Of Broken Innocence and Shattered Realities

Hurt…

It hurts so much…

What is this? What is going on? Why can’t I see anything at all? I’m scared.

Light. Hurt. Candles. The candles, where are they? I had them before I slept. Ah! I can’t see. I can’t touch anything.

I don’t want to be here. It hurts. Mommy! I want to see Mommy. I want to be home with you and Mrs Sweetie. Please.

Just. Please. Anypony?

…

This is wrong. The hurt. So wrong. Please, anypony help!

…

Help me, please? It hurts. This is bad. Hurt is bad. You have to help me. Please... You have too...

…

Eeek! What. What is… this?

…

No! Please, don’t stop. Don’t leave me alone. I. I won’t run away, promise. I promise I won’t leave. So… So please, could you make the hurt go away? Pr-pretty please?

...

Th-thank you. Thank you… Yes, thank you.

The hurt is going away. Thank. Thank you, very, very much.

…

‘Fay-ez’? It’s called ‘Fay-ez’, right? ‘Hey-and-zo’? It sounds strange--uh. Sorry! I. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. No. It’s not strange at all, I was just curious. I… Sorry. I did not want to be mean. I just… I never had that feeling before. At least, I think.

‘Sraze’?... Euh! Thank you? Is that, what your hoof is called? Or maybe you name?

…

My name is Dinky, Dinky Doo. I don’t know why I was feeling hurt, but I’m all better now. All thanks to you, Mrs? Mister? Hi-hi.

…

Euh! I don’t think I wanna play gili-gili now. It’s still dark, and I want to see Mommy. Sorry.

Haha *giggles*. Oh!  But I am also glad that you came to help me. Hihi. I feel a little not so lonely when somepony else is around. Hoho.

...

Haha. Stop that. What are you doing with your hoof? It tickles my belly a lot.

‘Han-ez’?!... Your hoof feels like a spider, but it sounds like the flowers from our neighbour's garden.

Stran- It’s curious. I mean, I am curious. Euh! It’s a nice name. If only I could see it…

Why did you stop tickling me? Do you have to go someplace?

…

Oh! Well, maybe I can follow you? I’m sure we will find Mommy if we go toge-- Wait! The hurt, it’s back. Why? I. I can’t move now. It hurts. Why?

It started when you-- Your hoof! Please, your spider hoof. I. I need it.

Where, where are you? Please come back, I can’t see, it’s too dark. ‘Ha-Han-ez’? ‘Han-ez’! It hurts! I. I need you!

Han-ez?! My head. The hurt… please… please… come back… come… back… ῆ̐ͫ̂̅ͭ͌͊̉̀҉̣͉ἶͫ̄͊͒̈ͮ҉͙͍̬ც̬͕̹͓̱̬͇̥͛̌ͭ̓̇̅̊̈́͠პ̡̦͙͓ͬͬͪ͑̑͜ჩ̐ͩͧ̿̑̊̑͏̦ !!!

~~~ [[ . . . ]] ~~~

Penumbra. A shade between light and darkness, painted the scene of her troubled awakening.

It was a scene she felt most familiar with. A calm scene, a secure scene, filled with cherished memories and love unbound.

It was… home.

Nevertheless, it was odd that she felt she could see her own room with such details, while still lacking sufficient light.

On a normal basis, she would have difficulty identifying the multiple toys lying on the floor, or the furnitures that decorated her personal space.

…

A horrible dream, as she would have thought. It had denied her the peaceful body restoration that rest would occasionally instil upon any living being.

And as on a habit, she was already sitting on her bed ; her gaze fixated on the rectangular surface on her wall that played as her only window.

Not blinking as if in trance, it took her more than a minute to realise that she was sweating, and heavily panting for air.

Eventually, when her breathing became less erratic, she allowed herself to close her eyes to recall the events that led her to waking up.

...

It was difficult. Not because she didn’t want to forget about her bad dream, but because she couldn’t.

And the more she tried, the less her mind would allow her access to her memories.

The only thing she was able to salvage was that, for some reason, she was in a very dark place. It was so dark that she couldn’t even see beyond her own muzzle.

That, and the fact she screamed at somepony for help.

And that was about it.

She could not recall any names, or make out any shapes that might seem odd, as if her memories were slowly being erased.

As she realised the futility of pursuing in her quest, she lowered her head in defeat.

And so, with a final sigh, she abandoned all control over her body, allowing her to make contact with the softness of her damp bed.

“Mommy”, murmured the little foal, before allowing herself a few hours of dreamless sleep.

Unaware of the tears that were shed from the moment she awoke.

…

~~~ [[ . . . ]] ~~~

The first thing that she saw were the colors. The bright and lively colors of orange, red and yellow, dancing around her vision in fluid motion.

It was a beautiful thing to see, yet, it annoyed her because those colors were accompanied by the warmth of a particularly greater light source on her fur.

She understood what that meant, and it annoyed her even further.

The Sun was rising, illuminating the world with its warm rays. Those rays probably came through her window, and somehow landed on her face. Thus making her eyes see bright colors while still being under her eye sockets.

Still, despite being bothered by the Sun’s rays, she also found it quite difficult to move her face away from the sole window of her room. In fact, she couldn’t, nor did she want to move at all.

“Mea-nie...”, mumbled the little foal, directing her displeasure towards the Sun. And by extension, the one responsible for ‘creating’, and ‘rising’ it in the first place.

She did not despise the only source of Light that this Land had to offer. Nor did she prefer using her candles over the brighter rays during the day. It was just that, she didn’t feel the need to be disturbed after her previous dream. Her horrible dream.

Then suddenly, she heard a voice from below.

It was faint, almost inaudible. Nevertheless, those were reasons enough to spike her curiosity even further.

From the moment she awoke for the second time, she made sure to limit her movements as best as possible. She did not want to open her eyes, for she knew that if she did, a powerful light would hurt her vision.

And for Dinky, feeling hurt was considered a bad thing. It was wrong.

So, she had to rely on the obvious sense that allowed her to detect the sound in the first place.

She strained her ears in the direction of her bedroom door, hoping for the sounds to resume their course.

And eventually, they did.

The first that came was the sound of creaking wood, as if someone, somepony was walking a flight of stairs. They were slow, and a little unnerving. But they were also followed by another sound. This one being more enjoyable than the previous one : the sound of melodic humming.

“Not now...”, muttered the filly under her breath, understanding that she would soon be forced to leave her humid bed.

“Mommy, no... ”, she continued, while the sounds of creaking stairs and melodic vocal tune grew stronger by the seconds.

Until eventually, everything ceased as the noise finally reached the door’s entrance.

…

The filly heard the movement of a door handle being turned, and yet, the door itself did not make a noise.

No creaking sounds were heard--- and as realisation struck her, she had to force her ears to freeze and stay as immobile as possible.

That action only took her a fraction of a second to make, and that was because she had remembered.

Remembered something...

~~~ [[ . . . ]] ~~~

Over the past few days, she had told her mother about the weird noise her bedroom door would make.

Eventually, her mother then taught her about the words ‘squeaking’ and ‘creaking’, thus earning the little filly to use those words for over three hours of games and poorly attempted jokes.

The games consisted of mostly her, trotting very slowly inside her house, opening and closing the doors very slowly to generate the annoying sounds wherever she went.

Her mother, as the embodiment of motherly love and understanding (to her eyes), took it upon herself to tag along and mimic the joyful foal. The severity of their infectious laughter increased over the time.

Unfortunately it didn’t stop them from earning a few stares from the milk delivery pony, and a few gossiping neighbours who heard, and went to inspect the strange event.

After realising what was going on, they silently agreed to leave the duo with strained smiles on their faces.

But the filly, upon noticing them and thinking that their smiles seemed to ‘hurt’, asked away her mother about it. She was later on reassured that it was always how they acted around the adult mare. And that it would be wrong to question them further on the subject, which the filly immediately complied, but still held on to the curiosity.

They later on made up for the interruption by attempting a few ‘not-so-scary’ stories, and ‘bad-but-strangely-hilarious' jokes despite the fact that the Sun was still high in the sky.

…

~~~ [[ . . . ]] ~~~

It always felt strange for her, for Dinky to have those long remembrance in less than a second.

She would relive events that took place weeks, if not months ago, and still know what words were spoken by whom, and when.

Indeed, she might have been bothered by this at first, but the fact still remained that having a highly excessive memory such as hers, and at a very young age was mostly unheard of ; without the use of powerful magic being at work.

Of course, no spells were cast upon her from the day she was conceived. Her use of magic amounted to never having used her horn at all. And any potential magical artefact would have easily been felt a kilometer away, if given the task at hoof.

No. Dinky was simply gifted with the ability to remember a little more than the average sentient lifeforms,... and almost never forget... Almost.

…

She remembered that on that day, after her afternoon rest, her mother had told her that she had left the house for a few hours to buy some food for the night and a few ‘unimportant items’.

But the empty aerosol lubricating oil in the kitchen trash can, followed by a small booklet on ‘how to stop squeaky door hinges’ were too much information for her little brain to understand what those ‘unimportant items’ purposes were…

...

Now, back Dinky's bedroom chamber, she would feel a pair of eyes watching her from across her room. Silently sneaking their way closer towards her location.

The room’s temperature, while now becoming warmer than before, would be followed by a soft and gentle breeze (no doubt from the intruder’s care to not make contact with the floor, and appreciate the sight of the ‘slumbering' foal).

At last, four sets of hooves gently touched the ground next to the filly’s bed.

Now, Dinky didn’t feel the Sun’s rays anymore, for she believed her mother was shielding her from the window.

But she didn’t want to peek and abandon her disguise, because nothing seemed to happen after several seconds, as if she was still being stared at.

The thought alone made her feel uncomfortable. Not much for her to squirm from side to side, but unfortunately enough for her to realise that she may have committed something far worse than to pretend to be asleep. Something that her fur between her hind legs made contact with.

And as realisation struck her, she forced her eyes open, from fear and shame over what had resulted from her slumber.

Dinky Doo, had wet her bed…

…

A drop.

A lone drop.

When the little filly had opened her eyes to the waking world, a singular drop of liquid had found its way onto her muzzle.

It momentarily made her blink, slightly shifting her shame to that of confusion, and ignoring the towering form in front of her.

It felt so out of place that she couldn’t help but question “what is th--”, before remembering that her mother was still there.

“Good morning Muffin, today’s the big day.” Said Ditzy Doo, wiping away something from her eyes. “Why, you look as if you hadn’t slept at all”, she continued with concern. “Did something happen? Do you... wanna talk to Mommy about it?”

“Wha-da. What?”, repeated the little filly who could almost believe that her mother was crying, plunging her once more in the emotion that was known as confusion.

“Dinky Sweetie… Dinky, are you feeling OK?”, ushered the mother who was now placing one of her hooves over her foal’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever”, she trailed.

…

As non-responsive as the filly remained, her mother came to the conclusion that forcing her foal to talk would probably render the situation in a negative way. So, she had but little to no other option than to physically console the offspring.

The action alone was quickly made, but with such care and gentleness that whomever hadn’t known her, would consider her touch no less than as that of a lover.

…

Having no concrete recollections of her dream, added with the constant surprise in events that occurred after her fading slumber, Dinky Doo, couldn’t help but return her mind to her shameless act.

She could still remember the day she vowed to act as a grown-up in bed, and do all that would be necessary to never wet herself during her sleep.

And so far, she kept her words true by not drinking a full glass of water or milk before bedtime. She even took on the habit to go to the bathroom, even if she truthfully didn’t feel the urge to.

The praises that were received from her mother, only aided her to cement the occasional routine, into a daily habit similar to that of a workaholic.

Everything had worked. And her bed only needed to be changed during laundry day.

Until today.

What would her mother think of her? Would she be disappointed in her for failing to keep her own promise? Would she still trust her in the future? And even more, would she still be loved?

Those were the ideas that flowed in the young’s innocent mind, paralysed in her mother’s embrace; unable to move as wild ideas became more incoherent with the passing seconds.

…

“Oh! Dinky... Mommy's here with you no matter what.” certified the adult mare, slightly tightening her hold as if the world was about to end for both of them.

She then started mumbling something under her breath. Too quiet for the little one to have noticed, but due to her close proximity caused by the embrace, Dinky would have sworn that the words that came out of her mother were anything but from her.

“… should have killed him instead of ...”

At those little words, Dinky’s eyes went wide, whereas her pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks.

She has heard of something similar in the past. When a drunken stallion was being detained by a group of royal guards, after being aggressive towards another mare and her foal.

She also couldn’t think that it came from the mouth of somepony as loving as her mother, which resulted in her subconsciousness burrowing the memories in order to protect her innocent mind.

But now…?

Now she felt ashamed, unworthy of trust, as well as feeling another kind of emotion…

It surrounded her mind whenever she woke up during the darkness of the night, or when she first thought that eating vegetables over candy and fruits was disgusting.

That feeling was not doubled, tripled, but perhaps went beyond what she had ever experienced.

“Sorry. Meanie dream.”

Her words were soft as the specks of dust who were visibly floating thanks to the morning’s light. Her mother whom had not expected her daughter to speak so soon, gently took the opportunity to probe her with care.

“I won’t force you to speak. And I won’t let anypony hurt you anymore, I promise”, said Ditzy who stopped the maternal hug in order to look at her foal in the eyes (and as best as she could).

“I. meanie.” Dinky’s eyes were now being filled to the brim, but she had to say it. Hearing those words from her mother did more than just shock her. It questioned everything that her mind could remember, as well as the information that her unconsciousness took the care to hide, and the things that she knew but failed to realise the meaning of.

It questioned what she truly knew about her home. Her life. Her world.

“I’m sorry Mommy.” she said, now letting the maddening flow of her tears reach for the old wooden floor.

“I’m sorry. I had a meanie dream.”