Lost Light

by saiavinn

Rating: mature
Tags: Sad, Tragedy, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 1876

Delve into the world of the Mane 6 as they live the nightmares that we invent for them, but beware- insanity is not as simple as one makes it out to be. After all, the story of anypony that's lost their mind is, in fact, a tragedy.

I read through stories and occasionally find myself thinking, "Well that would certainly be interesting if it weren't so unbelievable." But then, at what point is it out of character for one of the mane 6 to go insane? Insane doesn't mean psychopathic- it means that they don't see the world in a way deamed rational. "Rational" in Celestia's candy-coated world of the magic of friendship being "friends will help solve all of your problems, and there's no such thing as death."

So, if we break even one of those truths, we've already turned to Equestrian insanity... but what fun is that? Instead we bronys find ourselves twisting our favorite characters into dark or murderous shades of their former selves. And thus- "How much can I twist a pony and still claim that their true to theirself?"

Let me think...

Published 2014-12-04 06:20:10 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-04 06:20:10 UTC

Silenced Laughter

A pink mare sate at a circular table with her friends in the basement of Sugarcube Corner. Her favorite decorations were up and she wore her best party outfit, although she knew Rarity thought the colors clashed. She was having a blast,because her friends were her of course. Her friends were always here for her parties.

“Well? You enjoying the party of all parties, Twilight?”

“Of course! Your parties don’t have a match, Pinkie!”

“That’s because everypony comes! You girls are what make the party!”

“Aww, well I ‘preciate that, sugarcube.”

“Yeah! I mean, we’re just he invites! You’re the one that does all the work an’ all.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dashie! Somepony has to set everything up, so it may as well be Ponyville’s super party pony!”

“Oh, um, Pinkie? I don’t mean to be a bother, but I just thought you might want to know that, well, the punch is all gone.”

*Gasp* “Out of punch!? No way! I’ll have to get some more real quick! You all stay put, I’ll be right back!”

“Take your time, darling. There’s no rush.”

The pink mare bolted up the stairs to the shop, only to find that she didn’t have enough mix for a full bowl of punch.

“I’m going out for some more punch mix, Mrs. Cake!”

“Alright then, Pinkie, don’t be long.”

The pink mare bounced her way around toward the market, going about her usual greetings.

“Good morning, Carrot Top!”

“Good morning, Pinkie.”

“Good morning, Derpy!”

“Hey Pinkie!”

“Good morning, Roseluck!”

“Good morning, Pinkie Pie.”

“Goo-” *Gasp*

The pink mare had spotted an unfamiliar face glancing warily about, and since she knew everypony in Ponyville, that could only mean one thing.

The pink mare bounced double time toward the newcomer. She was a pale cream color with a short baby-blue mane, and she kept looking around like she was worried about something. The pink mare was already babbling at a thousand miles a minute before she was even close to the newcomer.

“Hi there, my name’s Pinkie Pie, and you must be new in town since-”

She never reached her. The mare took one look at her and screamed, running away in terror. The pink mare was confused. She looked around, but saw nothing that would give anypony a fright. She quickly tested her breath and decided she could use a mint, but that couldn’t be it since she hadn’t been close enough for the mare to smell it. Then she noticed that she was still wearing her party outfit. Even she had to admit that these colors really didn’t match, but she hadn’t had any real reason to take it off lately. She hadn’t seen anypony react that extremely to bad fashion, but it was all she could come up with.

“Oh well. I was going to throw her a “welcome to Ponyville” party, but I guess that’s out, now. Later, Roseluck!”

“Goodbye, Pinkie Pie. Take care.”

The pink mare got to the market to find that they still hadn’t restocked on punch mix. She decided that she’d just have to make some herself. It couldn’t be that hard; she’d improvised ingredients before.

The pink mare bounced down the stairs, somehow managing not to spill a drop of the red punch she had in a bowl balanced on her head, which was good since she’d noticed her stock was getting low. She returned to the party, finding her friends exactly where she left them.

“Sorry I was gone so long. I went upstairs to make more punch, but I realised I was out, so I went into town to get more, but I noticed a new pony in town but when I went to say hi she just screamed and ran which made me kinda sad because I wanted to throw her a “welcome to Ponyville” party, but I was just like “Oh well” and I went to the market to get that punch mix only to find that they were still out. I mean, what’s with that? They were out last week, too! I’m clean out of punch mix! So I came back and just kinda threw something together, but don’t worry- it’ll be just as good! I promise.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Pinkie. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for you.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Pinks. Anything you make has got to be good!”

And thus the party continued just as it had been going, the pink mare and her friends with music and various baked goods for the eating, until the she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror she’d set up. It looked like she had something to say again. It was short and to the point, unlike the long spiels she’d come up with for previous numbers.

“Well, we’re down to the finish. Only one number left and we both know what that one is!”

*Gasp* “It’s my turn now! Ooh, I’m getting nervousited already!”

The pink mare bounced to the other side of the room to her equipment, an assortment of tools and bladed instruments. This would be more difficult than the others, she knew, since she’d be running against the timer once she started. That was why she’d gotten a head start! All it needed were a few easy details. Most important first!

The scalpel was the weapon of choice for the most important of details- a trio of blue and yellow balloons on the pink mare’s flanks. Bending to the side a good deal more than any pony should, and with a combination of mouth and hoofwork, the mare slid the blade under the flesh on either side and separated the identifiable marks from her body.

Pinkie Pie couldn’t scream.

After the marks were sewn onto the body, connected to the pre-placed pink hides that were already sewn on, the mare turned to her hacksaw. She still couldn’t understand why exactly it was called a hacksaw when you didn’t really hack with it, but rants could wait for another time. It was a large-toothed hacksaw, just right she figured, for getting through the meat and tailbone. Folded double on herself, she ran the saw back and forth across her dock until her adorable tail fell to the floor.

Pinkie Pie couldn’t cry.

The final touch was the most important, and time would be even shorter once the work was done. She already had her sharpest knife waiting, and wasted not even a moment grabbing it and making rapid sawing motions up her crest and to and past her poll. Her mane was now ready to be added, and she worked through the blood that ran into her eyes.

Pinkie Pie couldn’t beg for it to stop.

The butchered mare now could take just a moment to look at her handiwork: Pinkie Pie preserved forever, with the same adorable mane, the same adorable tail, and same adorable hooves. (It was a pain having to work without those for so long. The things she did for protection.) The mare couldn’t stand. Blood was everywhere. But she had done it; now she could be with her friends forever! ...Wait… if she was lying her on the floor, then who was it that was standing with her friends? She looked exactly like Pinkie Pie, but that couldn’t be right. She was P- The mare saw her reflection. It looked nothing like Pinkie Pie.

The butchered mare lay on the floor, sobbing despite everything being bleary, and herself weak. Her friends were with Pinkie Pie. They had only ever been with Pinkie Pie, not her. Now that they were all together, they didn’t even acknowledge her- wouldn’t even turn to look at her. She was dying, and she was alone. And she wasn’t even Pinkie.

Pinkie couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak, or even look around. She just stood stock still at that round table in the bloody basement of Sugarcube Corner, just like the rest of her friends. They all looked perfect- manes, eyes (substituted in her case), bodies, tails, cutie marks- every detail right. They couldn’t talk, or enjoy each other’s company. They couldn’t even really think. They couldn’t do anything.

They couldn’t laugh.

Late that evening, an inspection team from Canterlot came into Ponyville after receiving word from a mare that the town she’d walked into was full of dolls and a crazy pony. They arrived not sure what to expect, as the description was vague and the mare not in the most stable of mindsets.

They found the dolls. They were everywhere. Scattered all over the town were life-sized stuffed dolls stitched together from actual skins. Each was a resident in the town, they would find, all set up as if doing some menial task in their normal lives. The school was filled with a teacher’s doll and the desks with their foal dolls. There was not a single living pony in the entire town.

In Sugarcube Corner’s basement they found a gruesome spectacle. Intestines hung like streamers from the ceiling, the walls were decorated with painted skulls, and from chairs of bone floated helium filled organs of varying sizes. On the floor was the corpse of a mare, unrecognizable due to the small amounts of her pink coat being coated in blood, wearing a sick ensemble of assorted pony skins, pegasus wings, and unicorn horns. Her tail and mane had been cut away, but along with the flesh, along with her cutie mark. There would be a search conducted for the guilty party/accomplice, as it was agreed that there was no way for these wounds to be self-inflicted due to the body’s lack of hooves among other reasons, but this search would come back inconclusive. What would be discovered was that the body belonged to one Pinkamena Diane Pie. There would never be an explanation for how the majority of the body’s lost flesh was found on the nearby Pinkie doll.

Forensic evidence would prove that Pinkie Pie had been the murderer of every pony in the town over an extended period of time, always dragging sedated victims from the shop into the basement, strapping them to a rack, and torturing them to death through mutilation, electrocution, and evisceration, using large doses of adrenaline to keep their hearts going and minimal application of anesthetics to keep them conscious. The actions would be blamed on severe schizophrenia, and kept a complete secret to the world by orders of Princess Celestia. Better for her to be remembered for the good she chose to do rather than the atrocities she had no control over.

The dolls would all be sent to next of kin for burial, including those of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony. They were the best kept of the dolls- dressed up in party outfits save for the Pinkie doll. Never would the light stains under her eyes be noticed, nor the tears that were mixed with the blood on the table she and her friends had stood around.

Pinkie Pie couldn’t laugh.

Author's Note

A different take on Pinkie in "Cupcakes."

Keep in mind, only one pony actually says anything in this. That's why I didn't use, "said Twilight," or anything like that.