…..........
........................................
Damn this two dimensional existence! I can’t even hold a quill in my mouth to write this all out. I was going to try to write a letter so somepony could understand me, but—
What? Hello? I can hear myself. Wow, this is surreal.
Can anypony else hear me? No? Drat! I guess I’ll just have to lumber on through this miserable existence, alone. Damn that pink pony, she did this to me. I’m not sure how, but I know it was her. I was just strolling through the Everfree—I knew that was a mistake—and then: Pink, everywhere. Some blue leaves, and then I woke up. And, and...
Oh listen to me, rambling on and on like this. Nopony can hear me but me. Still, it is almost comforting to imagine that I’m not the one really saying all this, and there is somepony out there in this strange looking world that I can talk to, if not just me.
Okay, since nopony can hear me but me, you are all a bunch of useless, imbecilic, disgusting and... And—Oh my—strange looking ponies.
I’m serious, look. Oh wait, you’re me. Stop it me. Anyway look, they’re... seriously weird. They’re all bulbous and... Oh no. Oh Celestia no! It would appear that I’ve been trapped in this form long enough that three-dimensional objects have begun to look strange to me.
Wait. What’s that?
A wall. Oh thank goodness.
I never imagined I would feel so at home, being flat up against a wall.
It has occurred to me that I cannot hear anything the bulbous ones are saying.
They are all gathering around me. Staring at me.
Well who wouldn’t? You’re a colorful, flat... Oh that’s right, I’m two-dimensional. Damn that pink pony, she did this to–
Stop it! You’re talking in circles.
I’m also talking to myself thank you.
Yes, yes you are.
Agh! Stop!! They would probably lock us up if they knew.
Us?
Aaagh!!
They seem to think I am some sort of, moving mural.
And I can’t seem to leave this damned wall!
I suppose if I can’t talk to them or hear them, I might as well try to communicate through movement.
Yes, you can all see me. Good.
Come on, come on. Get the message.
I’m a pony, just like you. I was cursed into this form by that pink—
There she is! That’s her; she’s the one who did this to me.
They seem to have understood that. They’ve all turned toward her.
She sees me.
Yes, yes me! The one who chased you through the woods. There’s been some mistake, you need to fix me.
She seems to have taken the hint.
I can’t believe that worked. Whoohoo! I’ll be out of here soon.
She’s... leaving.
Wait, No! Come back!
Let me out of here.
She’s back, and she’s brought a purple one too.
Her horn is glowing.
It’s not as bulbous as the rest of her body.
Oh my, she’s gone red in the face, I hope she’s alright.
Her horn has stopped glowing. She’s on the ground, wheezing.
The striped one is conversing with her, and gesturing to me.
Yes, yes help me please!
The Zebra is shaking her head. The pink one is crying.
They’re not going to free me, are they?
The pink one has returned. She is still crying. If I could just move I would–
I can’t... move.
Why can’t I move?
The purple one is with her. Her pointy horn is glowing.
Curses and slander! Damn you, you!... you.
Is she... crying too?
It’s pointless; she’s never going to get me out of here.
Wait, what is that?
She’s—she’s holding out a roundish, stick like thing, with little lines coming off of it. At least something out there isn’t quite so bulbous.
She’s dipped it into a shiny round container.
It’s got some sort of red paste all over it.
What are you doing? Wait! Stop! Don’t touch me!
Ugh, gross. What is this stuff? it’s so sticky.
She didn’t cover up my face at least. I can still look around.
I have lost all feeling in every part of my body.
I no longer feel the wind against my impossibly flat frame.
Probably an improvement; you might have been blown over otherwise.
Shut up.
I can’t even feel that ugly, disgusting paste she covered me in. Thank goodness for that at least.
The days are beginning to blur together.
If you can even call them days. I mostly just watch that bright light over there go up, over and over again. And every time the same thing happens: it goes out of my range of vision, and the world begins to grow dark.
I have begun to lose track of time.
I have no idea how long I have been here, but that paste the pink one smeared on me has left me unable to escape.
The paste has begun to crack.
Can I... can I possibly wriggle free?
No.
It is barely hanging on but I still cannot seem to move beneath it.
The bright light comes up over the distant horizon for... I can’t even count how many times it’s been now. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.
Why am I still talking to myself?
I think the only solace I have left is the sight of these flowers every morning.
Yes, their sweet aroma every morning is very heartening.
They bring me hope.
Yes, hope that I might escape this wretched prison someday.
I think, if I ever get out of here, I might take up gardening.
Yes, that seems like a worthy notion. I’ll plant flowers, lots and lots of beautiful flowers.
If I could just get this damned paste off.
The pink one is... standing right in front of me.
She’s begun scraping off sections of that awful paste.
Thank Celestia. I’m saved.
She’s crying again. Why is she crying?
Wait. She’s... smearing more on.
No! Stop! Not the face, Not the face!
I—I think I’m... Blind.
I’ve nearly lost all touch with the outside world.
Damn you pink pony. Damn you to hell.
I woke up this morning to discover...
I woke up?
How do I know that I’m awake?
I can no longer smell the flowers I used to love so much.
I can no longer smell anything beneath this ugly black paste.
Do I... even exist?
I’m going to be here forever aren’t I?
