I found something today, and get this: It gave me food. Unwillingly, of course, but that’s just how it is.

I don’t know what it is or where it came from. Like me, it had been wandering the hallways of this crypt for who knows how long—and how long has it been, anyone? No response? Alright, be silent. No day and night, no sun and moon, and I have nothing with me to help me tell the time—not that it is truly consequential, but I would like to know how much time has passed, if only to give myself more reassurance that I am still human. I don’t need to sleep much, not like I used to. In fact, I would hazard that I don’t need sleep at all, but I’d like to at least do something in an effort to preserve normality. Maybe, I need to sleep some other way—a way I haven’t yet discovered. For now though, anxiety and paranoia are the norms.

But the thing I found, that made today better than all the other ones was something different. I had seen the other creatures—bound to two legs like a human, but wrapped in thick cords of red muscle that looked as though they could tear a car in twain. Scary-looking motherfuckers, but they pay me no mind. Most of the time, at least. Every once and awhile (or it could be every other minute, I don’t really know) one of them will become overly-aggressive and try to turn me into a meal. The first few times, they nearly did, but a few punches put them in their place—and rearranged a few jaws, who knew humans were so strong? Now though, I make them my meals.

This thing was something else though. Twice as long as me, twice as short, with a coat matted in dust, but distinctly blue. Quadrupedal, with wings, and a horn. An equine—a pegasus? A unicorn? A pegacorn?

Alicorn.

An Alicorn, yes. Forgive me.

It must have been sleeping when I found it, for it—she didn’t give any fight. She—

Us.

You, my bad.

—didn’t fight back. But what you did do was give me a source of light. That horn of yours, it’s magical. That word tastes terrible in my mouth, but it’s the only one that fits. Appalling for a scientist to use such diction, but nothing makes sense anymore, now does it? At least I’m not hungry anymore. Thank you, sincerely.

Your flesh tasted tender—much better than those other things. They taste terrible; the best description would be rotten fish mixed with sawdust. My microbiome, it’s different though, so my body doesn’t complain when I eat them, only my ersatz taste buds—can’t be a human without those, after all. And my head, I can’t forget that. Voices; broken voices in my head, all the time. Like memories, I think. But all jumbled, swirling around in a riot of motion, loving, running, screaming, fucking, dying. They always end in dying. But not yours.

Not mine?

No, not yours. Yours ended in sadness. Banishment of some kind. A bigger sister? I had a little sister, so I suppose I can relate.

Had?

Had. As in the past tense. She’s probably dead right now, along with the rest of the human race, at the hands of those things. But they don’t bother me. They can’t bother me, even if I wanted them to. Not anymore.

...What—she like?

I don’t know—at least, not anymore. She was a tough little tike when we were growing up, always trying to impress me and prove to our parents that she was a rebel, and she wasn’t going to be told what to do. We went our separate ways come college, and I hadn’t spoken to her before being sent here. Probably should have, just to say goodbye, or something. She deserved that, at least.

Sent?

Damn right, sent! You think I want to be here? Fuck. This. Place. There was an explosion and gunshots and a vial—fuck, I can’t remember! You ask too many questions!

Sorry.

...No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be exploding on people like that. Guess being here for long enough wears you out, huh? Anyways, what were we talking about? My diet? Yeah, it’s something else, that’s for sure. I was always an omnivore, but now? I’m what you see when you look up the word ‘omnivore’. My arms are omnivorous, my legs are, my lungs are.

I’m pretty sure the air here doesn’t contain oxygen, though I have no way of checking. Even if there is, I’m not sure I even need it. I didn’t ever think carbon dioxide would be part of the à la carte menu for staying alive, but I’m not complaining. It makes it so I don’t have to eat as much.

Carnivore?

What? I’ve been telling you this whole time I’m an omnivore… Look, if you find me a salad around here, I’ll eat it and prove it to you! Cut me some slack.

I used to be lactose intolerant, you know that? I used to shit out a brick every time I ate a slice of white bread. But my diet must be religious now, because it’s all embracing—anything goes.

...I tried to justify killing you. I told myself that you were just like all the other things in this terrible place, even though I knew it wasn’t true. I mean, I grew to like it here. It was just me and those things and the voices and the fear—anyways, what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I could have left you alive, and then you wouldn’t have to be there.

There?

There; in my head. That’s where you are right? My head? You’re just like all the other voices, accept yours is tangible. I can hear it, because I ate you. That’s how it works. Those other voices; they can’t talk. Not like you.

Why?

Why? Why what? Why did I eat you? Because I was hungry and you were different. It seemed like a good enough excuse at the time. Why can you talk? I don’t know.

But enough of that. I’ve been talking to you this whole time and I don’t even know your name. I—

Luna.

...That’s a beautiful name.

I’m making you blush? Save your blushing for someone else—I’m not attracted to the remnant memories of magical horses I’ve murdered. I’m not being rude, I’m being honest! You’re just a memory, and even if you weren’t, I still wouldn’t have been attracted to you. ...In your dreams, Luna, in your dreams.

Yours?

My… my name? My name. It’s… Alex. Alex Mercer. It’s a pleasure to meet you? Sorry for the bad first impression? Fuck, I’m not good at this meeting and greeting shit, never was. Yeah, laugh it up, why don’t you? Glad my social anxiety is the unwilling butt of your humor.

Apology accepted.

...Thanks, I guess? I was being sincere, I genuinely regret my actions.

Author's Note

Please comment if you notice any errors.

This is an experimental project, expect mistakes.