Voyage For A Sparkle

The deep sound of a horn stirs me awake. I stretch out my body, and wipe the dirt from my cheek. Drowsily, I lean over and check the ceramic dish I placed in the corner of my sleeping space. I am instantly overwhelmed by the sight of the amount of water it has captured. The water still is dripping down from the roots dangling from above. Excitedly, I grab the dish and guzzle down the wondrous, icy cold fluid. With the dish empty, I set it back under the roots in the hopes I may come back to another full dish. "You wastes of flesh had better be awake in there!" Realizing who's voice is calling, I scramble to my hooves and approach inclining tunnel leading up to the surface. I can see our hooded overseer waiting at the entrance to the den. "You! Weak-Mind!" She calls. "Wake the others and come to the surface! My time is not to be wasted." The overseer leaves, and I do as commanded by checking up on the others that live with me in the den. They don't appear to be in the spots they were in before we went to sleep. However, I can hear a faint whispering far off on the other side of the den. Following the whispers, I discover the entirety of my group gathered together in spot, tucked far away from my sleeping space. Upon noticing me, they all stop whatever they were talking about to look to me. One tall, slender stallion and two younger mares, all looking at me as if I'm unwelcome to their little gathering. Without uttering a single word, they all get up and walk right passed me.

I follow them to the tunnel, which is so small we are forced to crawl on our bellies in order to leave. We come to the sight of a silver blanket of clouds across the sky, and a blustery wind blowing against us. The entirety of this island is nearly nothing but moist, flat marshland with only a small number of old, rotted trees. I can see what looks like hundreds of other ponies crawling out from their dens and being herded by their overseers. Every single one of them looks miserable and malnourished, and those that have trouble standing are either screamed at, or forced to the ground before being screamed at to stand back up. "Alright, weak-minds, here's how today's harvest is going to go. First, we have our newest addition to the group!" The overseer grabs and shoves a mare towards us. Her eyes are as blue as the sea that roars off the coast of this island, her coat is white; but due to all the mud and filth we are forced to live in, it's really quite hard to tell. Lastly, her mane is as gold as the sun. However, it's difficult to remember a time where my eyes were graced with the heavenly glow of the sun. "Looks like you four won't have to pull the extra weight after all. Now, there's going to be a nasty storm upon us, and you all better be ready to work through it. We never skip a harvest . . . never. Who knows? The faster you all get hooked up, we just might be able to beat the storm." The overseer grins.

Lightning streaks slither across the thick, thundering clouds. Rain pelts my face as the heavy, metal brace around my neck feels as though it could snap my neck at any moment. My legs ache from the straining of pulling my hooves up and out of the thick mud, yet the others and I must move quickly. If we move too slow, the overseer will be displeased. The chain leading from my brace yanks my neck back, cutting off the flow of air into my throat as I fall backward into the cold mud. A despicable cackling erupts from the shadowy window of the carriage as I desperately attempt to get back to my hooves. "What be the matter, Weak-Mind?" The overseer mocks. "You do nothing but wallow in filth, surely you must be used to it by now!" The overseer laughs. One of the members of our group rushes to my aid. I lift up my head to see our newest member kneeling beside me.

"Come, you must get back up," she urges as she wraps one of her forelegs around mine. It's strange. I've never seen such compassion in a pony's eyes before. With a few good tugs, she manages to help me back to my hooves. "Are you alright?" Before I can even contemplate an answer to her question, I feel something whip across my back sending an intense burning sensation throughout my body. I collapse back to my knees, digging my hooves into the mud to help keep myself from falling face-first back into the filth.

"Help that weak-mind once more, and you shall be next!" The overseer warns. The mare hesitates, but reaches out to assist me regardless. I hold out my hoof to her, signaling her to refrain from helping. Stunned, the mare steps away as she painfully watches me struggle to fight through the agony. "Yes, let him get up himself! He has to be strong enough to do at least that. If not, perhaps he wouldn't mind being banished to the pit!" I push myself to my limits at the very thought of being sent to the pit, dragging the chain along with my weight through the mud. The mare and I continue down the path as the rest of our group watches us in fear. I do my best to power through the pain and ignore their gaze, but I can't shake the feeling of them watching. Once the mare and I pick back up our pace, the others follow suit.

Fighting through the storm and mud for what feels like an eternity, I can see a faint, greenish aura up ahead. Finally, we are nearing our destination. "Halt! That is far enough!" At our overseer's command, we all drop to our knees as we savor the moment to catch our breath. The ground is much more solid here, yet instead of a rich brown, it's become a charcoal-black. The overseer hops out from her carriage, and approaches us in a long, dark cloak. She unlocks us from our braces, dropping them into the mud with a splash; and instead she harnesses a basket that hangs from our necks. "Now, go! And pick as much as your pathetic bodies can carry! And unless you'd like to end up like that poor, poor wretch from yesterday, I wouldn't even consider the thought of escaping." The overseer pulls down her hood, revealing the mare's radiant, piercing yellow eyes. Her coat of fur is a sickly gray, and is even beginning to fall out to reveal her skin. "For I will be watching." She leans in and glares into the eyes of one of the younger mares. "Very. . ." She then walks over to me, and hisses as she reveals her crooked, jagged teeth. "Closely." She grins. With a crack of her whip, all of us spring up and hurry to the farming ground.

I approach one of the sources of the greenish aura: a Bulbstalk, is what they call them. Hundreds of these sprout up from the ground. Their stalks are grimy and fleshy, and at the tips of these plants are where these bulbous legions grow. The tips of these pinkish stalks are the glowing, swollen sacks we must harvest, and it's a very delicate process. Reaching into my basket with my mouth, I retrieve the tool we are given to retrieve the legion: a jagged shard of stone. I lean towards the tip of the stalk, careful not to puncture the bulb. One wrong cut, or just a tad too much pressure, and the bulb will burst. What follows is a swift whipping from the overseer, and with the stinging sensation already coursing across my back, I must be cautious.

Gently, I glide the edge of the stone along the thin membrane protecting the bulb, causing it to split and peel away. Successfully, I pluck the gelatinous orb from the stalk. Just as I'm about to place it in my basket, the overseer swipes it from my hooves. "Hmm," she examines it all around. "Nice work, Weak-Mind." She then shoves the glowing blob into her mouth, and once her teeth pierce through its skin, a small trail of glowing fluid drips down the side of her chin. I watch in disgust as she forcefully swallows the chewed-up glob, and blows a breath of fowl air into my face. Her long, forked tongue hangs out, and she licks the side of my face as I shut my eyes with shivers running up my spine. "Keep it up, and I just might reward you . . . might." Her grin suddenly vanishes as she lifts her head up in full alert, sniffing the air. "I smell . . . panic." Ship whips around, and dashes towards one of the younger mares who reels back in terror. She fearfully shuts her eyes as the overseer takes a deep breath near her face. "You're nervous about something. Tell me, what is it that makes you so nervous?"

"N-Nothing. I-I swear," she pleas.

"Oh, no, no. Nopony is nervous for no reason." The overseer runs her hoof through the mare's dark-brown mane, causing her to whimper and freeze in place. "You should know better than to lie to your overseer. You're plotting something, aren't you?" The mare keeps her mouth shut, refusing to answer. Losing her patience, the overseer grabs a wooden handle from the belt tied around her waist, and holds it near the mare's face. With one clench of the overseer's jaw, two sharpened blades flip out, one on either side of the handle. The mare gasps and jolts as her eyes glue to the menacing blades. "Now," she then gently glides one of the blades through the pink coat of fur along her neck. "Shall I ask again?"

"Stop!" The mare who assisted me earlier demands. "Leave her be!"

"You know," the overseer glares directly at the other mare, and slowly walks up to her as she bravely stands her ground. "I'm starting to lose my patience with you. All this compassion and care you show for these ponies, it honestly makes me sick. It's no wonder Ral'kai offered you to me as a replacement, you truly are a disgusting creature. However, he told me you also do fine work, so I've been generous enough to leave you be."

"Well, just let her continue to do her work, and I'll continue to do mine."

"Oh, you see, the problem with that is. . ." The overseer swings her blade, creating a gash across the mare's face. I can feel my heart start to pound as I clench my teeth. She falls to the ground, pressing her hoof against her cheek as she writhes in pain. "No weak-mind is going to tell me what's going to happen, that's what I do; and let me tell you, there's going to be a surprise for you come morning." I can see blood start to drip from underneath the mare's hoof, and an anger like I've never felt before ravages my body. The overseer looks to me with the bloody blade still in her mouth. I can tell she knows what I'm feeling, she always knows, and she smiles at me. "Keep working! All of you! Our work isn't finished until we fill this carriage!" I watch the injured mare stand, keeping her head down and away from the overseer's line of sight. It's hard to tell how severe her cut is with her long, wet mane drooping over her face; but the constant drips of blood make it obvious it's a deep cut. Fearing another scolding from the overseer, I set the situation aside to continue farming.