Prisoner 111.471View OnlineMusings of the MundanePrisoner 111.471Day #4382 My time spent in this despicable prison is approaching its eighth year, and while I praise the Maker for every day I am alive I am no longer holding out hope that I will be rescued. I have resolved myself to being a prisoner here among several hundred others. The prison is nice, I suppose. The entire place is constantly being cleaned, and the Warden is very efficient in her handling of the day to day tasks. The Warden. A sick, twisted individual with no room in her heart. Constantly she walks through the prison, never speaking to us. Oh, she’ll go on and on with her little assistant, but she holds no love for us. I see it in her cold, dark violet eyes. I see her take away the other prisoners sometimes. I have no idea where she takes them, but most do not come back for quite some time. And when they do, they’re always a little more run-down than when they left. Most bear deep scars, harrowing reminders of our Warden’s cruelty. There are some who come back a little…different. They eye their prison cell as one might a place of worship. Those ones are the most disturbing. What sick and twisted punishment did she inflict on them to make them glad of being able to return to this prison? This tightly packed torture chamber. Sometimes we get moved, just to spice things up. It’s always interesting to watch he Warden those days. She’s constantly yelling at her assistant, and she makes him place us in different cells depending on her whim. I’ve even heard her threaten him, though I was too far away to make out what she threatened him with. Almost feel sorry for the little guy. And then I remember with sickening horror how he disposes of the prisoners the Warden no longer finds useful. His cruel, cruel laugh as he burns them alive while he watches, a smile on his face as they are reduced to a steaming pile of ash. He then sweeps them up like their just dirt on the floor, and I can only watch in stunned silence. I’d like to say that it phases me; that this macabre freak show still churns something deep inside me to cry out in protest, or get sick with disgust. But it doesn’t. I can’t feel it. They were just my cellmates. Fellow prisoners waiting to die, forgotten by all of society. Do they have families, I wonder? Anyone who would miss them? I don’t think I do, but to be honest, I wouldn’t want them to see me like this. It’s times like these that make me glad I’m in here. Here, I have my thoughts. They can’t be taken from me; they can’t be influenced by anyone other than myself. Here, in my cell, I make all the rules, and do whatever I want. A terrible thing, imagination. I can envision everything so clearly, and yet I know I will never experience it again. The gentle caress of warmth from the sun, or the icy chill of a winter’s night will never be mine to experience again. But I can dream about them. I can imagine what it must feel like. Day #4417 No longer do I need to imagine the bright sun on my face! No longer must I imagine what the cool night air feels like! I am free! …Mostly. Let me explain. This afternoon was like any other. My fellow prisoners and I had once again continued our daily routine of doing absolutely nothing, when we noticed a certain oddity. There was no assistant, or Warden. Not even the night guy was there, though some claimed he didn’t really exist. We were totally alone. Mind, that isn’t an unusual circumstance. Often times we were left unattended, and for good reason. Most of us had been here a while, and all that bad blood that had been between us mattered little in here. We learned to get along pretty quickly, or else it was the assistant’s happy little char-fest for you. Anyway, the day started out as quiet as any other. We were thoroughly relieved when there was no sound of the Warden or her demented little puppet, and we took to having a swell time. Being prisoners, there wasn’t much we could do. I think someone a few cells down from me tried saying some jokes to get us to laugh, but we weren’t in the mood. We were happy knowing none of us were getting barbecued for the time being, and we sat in loving silence. We became a little concerned when around evening time, we still had not seen hide nor hair of our captors. Rumors spread that someone was coming to rescue us, and that the Warden had been killed. As crazy as it sounds, a part of me wished that such was the case. That our rescuer was waiting just outside these walls, eagerly finding some way to free us. All I have to say is, be careful what you wish for. The world exploded in a giant fireball. Nothing stood of our prison as I watched the circular walls disintegrate. Fellow prisoners burned alive faster than I thought possible. Others were thrown into the twilight, their bodies still on fire. I watched as one landed with a sickening thud below me. Most of my area of the prison had been spared the explosion. Our cells had mostly been vaporized, though some of the structure of the cell block remained. I and several of my cell mates had survived the initial blast. The prison was now open to the evening air. The cool breeze blew across me for the first time in eight years, and I just sat there. The world I had known was burning around me. Most of the acquaintances I had were ashes or dismembered corpses, but I didn’t care. I wished for nothing more than to have that feeling of the wind rushing through me forever. Like I said, be careful what you wish for. With a sickening groan, I stared in horror as the ground gave way beneath me. I desperately tried to grab onto what remained of my cell, but that only sent more of the debris falling after me. I stared with dread at the pile of wood that had been my home for nearly a decade crumbled after me as I fell. Thankfully, I wasn’t able to see where I had fallen. I awoke with a sharp pain in my spine, and as I glanced around, I felt sick. I was on the bottom of the prison, lying on top of the cold, hard ground. I was pinned beneath the remains of my cell, unable to move. And to top it all off, I was completely alone. But the breeze feels nice. I’d weep, but I forgot how long ago. The Warden is back. She rescued as many of us as she could, hugging us close to her. She seems so much nicer now. Everywhere she walks, there’s a tear in her eyes. She looks on the destruction, and I can see her heart break. Maybe she cared this whole time. Maybe she loved us. Even her assistant was no longer the cruel monster he had been. Each step into the prison seemed to break him down almost as much as her. I saw him crying as well, and my heart split in two. I watched them come up, and stare down at me. I hoped my broken visage hurt them as much as it did me. The assistant leaned down close to me, and I saw the pity in his eyes. I was broken. I was in pain, and there was no way I would be able to take care of myself anymore. Not with a broken spine. I watched him take a deep breath. I closed my eyes, waiting anxiously for the fires to take me. They never came. Instead, I felt him brush off the debris holding me down, and gingerly he picked me up and help me close. “It’s gonna be alright little guy,” he said with a catch in his voice.And you know what? I believed him. No longer was he the cruel master I had feared. He was a kind, considerate individual who was just doing his job before. I can’t really blame him for following the Warden’s orders. Otherwise he would’ve been in here with the rest of us. The Warden. She didn't look at me with barely a glance this time. No longer did she take one cursory pass of her eyes and move on. She stared right at me, and I at her. This close, no way could she hide what she was feeling. Pain. Deep and utter heart-wrenching pain. She looked like a mother who had watched all her children get killed. And I couldn’t stay mad at her. Celestia knows I should have, but I couldn’t. They turned around and looked at what was left of the prison. And I guess she really had changed from who she was before. She didn’t talk to her assistant in hushed tones. She actually allowed me to be in the conversation. I smiled. “C’mon, Spike. Let’s see if we can get your little friend fixed up,” she said. “Twilight?” he asked hesitantly. “Do you wanna come back and look for more books tomorrow?” “I don’t know,” said the Warden. “I just don’t know.”
He's Mine!View OnlineMusings of the MundaneHe's Mine!They say if you love somepony, you should set them free. If they return to you, then they will always be yours. Or something like that. Bunch of horseapples if you ask me. Look, I’m not saying I don’t understand what the phrase is trying to say. You can’t force love, everypony has to make their own decisions, yada yada yada. And for the most part, I guess it works. For others, I mean. That kind of thinking won’t work for my stallion. He is just too naïve to be let out on his own. That’s not what I meant; of course he still goes out on his own. He goes into town without me sometimes, and he has his choir practice. He hangs out with his sister, who I love, and her friends, who I don’t care for in the slightest. They’re not bad ponies, probably. I just have no desire to get to know them better. Every time I and my big guy have to spend any time around them I always get hot under the collar. It wouldn’t be so bad if that white tramp and her friend the flying floozy would stop trying to jump my stallion right in front of me. Has nopony heard of common decency? It’s bad enough that he spends time with the pointy-headed priss when something big happens in town, but now she asks for him to visit more so they can practice their “singing”. I know what she’s really doing. What she wants to “practice”. I didn’t spend nearly thirty years in this world to be an idiot now. Not when Big Red needs me. Besides, his singing is only for me. He sings to me when we’re all alone together in the barn. Sometimes he even restarts his singing, just because he didn’t think it was perfect enough for me. He’s such a sweetheart! Of course, no matter how much I protest, he insists on getting it perfect for me. He won’t sing for anypony else but me. At least, by himself. Apparently Applejack has heard him perform in front of very large crowds. I was about to confront him on this when she informed me that he was in a group of ponies singing, and it wasn’t just him. So I can’t get too upset with him. He never sings to anypony else one-on-one except me. And that makes me the luckiest girl in the world. Of course, aside from his family, I’m the one who knows him best. I know all of his hopes and desires, as well as his truly traumatic secrets. I’ve comforted him through the death of his parents, the poor guy. I think it was then that I realized I truly loved him. He has such a big heart, you see. When word reached the farm that his Mom and Dad had passed away due to some tragic accident, I could tell right away that Big McIntosh was hurting. I could see the tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill across those lovely freckled cheeks. But did he cry? No sir. Not at first, anyway. He went up to his sisters and Grandma and hugged them to death. Perhaps that’s not the best expression to use? The point still stands, though. He cared not one lick for himself; his entire being was wrapped up in comforting his grieving family. Even though he had to be hurting (I was too; his pa had taken me in when Mac was little.), he stood as a rock for the family to lean on. Watching this, I was at a complete loss for words. What do you say when your closest friend loses half his family? I’m sorry only goes so far. I couldn’t say I could relate to what he was going through, seeing as how I never knew my parents. I came to live with the apples shortly after I was born. Sorry, I’m getting a little sidetracked. Where was I? Oh yes. So it was right around then I started looking at Big Mac as more than just a friend. I saw first hoof how his hard work provided for the farm and his family. He worked long hours toiling under the hot sun so his little sister could go to school and make something of himself. Poor Mac. He had to drop out early to work the farm after the accident. Granny said she could hire some helpers to manage the harvest while he finished his studies, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He knew without it being said that they couldn’t afford extra help and still keep all the land his family had worked hard for. So he sacrificed his education to be stuck in the life of a farmer. I dropped out of school at around the same time as well. Didn’t feel right not being next to him. We spent the next couple years working and watching his family grow together. We were pretty much inseparable; I worked next to him in the orchard during the day, and some evenings (if he wasn’t too tired) he’d take me into town for a milkshake. That was a pretty good time in my life. Shortly after that, though, his sister started bringing around her friends more often. His sister Applejack, I mean. Not Apple Bloom. Her friends I don’t mind. They’re adorable, and for the most part they leave me and Big Mac alone. No, it’s his other sister’s friends I don’t particularly care for. Specifically, the unicorn hussy with a penchant for over-dramatizing everything and that annoyingly quiet yellow pegasus. Aside from those two, her other friends are nice. The purple one especially. She’s been helping my stallion get the education he had to sacrifice early on in his life, and he’s been most appreciative. He’s definitely improving on his reading, and when it’s just us he even has enough confidence now to read aloud. Makes me swell with pride. Applejack’s are-they-an-item-or-aren’t-they possible girlfriend is likeable enough, though she is far too amped up on her own brand for me and Mac’s taste. She pretty much leaves us alone, so I can’t complain too much. The bouncy one is apparently a cousin of Mac’s, though he did confess to me he wasn’t 100% certain on it. Of course, Mac would never say anything about it; that’s not his style. No, Mac has the largest heart out of anyone I’ve come across. Sometimes, when he holds me close, I can feel it pounding beneath his chest. It’s like a giant drum is beating just for me, and I can’t help but feel like everything is right with the world. And with such a large heart, there’s no way I could let him go. The poor galumph would be lost in the big bad world, so trusting is he. I’m nice, and his family looks out for him, but I’m afraid McIntosh would just be devastated by some of the vixens out there. T They would rip him to pieces and throw him in the street once they used him for their own sick pleasure. Poor Mac has no idea of the dangers I save him from. How I sacrifice my time to stay with him and make sure he doesn’t get hurt. I saw what he went through when he lost his parents, and I’ll be a buffalo’s brother before I see anything hurt him again. But I know I can’t be with him all the time. He needs to have time to himself, to take a break from work and me. Truth be told, sometimes I need a break from him as well. Which is why I’m home alone tonight. Even though his normal choir practice isn’t for two more days, and that harlot came over herself to ask if he would help her practice. Still, I trust Big Mac. He would never leave me. I won’t let him. “Thank you so much for coming, Darling. I know how busy things can get on the farm,” said Rarity, opening the door of her shop. “Eeyup,” came the reply. “I must say, you look like an entirely different pony without that harness around your neck. Applejack said you never take it off unless it’s something important.” “Eeyup.” “I was surprised you asked to see me tonight. Our usual rehearsals aren’t until Thursday. There’s nothing wrong is there?” “Eenope.” “Well, then. How may I be of assistance?” asked Rarity. Big Mac cleared his throat and ran a hoof hesitantly through his short mane. “Well, Miss Rarity, seeing as how we’re both ponies, and ponies sometimes need to eat, I was wondering if sometime we could eat with each other at the same place. If’n you don’t mind, that is.” Rarity stared at the darkening face of the stallion in front of her. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. McIntosh?” “Errr…yup?” “I see…and when was this date supposed to take place? Was it tonight?” “Eeyup.” “Nothing quite like spur of the moment. Might I have a few minutes to get ready? If I am to be seen with the most handsome stallion in all of Ponyville, I simply must look my best.” “Eey…” Wait a minute, thought Big Mac. “Does that mean…?” he asked hopefully. “Yes, Big Mac. I would be happy to go on a date with you. Meet me at the Ponyville Café in a half hour.” “Eeyup,” he replied, a grin breaking out on his face. He practically galloped all the way to the restaurant feeling lighter than air. He felt like nothing could keep him down, a smile plastered on his face as he passed ponies in the street. Some gave him curious glances as he passed; others smiled at his infectious grinning. Either way, he didn’t care. Tonight was going to be a special night. Maybe he should go out without his harness more often.
Guardian of the NightView OnlineMusings of the MundaneGuardian of the NightI watch her sleep, as I have done with countless ponies before her. I stand vigil every night; the darkness bothers me not. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she rests; her golden coat rises and falls with each breath. Her dreams are pleasant, and she is smiling. Oh woe is me! To be so close to my true love, and yet to never know her embrace! All I want is to touch her, to feel her. To lay on her soft fur as she caresses me gently. To watch that cascading pink mane flow gently around me like a waterfall. How I would bask in that luscious mane! That primrose perfection! Oh, Fluttershy! Never has there been a more perfect word to describe such a beauty! Pink, in every sense of the word! What I wouldn’t give to spend just one of these cold, dark, nights wrapped lovingly in your embrace! To feel the fires of passion and love instead of the bitter chill of loneliness. Alas! Such is not my fate! Forever shall I guard the night; never sleeping, ever watchful. Alone I must protect you, for there is no other to share this burden with. A time long past, my sister performed this duty. Every night, she watched you sleep. Yet she did not love you the way I do, Fluttershy. She did not see the real you. Nor did I, at first. But your gentle, soothing touch banished the darkness within me, and I once more felt life return! Once more, a light shone within me! No longer was I cold and unfeeling. No longer was I banished from existence, never to be seen again. Oh Fluttershy! I desire so much more than this! So much more than being a silent guardian to you; protecting you from your greatest fears. So much more than only comforting you in the dark of night when all your worries come crashing down around your head. Tis of no use, I’m afraid. Destiny has fated me to standing here beside you instead of resting in your gentle caress. Tell me, dear Fluttershy; do you think on me when we’re apart? I would burst were it the truth, but I know deep down such is not the case. Often times I have seen you with your friends. I’ve seen you share in the joy of their laughter; each peal ringing out through the cottage, banishing your fears better than I. I’ve watched, helpless, as fate reared its ugly head and dealt you blow after blow. Each struggle weighed heavily on you, and I tried my best to ease your suffering. Poor, poor Fluttershy! How you’ve suffered! No pony could dream of taking on the enormous burden you have. Yet you did not complain! You struggled on, my little pony, and you held your head high through all of it. I was so proud of you on hearing that you faced down a dragon! I wept with you when you said good bye to the breezies. After every trial and tribulation you grew, Fluttershy. You grew, and my love for you grew as well. I know not what the future holds, my love, nor do I wish to. Our time together is very short. I shall remain, alone and forgotten, long after you have ceased your last breath. The world will move on. Fillies and colts will wither and die; new ponies will be born to take their place. Foals will enter this world kicking and screaming, and the aged will leave with scarcely a whimper. Dear Fluttershy! I do not want to live in a world without you! Without your gentle kindness, your generous heart. How do I go on knowing that I will never be able to gaze onto the face of an angel when you have passed? Had I the power I would make you immortal! A golden light to shine down on this world! A beacon of hope for all souls, that they may know kindness, and love. Shine, my garden of love! Spread your joy and happiness forever! I look down on my love, and I am once again rendered speechless. Her soft, voluminous mane covers her face, and I desperately yearn to brush it away. No hair, or blemish, or mask should ever hide that sweet, beautiful smile from the world; nor her caring blue eyes. Her eyes! Her eyes are open and she’s staring right at me! How could I have not noticed? I’m so stupid! I keep myself as still as possible. She’s blinking a few times, and it looks like her eyes are trying to get adjusted to the small amount of light leaking in through the window. I’m frantically scanning through my brain, trying desperately to come up with something to keep her from spotting me. From discovering that her guardian angel watched her sleep. Oh Sweet Celestia, what a fool I was! A silent padding coming into the room saves me from discovery. Fluttershy turns her head at the sound, and she sits up quickly. I can see the concern in her eyes, and I want nothing more than to reach out and comfort her; to let her know it’s going to be alright. That I’m here for her, no matter what. But I don’t. It’s not what my destiny holds. I can’t reach out and comfort her no more than I could raise the sun. As the small, white bunny bounds onto the bed, I watch her cringe, pulling the blankets up to her face. After a moment’s pause, she relaxes as she can now make out the small shape of her pet rabbit sitting on the bed. His body trembled in the moonlight, and he tentatively approached the now calm mare. “Oh Angel Bunny! Did you have a nightmare again?” Oh that voice! The finest choirs throughout all Equestria were as nails on a chalkboard to her sweet voice! Silently, the rabbit nodded, and made his way to the top of the comforter. He inched ever closer to that beautiful pegasus, and stopped. In the darkness he turned towards me, and with an accusatory finger drew her attention to my silent form. I watched her fumble around in the darkness, reaching out towards my position. I dare not move for fear of causing panic, and I shook when her hoof finally touched me. Such gentleness! Even for some pony who must be afraid as she was, her soft, gentle caress was everything I hoped it could be! I cared not for being discovered; I was finally in the loving embrace of my mare! I felt heat rise in me; a fiery passion I had experienced before, but never quite this intense. My love burst forth in a blaze of glory, shattering the darkness and bathing my golden goddess in a glow. “Don’t worry, Angel. Mr. Lamp will keep us safe tonight.” So I shall, my love. So I shall. Author's Note So this was going to be a short one shot to get my mind off of things, but I had a little too much fun with this. So an idea hit me for part two, and I couldn't resist. Enjoy!
