I look after the farm with little help, and I'm sure you can imagine me doing that. However, I'm not writing to tell you about the farm. I writing to let you know where I am, or at least where I will be. They have found me, and their bloody teeth are gnawing at the door. Maybe I will make it out alive, but I'm sure you'll know if I don't.

A virus destroys Equestrian civilization, and all that remains are the accounts of lucky survivors. Of course, they weren't lucky, nor did they survive very long.

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A narrative pieced together entirely by individual letters of various ponies throughout the history of the plague. The letters are not in chronological order.
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Something I decided to write instead of working on my other fics. No art because there isn't anything that looks like what I want to write.