Two Hundred Days

Day 86

Bodies, upon bodies, upon bodies. All emotion siphoned from their eyes, yet they still live. I am one of them now, in this pit of death, discarded as quickly as a foal discards old toys. That was the command of the Changeling queen, my special guest. Their torture was a means to elicit emotion, emotion for their Queen to feast on. Such an event should have been more frightening than what my words can convey, but I have no will do detail the encounter.

I must resort to writing by mouth. Magic is too taxing a task to perform in the suffering that I now face. I till write to you journal because I am well and truly scared. Somehow, if my last thoughts were written down with blood and paper I would find some consolidation. The truth is, I do not fear death. I fear not being remembered.

And down here, atop a pile of lifeless bodies, is the worst place to die. All who see me now are those who cling onto what's left. Their time will come soon. All who move around me are the crows, picking their pony for the day. Not even in the minds of crows will my existence hold meaning. I will become another meal.

Wait, crows in a cavern. This place should be deep underground, no animal could possibly...

Day 86 part 2

The Changelings are as arrogant as they are wasteful. They think of us as trash, and throw us in here as a testament to their opinions. Their "garbage cavern" has not been cleared out in a while, if it ever has. I see now where the crows come from, though their nests block nearly all of the light from the narrow entrance.

I could leave now. The entrance was only a few meters from the highest point of the body pile. With work, I can build my way up with my pony comrades; their last service to their kind. However, work is the problem. I sit here against the cavern wall in my pain because I cannot move. Infection has undoubtedly spread through my hind legs now.

The loss of my hooves were not enough for the Changeling Queen. She demanded a "whole" specimen, an issue that was quickly remedied by driving steel hooves into my open wounds, holding them tight with nails and stitches. It really needs no explanation as to why this has left me incapacitated, and why each movement is impossible to take without a soul tearing, gut wrenching, tear jerking pain from my legs.

I have been conscious ever since I was dropped down here, and every moment since has kept me awake with my excruciating pain and injuries. Evening is here and night will soon follow. My exhaustion will surely overtake the sensation of the infection, and hopefully a quite night of rest will return some strength to me.

Day 87

I rise before the sun, my steel hooves bury their cold sting into my flesh at each movement. But my mind is sharp thanks to the pain. By noon I manage to pull together a formidable pile of corpses - with magic of course - stable enough for me to climb up. I take no note of the bodies, but I cannot help but think that somewhere in here Crush, Sweet Tooth, and Mint Leaf are dead or dying, rotting under the rot of ponies. Such is my punishment for leading this endeavor. I am the greatest royal fool, and this sin is my sun to raise.

Are you ready Journal? You shall be the first of us to taste the sun and kiss the fresh air. I cannot climb and carry you with me so that we may experience it together. Up you go now! I will see you on the other side.

Day 87 part 2

If I could write my last words for this world, it would go as such: "Nearly any pony can withstand adversity. To test the true character, one must be given power."

Nearly any pony can withstand adversity. To test the true character, one must be given power.

My friends and I, we stood through Ponyville together. We fought hunger together. We innovated together, lived together, endured adversity together. But when we had a choice, the power to choose our own destiny, I botched it up. To die out on the surface is a blessing, for one who does not deserve the slightest comfort.

Signing off forever, Keen Eyes