"The Mad Mare"

“ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE CRAZED MARE ON THE LOOSE”

Stated the newspaper, the article was crude and horrible, but nothing new for the ponies of Equestria: sadly, news like this one were getting more and more common, each day a young victim had its face on the front page of the newspaper.

“tonight, another brutal murder was consumed in Appleloosa: SpurredDust, a very young foal, was found in a pool of its own blood by his parents. His neck was twisted and several other injuries were on the foal’s body. Even if he was found from his parents in the morning, it happens to be a witness of the events happened in the night. “I was getting home from work, it was later than midnight, probably” he stated still shaken from his sight “but I was dragged to look to the colt's window by a sweet yet sad lullaby, and when my eyes met the window, I could see a young mare holding the colt and she was the one singing, to the body. I have no doubts: even if her muzzle wa hidden by the shadows, I know that it was *her*” indeed, SpurredDust is just another victim of the serial killer that the ponies of Equestria gave the name of “Mad Mare””

-you’re gonna buy it Miss?- said the newsagent. The tanned mare  was brought back to reality by his voice, so she nodded and paid the newspaper with a weak smile. The newsagent sighed and said: -it’s horrible, right? How could someone harm a foal? I mean, they just started their life, what did theyt do to deserve so-! –he put both his hooves over his mouth –I-I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to bring back any bad memories!- the newsagent tried to apologies, but the mare just smiled and said:

-oh, don’t worry about it, I-I’m over it now- the mare stated and then the newsagent took sight of her beautiful features: her pelt had the color of warm honey, and her soft mane was just a little darker. Two sad, light-blue eyes, completed her figure once full and beautiful; but now, it was ruined by a hard life, too hard and difficult for such a young age. The blue newsagent pony nodded and after a little, nervous laugh said:

-s-so… you’re dating again, HoneySample?- but the honey mare chuckled

-I’m sorry, not already- he nodded again, disappointed, but smiled and wished her a nice day when she said she had to go.

The mare happily breathed in the fresh air of Ponyville’s evening, enjoying the odd warmth of it. She trotted towards her house, with the sad newspaper in her bag. On her way to home, many ponies waved happily at her. The mare was indeed loved and supported by everyone in town: who wouldn’t love her, after all? she was such a lovely pony, kind and sweet. Only thing that slightly messed with her profile, along with the now weakened body,  were the huge, gruesome scars that marked both of her cutie marks: the huge, glossy pink hearts on her flanks were broken by the signs of  the self-inflicted scars. But no one really cared about this feature: everyone thought that it was due to her emotional breakdown after losing her own foal to a disease, some months ago. The honey mare fight the tears that were forming in her eyes back and trotted inside her house:

-I’m back, darling- she spoke aloud, but of course, no one answered. She didn’t even bother to turn the lights on, she just went upstairs to her room, and laid in bed, finishing to read the newspaper.

When she was done, she stood up and took a pair of scissors, glue and a box cutter. She  took the newspaper in her hooves and, using the scissors, she cut the front page away. Then, with the box cutter, she carefully traced the lines of the “Mad Mare” article and, once done, she brought the piece of paper in her closet, gluing it on a mirror that was on the closet door, along with several other articles with the same subject. She admired herself in the mirror, trough the paper pieces. Another weak smile and she took a dark pink cloak from the closet, closing the door and hiding the mirror. She stepped back in the room and her sight casually fell on a picture of herself, a happy and healthy self, hugged by who looked like a kind purple stallion, who was laughing. An angry expression creeped on her muzzle, distorting her lovely figure for a second, but it was quickly calmed by another picture, this time, it was a baby smiling foal, a little honey coated and purple maned colt. He was playing and happily waving at her mother, who was taking the picture. A tear rolled down her cheek seeing the last picture of all: the same little colt, in a hospital bed, trying his best to smile even after all those medicines flowing in his veins along with his ill blood.

He suffered so much. He waited for so much. He hoped so much. But it wasn't much enough. Her honey colored hoof brought the picture down: he died two weeks after taking the picture, and after days and days of intense, unending pain. HoneySample dried her cheek and slowly caressed the healthy foal of the second picture:

-Don’t worry, darling- she said –mommy never forgets you, and she knowns what she has to do- with the cloak embracing her body, she started to trot downstairs towards the front door, but she stopped to get in a messed room first: papers and sheets were everywhere in the room; curriculums, old (yet paid) bills, tests and books created so much chaos in the room that no one could have noticed the drawer with a heart-shaped locket. HoneySample went to the drawer, unlocking it and taking a dossier. She studied it: the picture of a bubble-gum colored filly, with glittering yellow eyes was pasted on top of it with the name “SwiftDance” and  several other informations following. The young mare could read her location too. In the same dossier there were two train tickets, which she took and went out the house, heading to the train station, while the sky was darkening and stars were starting to glow.

-where are you going, Miss?- asked a rather concerned pegasus stallion, that helped her carrying an oddly heavy bag

-Manehattan- she stated with a smile, and the pegasus gladly escorted her to her seat.

-you’re going alone?- he asked concerned. HoneySample hugged herself in the cloak, and easily lied:

-oh no, my ponyfriend is coming with me: see? this is his ticket- she showed the stallion her spare ticket and he laughed:

-oh! well.. good, then! I was afraid that such a lovely mare was travelling all alone! If ya need anything though… I’ll be in the other carriage!- he winked and left her. Her ice-colored eyes not sad for once, but glittering with a dangerous sparkle.

She arrived when the moon was high and found the house that she was searching for very quickly.She stood in front of the fence: it was one of those rare houses in Manehattan that had a garden. She looked up at the window where the filly was supposed to be sleeping and cussed under her breath: oh, if she only was a pegasus she could have flown to there, but she was stuck on the ground by her earth pony form. But…. What was that she heard? A little laugh? She easily jumped the fence and trotted quietly towards the laugh: the filly was in the garden, her little pink body and lavender mane were kissed by the moonlight as she moved and danced gleefully. Yes: she was SwiftDance. A smile appeared on HoneySample’s muzzle

-hello sweetie- she spoke with a soft and smooth voice. The poor filly stopped dancing terrified and looked straight at the unknown mare:

-w-who are you?- she asked frightened

-it doesn’t matter, sweetie- she took some steps towards her –your dancing is marvelous, I can't see why you keep it only for night's darkness. Maybe....  you dance during night because you’re afraid of your parents’ judgment, am I right? - she said mischievously,  the filly blushed at the compliment and nodded with a sad look, muzzle staring at the ground. She shook herself and shouted intimidated:

-m-mother told me to never talk to strangers!- but HoneySample got closer to the shaking filly, pulling off her own hood and bending down to gently caress SwiftDance's cheek

-but, sweetie…- she laughed, a little sparkle of insanity in that laugh –...I’m no stranger- The filly’s eyes widened in pure terror realizing what was happening

-y-you are-! – she couldn’t even finish her sentence,  her head got abruptly smashed on the ground and SwiftDance lost consciousness. The mare motherly took the filly in her arms and sighed. She was getting too loud, and... well, having her unconscious was the best thing for what was coming. HoneySample looked at her with tears in her eyes:

-yes, I am the Mad Mare- after that being said, she sat down on the ground and opened her bag that was full of sharp knives, floggers and a lot more other things that could cause harm. She took a sharp scalpel from the bag and brushed it  slightly against the filly's flawless skin  –you know dear- the mare talked to the unconscious filly while choosing the right spot to start cutting –life is so hard, so cruel. You’re so young and precious… and life can be so hard with you…- she kept talking even when she found the spot and pushed the scalpel hard in the filly’s chest –… and I don’t want this to happen. You poor foals shouldn’t know what pain is and… don’t you worry anymore: I’ll take care of you now, and you’ll never feel pain again, i promise- she kept cutting and slicing the poor filly until it became a lifeless body. She kept talking and saying those "sweet" things. When the first sunshines started illuminating Manehattan, HoneySample felt that she had to hurry and she took the filly’s chest and rip it open –hope you won’t mind sweetie- she said softly –I want to take a little memory of you with me- the mare skillfully cut the squishy, bloody arteries and pulled her heart out, letting the blood spill out of it and after, she conserved it in a special box and hid it inside the bag. After that, she took  needle and thread and started to carefully stitching her chest back –you know- she said at last, with a mischievous smirk –they didn’t notice it when I did this to SpurredDust, so, there's no way they'll notice now- she giggled and kissed the filly’s forehead and, as the night's darkness slowly faded away, she  sang the dead body a sweet lullaby.

The following day, the newspaper reported “ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE MAD MARE, THIS TIME: SWIFTDANCE, FROM MANEHATTAN”