The Vile Knife

Chapter four

Ticking timebomb.

The first thing you become aware of is a dull, throbbing pain in your head. The pain is emanating from the centre of your forehead, and spreading outwards, like ripples on a pond. It feels like you've been smashed over the head with a brick. The pain is so intense that it's distorting your vision. Strange lights and colours swim before your eyes. Everything around you is blurred and out of focus, and your ears are filled with a strange ringing noise. And it's making you feel rather nauseous.

And then everything snaps back into place. You are lying on your back on the hard wooden floor of the library. Standing over you, with a very concerned and anxious look on her face, is Twilight Sparkle. You stare into her eyes, and she stares back. Her mouth moves as she speaks, but you hear no words. She scrunches up her face in confusion, and then she crouches slightly, tilting herself forwards, getting closer to your face. Her breath smells of lavender. Weird. Your lack of a response to her verbalisation seems to have alarmed her further. She steps backward, and her horn seems to glow with an incandescent aurora. The familiar feeling of being targeted by magic courses through your body. It feels like standing under a high-voltage powerline back home. The air around you crackles with static, and, with a small pop, the ringing noise stops, and you can hear again. As the feeling subsides, she speaks again, in a slow, clear voice, not unlike the one you would use to address a particularly young child, she says:

"Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

You struggle to adopt a sitting position as you attempt to reply, but the words come out of your mouth in a jumbled mess.

"Alaflyughimfinereallyohshitifeelsickblah"

She tilts her head to one side and frowns, obviously confused. Her response is thus:

"I'm sorry, what did yo-"

She is interrupted mid-sentence, as you vomit rather spectacularly onto the floor in front of you, splattering your clothes with drops of bile. With a rather surprised squeak, Twilight leaps backward hurriedly, slips, and crashes heavily into a bookcase. Several books take the apparent opportunity to make a bid for freedom, and they tumble off the shelf, each of them bouncing off Twilight's head with a dull thud, before crashing onto the floor in a disorganised heap. The cloying scent of fresh vomit assaults your nostrils. You stare at the steaming pool of thick, yellow bile, and then back up at Twilight, who is attempting to untangle herself from the bookcase. You smile half-heartedly, and reply weakly :

"...Well, there goes my breakfast."

A while later, you find yourself stepping out of the library and onto the empty street. The sun is setting, and the day is almost over. The streets are deserted. Twilight has ejected you from the premises in order to "clean up the mess". You hope that she hasn't started conducting experiments on the contents of your stomach: You wouldn't be too surprised if she did just that. You have grown used to the repeated, seemingly random tests you have been subjected to during your time here. After she had requested to carry out some more... Intrusive experiments, you'd made it your business to avoid her as much as possible.

As you walk down the cobblestone streets, you suddenly become aware of a nagging sensation to look to your right. Whipping your head round, you see a thin alleyway, between two buildings. Curiosity overtakes you, and you slip into the alley. And there, lying on the floor, in the centre of the alleyway, is a small, blue container, roughly the size of a shoebox. Walking over to it, you immediately pick it up. The box appears to be made of some sort of exotic wood: A strange scent wafts upwards from the box. The box doesn't seem to be locked in any way, so you lift the lid. The small, silver hinges move without so much as a squeak. The inside of the box is lined with thick, red velvet. And there, nestled in the soft lining of the box, is a beautifully crafted flintlock pistol. The handle is capped with a sheet of brass, which has been carefully crafted to resemble the facial features of a roaring manticore. The metal barrel is decorated likewise, thick vines engraved into the metal, winding their way around the cylindrical barrel. It shines with a highly polished gleam.

Lifting the pistol out of the box with your right hand, you test its weight. Perfect. Looking back at the box, you notice a hand-written message attached to the underside of the lid. In strange, curling letters, the note reads:

"This is chaos. Locked, loaded and ready to fire. Only one shot I'm afraid.

Looking back at the gun, you wonder just who this mysterious "D" person is, and why they would give you such a beautiful weapon. You open the firing pan, and see that it is indeed primed with gunpowder. Suddenly, a voice sounds from behind you, making you jump and drop the box.

"Ooooh? What's that!? It's shiny!"

What happens next seems to take place in slow motion. An unseen force seems to posses your body, taking control. You have the rather unnerving feeling of helplessness, as if you are separated from reality by a pane of glass. Your body moves unbidden, and you spin around, point the pistol squarely at the chest of the pink pony standing a little way behind you, and pull the trigger. The pistol's lock flicks downward, dragging the flint against a curved piece of metal. The shape of the metal directs the resulting sparks downward, into the firing pan. The gunpowder there ignites, sending flame and smoke billowing in every direction. The explosion carries on, through a small hole in the side of the barrel, igniting the main charge. With a thunderous boom, the main charge propels a small lead ball along and out of the barrel. Smoke and flame issue forth from the mouth of the barrel, as the bullet hurtles onward, into the chest of the intended target.

The heavy lead ball impacts the target, tearing a large, gaping hole in the center of her chest. The bullet carries on through the chest cavity, ripping flesh and smashing bone, before coming to a stop as it lodges itself in the vertebra of the spine, somewhere close to the middle of her back. The shot results in an explosion of gore. Blood, bone and flesh fly in every direction, showering you with a spray of hot, red blood. The force of the shot sends the unfortunate recipient toppling backwards, smashing down onto the hard, cobblestone street below.

And then control of your body is returned to you. The oppressive force leaves as quickly as it came. Your hand trembles as you lower your arm. The pistol tumbles from your grasp, clattering to the floor. You take a shuddering step forward, and then collapse to your knees beside your victim as your legs give way.

Somehow, the shot hasn't killed her outright. Perhaps it would have been better if it had. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps: The bullet has almost certianly punctured a lung. As you fall to your knees beside her, she turns her head slowly, and looks you in the eyes. Staring into those baby-blue eyes, you see that she is crying. Crystaline tears fall from her face, splashing onto the ground below. And you suddenly realise that you're crying too. Your body shudders as the after-shocks of adrenaline kick in. With a final, ragged breath, she breathes her last, and lies still. Her head flops limply to the floor. And her eyes, so full of life a moment ago, are empty. Lifeless, like shining orbs of polished glass.

You raise your hands infront of your face, and see that they are covered in blood. Your clothes are similarly stained. That's when something snaps inside you. An infernal, terrible rage boils up from inside you, and fills you with a terrible anger. With a roar of pain, rage and anguish, you leap to your feet, and sprint away through the empty streets, in the direction of the Everfree forest, The only place ponies fear to tread. You'll
make a fine addition to the horrors lurking within.