Discursive Formations: Headfirst for Halos
happy thoughts think happy thoughts
It was not raining in North End. This was unusual. He had lived in North End his entire life and had grown used to the constant patter of rain and the feeling of drops against his coat. He didn’t know why it always rained in North End, and frankly, he didn’t care.
Though it wasn’t raining, it was still cold. The stallion shivered as a gust of cold wind blew through his mane. His teeth chattered and his body shook fiercely. “Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts,” he muttered to himself.
The path up to the mountain had cut and bruised his hooves, and the low hanging branches had scratched his coat. He didn’t know why he was continuing, but he pressed onwards. He had to find the cave.
He heard stories about the cave from his drinking buddies. They said that there were rumors that somewhere in the mountains was a grand cavern, a place where fallen ponies could find peace at last. They said that ponies who went there never returned, because they would walk away reborn, enlightened, and ready to start a new life.
That sounded like exactly what he needed. His body shook violently, but it wasn’t just because he was cold. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a nice bottle of Appleloosan Whiskey right about now…
He paused, looking up. The wind stung at his eyes, but he pushed through. He was standing in front of a massive cave entrance. Gnarled stalactites hung from the ceiling, and piles of rocks littered the floor. It was the perfect place to die.
“No. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts,” he muttered to himself. He entered the cave, hoping for refuge from the harsh winds.
This was stupid. How would he even know if this was the right cave? He sighed, angry at himself for sinking so low. But he didn’t have any other options.
The stallion froze. Underneath the wind, he could almost hear a soft voice calling out to him. Looking around, however, he only saw rock and stone. But something was there. He was reasonably sure of this.
“Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.” He set off into the cave, exploring. It seemed to descend, leading him lower and lower. The floor, thankfully, was mostly flat, reminding him of the paved roads in Canterlot.
In fact, it was almost too smooth. There were a few pebbles and rocks that lay on the ground, but other than that nothing blocked his path. That seemed odd to him, but then again he wasn’t an expert on caves. In fact, he wasn’t an expert on anything at all, except for drinking. “No. Happy thoughts.”
He paused after a few steps, listening intently. But he heard nothing. It was calming. A smile found its way onto the stallion’s lips. He felt better already. But as he took a few steps forwards, his ear twitched. The voice was back.
It spoke in a serene, melodious tone. Yet he couldn’t make out the words. But he could feel it calling out to him. Beckoning.
With a deep breath, he continued down the cave. He wondered how deep it went. Looking around, he realized just how lonely it was. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the outside world anymore. It was moving on just fine without him. “Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.”
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. He paused again, but this time the voice didn’t stop. It was in his ear now, whispering to him. Laughing at him. Telling him that there was no escape, because it was too late.
“Happy. Thoughts.” The stallion blinked and took a step backwards. The cave wasn’t beautiful and quiet anymore. The whispering grew louder in his ear, speaking of ideas without words. This wasn’t worth it, he decided. He’d be better off going home and nursing a nice red wine.
With that in mind, the stallion turned and trotted back up the cave. He only took a few steps when he flinched. The voice wasn’t melodious anymore. Instead, it was hostile, hurling insults at him. Telling him he’d never be worth anything.
The stallion picked up his pace. The voice still called to him, but he tried to ignore it. “Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts,” he chanted.
But even as he spoke, his canter slowed down until he stopped completely. Something was horribly wrong. He had turned around to leave, but somehow, he was still going down.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyes grew wide. He whirled around and galloped into the other direction. But he was still going down. The walls around him seemed to narrow, leaving him with nowhere else to go.
Panic gripped his throat. The voice was louder now, mocking him. He could make out the voice now: it was his own. “Happy thoughts! Think happy thoughts!” it said, laughing all the while.
He screamed. It echoed off the walls, bouncing through the cavern. Nobody answered. He galloped off at full speed, but no matter where he went, he was still going down. As he ran, his hoof caught on a rock, and he came crashing to the ground.
The voice stopped. As he groggily got to his hooves, he realized that he had ended up in some sort of chamber within the cave. The sound of dripping water seemed to echo from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite identify the source. As he looked around, he noticed strange symbols carved into the cavern walls, in a language that he couldn’t quite identify.
“Come closer.”
He jumped. The voice was back now, but it was clearer. In the center of the room, there was a deep hole. Curious, the stallion took a few shaky steps towards it. The voice was soothing, comforting now. “Come closer.”
At the edge of the hole, the stallion looked down. All he saw was darkness. He squinted, but he was unable to see the bottom. Yet he felt as if there was something in there, staring back at him.
There was a massive crash behind him. The stallion whirled around, and his heart skipped a beat. Something had fallen from the ceiling. His eyes widened as he saw a pony-shaped form, sprawled out on the ground. A pool of red began to form underneath it.
Run.
The stallion’s eyes whipped about the cavern. There was no way out. Panic filled his lungs as he scrambled to back away from the body. There was only the hole.
Looking down, he felt there was something inside, staring back at him. The whispering voices surrounded him like an early morning fog. The symbols on the wall came to life, glowing with a pulsing purple light.
Jump.
Happy thoughts. He felt his body tense and his legs bend slightly. Happy thoughts. He took to the air and for a brief second he was flying. Happy thoughts. Then, the moment passed and gravity kicked in.
And he fell. Time lost its meaning to him as he slipped from its grasp. He tumbled, screaming, through the air. He clawed at the darkness, desperately trying to find something to grab. But there was nothing.
Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts…
And he fell. The wind stung at his eyes, tears trailing from his face. The darkness shrouded him, and he saw nothing. His voice grew hoarse as he screamed and screamed. He begged for someone to come save him. He hoped that somehow, he’d wake up from this horrible dream, safe and sound in his bed.
The wind roared in his ear. He fell and he fell and he fell. His throat burned, but still he screamed. He didn’t know how long it had been, but it felt like an eternity. Maybe it was. A part of him thought that was ridiculous. He’d have to hit the ground eventually.
Happythoughtsthinkhappythoughtsthinkhappythoughtsthink--
It was not raining in North End. Agent Canon didn’t find this unusual, but apparently the locals did.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Agent Rouge said. “I mean, we’re not characters in a noir story or something. It doesn’t always have to be raining.”
Agent Canon let out a low ‘hm.’ She fixed her gaze on that massive cavern entrance in front of her. “Rouge, dear, you know as well as I do that we shouldn’t be so dismissive of local folklore.”
Rouge scoffed. “Right, sorry. This must be a Discursion. How could I have been so blind? Obviously, something is screwing with reality here. That’s why it’s always raining.”
“Dear, I’m more concerned about the cave than I am about the rain,” Canon replied.
Rouge nodded, her electric blue mane bouncing up and down. “Yeah, right. The cave.”
Canon closed her eyes, planting her front hooves on the ground. She felt something stirring beneath the earth and something moving in the winds. “Rouge, if you would?”
“Gotcha.” Rouge’s horn lit up, and the unicorn focused her energy. A faint white wisp of magic travelled into the cave. After a few minutes, Rouge’s eyes glazed over as she entered a trance-like state. “Alright. I see a hole of some sort.”
“Can you follow it down?”
Rouge narrowed her eyes. “Trying. It’s going down. Still going down… still…”
She fell silent. Rouge mumbled to herself, eyes still glazed over, standing stock still. After ten minutes, Canon tapped a hoof on her shoulder. “Rouge? What’s wrong?”
Rouge blinked. “I… I can’t follow it. It… it just keeps going.”
Canon frowned. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook. “Hm.”
Rouge canceled her spell and opened her eyes. “So are we writing this up?”
“We are. It would appear the Guildmaster was correct. We are dealing with a Discursion of sorts, though thankfully this one seems neutral,” Canon replied. “A hole that goes on forever. Not the worst thing, I suppose.”
“Yeah, but…” Rouge shifted on her hooves awkwardly. “... the screams. Sweet Celestia, those screams.”
Canon looked up at her, concerned. “What screams?”
Rouge shivered. “There’s a pony in there. I heard him screaming. He’s just… falling.”
“He’s alive?” Canon asked, surprised. “Rouge, are you sure? Our intelligence says that the last time a pony came up here was fifteen years ago.”
“I know. And yes, I’m sure.”
Both of their eyes went to the cave entrance. Underneath the wind, they could hear a soft voice, calling out to them. Canon shook her head and turned away. “...there’s nothing we can do for him,” she said softly. “I will contact the Guildmasters. Perhaps we can seal off the entrance.”
With that, Canon turned away from the cave. “...there’s nothing we can do,” she said again, absently. Rouge stood for a second, the screams reverberating in her mind. She shook the thoughts off and turned to follow Canon back down the hill.
Underneath the wind and the dirt, deep within the mountains, a silent voice wordlessly called for help.
Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think…
…
…
…
End.
