Demented: The Beginning

Today marks a month after I entered their world. It's more glorious than I expected. The residents care for one another- they see one another. They don't just walk past and ignore each other, they greet their fellows with a resounding how-do-you-do. Unlike us humans, where we— or rather, they— greet relatively vehemently- vociferously. It brings joy to my heart to know the love these ponies have for each other.

Hearken! the sounds of love and laughter, that so elegantly echoes in the breeze. Calmly do they play games, calmly do they go about their affairs. Nay, say I, do the residents of God's green Earth enjoy such gaiety. Our world could be saved, perchance. If these goddesses saw our dilemma, then they might be willing to fix us-- restore us-- reshape us into their form.

"Nay!" said I. "These beings must be left in peace, they must be left at ease." Their perfection is what makes them them. Humans are imperfect, and we do well. So why do I believe this? I cannot tell.

For days unending, during my own repenting, I felt darkness in my core. Darkness to take the life of these godly maidens, ones who'd call me laden, those who I truly do adore. May the gods that hath sent me, forgive these sins which I abhor. Know my mind is now broken, no thought is left pure golden— I cannot live like this forevermore! May I be cast out in corruption, even when they ask my presence be scorned.

"Your making too much of this," said a, now familiar, voice.

"Too much? Truly it's not enough!" I cried. "My thoughts darken the longer I stay here in pure joy. No single power can dissipate the feelings in my soul."

"True," it agreed, "but if you do a little something to show your worship, they'll let you stay." At these words my heart stopped beating, but only for a second. I was hidden in the shadows, so no one would worry about me talking to an unseen being.

"What does thou offer now?" I ask genuinely curious. From there my mind goes blank. I remember not a single thing. Maybe the others can fill-in the gaps.

So he's finally done talking? Good. He never learns to shut up, especially when he starts doing that way of speaking. Honestly, that author is dead, but he's obsessed with him. Anyway, I'm Abaddon. Don't ask why that's my name, it just is. Anyway, after Obed asked that question I took over.

"You must sacrifice one of them," the voice had said. "Only then will they acknowledge your worship." I made that deal. I don't worship anything, but I have a feeling Obed would appreciate it. I don't care that I have to do it, he obviously won't— the coward. So I wait until eleven at night. 'A sliver of silver shining through a cloudy sky' as Obed would say, the fucking playwright.

One pony— the things he puts me through— is outside at this time. She seems young, maybe a filly. Purple and pink mane, white coat, and a horn levitating her stuff into her saddle bag. She may resist with her powers. A difficult task, but I've done more challenging things. No adult is watching her, so she's alone or too far ahead of her guardian. Regardless, I plan my attack.

Using a burlap sack I... 'found', I toss it over her and tie it closed. Her shouts were muffled, but still deafening. I raced to the cave we found day one. We've made a few improvements to it since our arrival: a dungeon, makeshift kitchen, and bed. The dungeon is for any intruders we find, but now it's for victims.

After tying her to four wooden posts on a table and gagging her mouth shut, I run to grab tools. What a helpless being. She struggles to free herself, but to no avail. I return with the tools: a meat hook, two sai, a cleaver, a scalpel, and a hammer. I know the human body— I studied it in school— but I know little of her's. Sure, she is technically a horse, but I never studied that. Only one way to find out.

I stab the meat hook through her stomach, and drag it til the wound is seven inches in length. Slowly, I retract it and find that her intestines were torn out in the process. She's spitting up blood, coughing whenever it enters her lungs. A consistent flow of tears never leaving her face. Does she expect pity? Does she expect me to show mercy from now on? I never pity— never show mercy to my victims. She isn't the only one who has experienced my wrath. One dozen before her begged— cried for me to stop, but I continued. Taking the meat hook in my left hand, I plunge it through one front hoof, nailing it in place. I take the cleaver in my right, raise it above my head, and swing it down, making sure it is exactly at the joint. She cries out in agony, and looks away from her dismembered limb.

"Get over it," I hiss. "This is only the beginning." She won't stop crying, her voice weak from all the shrieking she's done. I retrieve the meat hook from her detached limb, yanking it out. Once more I punctured her front hoof, and once more I chop it off. She's drifting in and out of consciousness now, the blood loss taking its toll on her. Nevertheless, I continue my 'work'. I glide the scalpel across her chest, making a 'Y'-incision. Pulling back the flaps of skin, I gaze upon her rib cage. I frown a little, disappointed by the fact that her heart still beats.

It taunts me. The continuous rhythm beating like a drum in a marching band. How I loathe the sound. A deep passion to silence it overwhelms me, and I act upon it. Taking the hammer, I swing repeatedly until her ribs are reduced to fragments. Judging by her flinching upon each hit, it must be agonizing. Oh well, I have no care in the world. Grabbing a sai in each hand, I ponder my options. Should I puncture her eyes, rending her blind, or should I end her life? Decisions, decisions. I went to see if I had something extra to use. Guess what I found? A machete! Not only can I now use the sai to blind her, but I can also pierce her heart— maybe even go through her spine. And that's exactly what I did. You should have heard her breathe her last, utter the name of someone she hoped would find her. While I question who 'Rarity' is, I know she'll meet the same fate— except in a different manner. My work done, I surrender control to another.