Those Thirty Days

  "As unlikely as it might seem, I can only believe that there some ponies, who when they hear this might believe the dreadful truth of my stay in, what I called, the box, was not as horrid as I believe, that it was nothing. I'm sorry to report, that those ponies are wrong." An indistinguishable sound from behind the recording area. "I'm not trying to say that what I went through was unbearable, or that others have suffered nothing in comparison to me, far from it." Another sound from behind the recording area. "These accounts are from me, not just from a tape player or a piece of paper."

  "Of course, you could always talk about the better times." A mare's voice cut in. "Not all of it was bad... well, sure the majority was, but wasn't the end of it good enough to make up for the evil of the rest?"

  "Of course, but it still is essential to make it known." The stallion replied. "Even though at the end of it I got off better than many, the fact remains that I suffered, and that there are some out there who might contest this fact."

  "If they told you you were bald, would it be true?" The mare asked in a caring tone. "I have a feeling that the answer is no. So why does it matter what they say about you suffering?" A sigh could be heard.

  "Because without that, they'd think..." The mare silenced the stallion.

  "It's alright, just don't get to worked up as you talk, alright?" The mare requested. "There is life happening beyond the recording studio." By the sound of the hooves walking away, an inaudible response had been given. A space of silence entered, broken only when the stallion sighed.

  "Let's begin, shall we? There are many details I'd like to go over, and some might seem as trivial, but each of them help paint a better picture of what happened. This is my story, and I, in distinction to recording and paper, will tell it how I will, but since the majority of what I experienced in the chamber was already divulged, let me tell you about before that room. Before those thirty days."