The Cakes' Special Treats

So that’s what she did. The floor next to her moved up to reveal a trapdoor that led down to a brightly lit staircase. Pinkie placed the board and rug back in their original places and walked down. The door closed a few moments after.

Pinkie gulped, slightly unnerved. She didn’t know to get back up; she hoped she didn't get herself stuck, but the staircase was so bright and clean nothing could be bad in here…

Pinkie shrieked at the sight that laid before her, an unconscious stallion was strapped to a table, limbs splayed out. Pinkie ran up to him and looked for a way to get him down, but the straps that kept him in place needed a key to open. She tried to shake him awake. He groaned and tried to move. His eyes shot open. He had a look of confusion and fear on his face. They made eye contact, tears streaking down both their faces.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.

“I won’t. I found this basement, and I found you in here. My name is Pinkie Pie, what’s yours? I’m gonna try to get you down,” She said, voice quivering. She was trying desperately to calm both him and herself down.

“Frame Fitter… that's my name”

“Um… That’s a nice cutie mark. What does it mean?” Pinkie asked. It was a pair of broken glasses.

“Pinkie, this isn’t the time for small talk, just try to get me out of here.”

“Okay… What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was walking alone, heading home from work, I felt something bad… I guess, then I woke up here.”

“We’re under a building called Sugar Cube Corner. It looks like a super-duper yummy gingerbread house. Tell me about the ponies that own it while I look for a key or somethi-”

The opening of the trapdoor interrupted pinkie’s words. She looked to Frame, who mouthed Run. She looked around and hid under a blanket; it wasn’t a good hiding spot, but it was the only one she could find on such brief notice.

She heard Frame scream at his captors, plead, and weep, but eventually, all she heard was his cries of pain. Although he never mentioned the filly under the covers. Then nothing. There were 2 ponies’ voices, a mare, and a stallion, discussing his kill like it was routine.

Pinkie tried her best to stay still, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before they found her. At least Frame died decently quickly. She hoped it would be the same for her. At that thought, she felt her mane deflate slightly, not enough to cause a visible difference, but Pinkie felt it all the same. She heard hoof steps come close to her hiding spot alongside a strange jingly noise.

“Let’s deal with whoever is under the covers,” the mare said as she ripped away the blanket.

Pinkie froze, looked at the blue mare, and prepared to run, but stopped as she felt something wrap around her neck. She watched as the chain wrapped around her neck was secured to a metal loop embedded in the wall. The blue mare walked away, back towards Frame. Or at least, what was left of him, Pinkie silently wept, looking between her friend and the ponies that took his life.

They had already put many of his innards in buckets and were now removing his muscle from the bone. There was blood, so much blood. It covered the floor, table, and the killers. It marred their fur, but they hardly paid it any mind. They were so efficient at cleaning his corpse. In fact, they finished in a little over half an hour. They left only the bones and a few strategically placed chunks of meat behind. Pinkie stared at a clock located opposite her, refusing to look at anything else lest she find something worse than they already forced her to endure. She forced herself to look at the cupcake-haired mare as she walked to a flight of stairs different from the ones they came down from. The yellow stallion must have already left because he was nowhere to be found. Pinkie saw her open another trap door. She saw her opportunity and screamed.

“SOMEPONY PLEASE HELP!” Pinkie screamed. “Please come help, Frame Fitter was just killed, and then they foalnapped me!”

The cupcake-haired mare ignored her and continued to walk up, bucket in tow. Although Pinkie noticed an amused smile on the women’s lips.

“Help me, please!” Pinkie screamed. Her cries filled the basement, but no one came to save her.

The blue mare still ignored her ever-increasing shouts, except her previously amused smile changed to one of annoyance.

She came down to get a second, then a third bucket, but before she did, she told Pinkie, “Honey, no one will hear you, we are underground, the store is empty, and the room is soundproof.”

Pinkie continued to yell and scream until she grew hoarse, “I-I know I’m a pony, but I guess I’m also a little hoarse,” she stammered in a futile attempt to cheer herself up. The mare left, leaving Pinkie all alone.

She collapsed to the floor, bawling. Frame was just killed and dismembered in front of her and she was now chained up in the basement of the culprits. She had no food and only the bare necessities; she didn’t know how long she would stay there, nor did she know if they would even keep her alive.

Her cries were interrupted by the opening of the back door. Pinkie’s heart skipped a beat, both from fear and hope of being rescued. Though they were quickly crushed as she saw the blue mare walk down with a sack.

Pinkie, not knowing what the sack contained, started to cry harder. Though she did not try to escape. The cupcake-haired mare placed down the sack next to Pinkie and opened it. Pinkie watched, and much to her confusion, she saw it was filled not with weapons, but toys, instruments, and a few necessities. The mare turned on Pinkie’s light and walked back.

She told Pinkie, “Honey, I’m sorry we trapped you in here, but we are making smiles by doing this. You don’t get it now, but I hope you will later.” She gave Pinkie a smile, turned off the basement light, and walked away, up the stairs, and out of the basement.

Those words did nothing to help the distraught filly. She sniffled, covered herself in the sheet, curled in a ball, and cried herself to sleep.