Keep drawing.
My forced hoof swayed over the canvas. A little drop of orange. A little bit of red. Accent it. All of my instincts unfavorably came out, expressed on my current painting. Dread filled my mind instead of pride. It consumed me, and I was its prisoner. I was also a prisoner to the wretched beast that lived inside me.
You understand the cost, no?
“Beast, I dont owe an answer to you.”
Oh, so I’m the foolish one? Was I the one that sniveled and cried to be something?
I seethed as my paintbrush dipped itself into the red once again. “I made a mistake.”
And one you cant recant. I, for one, feel as though you made the right choice.
The cold voice would not seize, adding upon my dread. I tried to fight it off ever since I guided it into my life.
That walk in the gardens would change both of our lives, no?
I seethed as I washed my brush in water, then dabbed it with black. I simply needed to start the outline. I traced a circle, a tight one. Then my brush found itself blue, and oceans appeared within the blank circle my hoof made.
“You know full well you only control my body. My mind will never be taken. I will break the curse you have set on me. This I swear.”
The cold voice only cackled. The curse you set on yourself, young stallion. If I recall, your feeble thirst for power asked a forbidden gift. One I could grant, yes, but one you should never have trifled with.
“Your gracious warnings eluded me.”
The voice seemed to gasp. What a shame! I simply felt no obligation to tell you, my dear sport. My mind was tuned to its consequences.
My brush now turned an earthy, sickly green. Equestria was now dotted within the globe, and my hoof carefully painted in Zebrica and the other continents. It was completed.
Quiet now? Realize what youve did wrong?
“I did nothing wrong except dream.”
And where do dreams go to, my dear colt? They float to the sun to be burned, to be destroyed. Hold up a piece of the glass to the sun, and you’ll see all the spots and cracks it bears. Perhaps I’m your dear sun, my boy. And when you asked to make drawings a reality...you got burned.
My body shook with resentment, but my hoof remained steady. It would not move. It never did.
“You took advantage.”
Well, of course I did. The opportunity presented itself to me. I’m proud of the way I took action, personally. I wiggled my way inside your body pumpkin. It’s not even yours anymore. It belongs to me.
“You wish for everything to perfectly line up into a perfect line of dominoes. You play your cards right, and then boom, you’ve completed your goal.”
Intellectuals are what make this world turn.
“Art isn’t something you can simply create. It’s something you believe in. My life was devoted to it. It controlled my life, beast. I know the most about creating an outline to fill it in, planning to execute a simple shape.”
What’s your point Sparky? We don’t have all day.
“It works almost all the time. But it’s never worth it. You expect something to happen, in a straight line, a conservative order. You draw the perfect bush. The perfect tree. The perfect end.”
Heh, your philosophy is on the mark, my friend. Trying to deter me from enacting this plan?
I would have shrugged if I was able to. My body finally quit its fight.
“Not at all. I know these next hours are my last. All I’m saying is to question yourself. I know I am.”
Yes, that must be dandy. Your 23-year life must have been so eventful and bored so many interesting events and perceptions. I was here in the beginning. I was the fruit Earth itself bore. I remained in slumber for millennia. Then I ruled for another couple hundred. After that, I was banished as a garden gnome. I’m sure you’re aware of my current situation. Fate isn’t an illusion. I’m sure my strings were being pulled my entire life. There never is true chaos. I learned that during my slumber.
“True chaos. Something you must have wished for?” I drew a crater in my perfect circle, and I began to paint the bringer of ends.
“You’re weaker than I thought. The world would have ended to one that has given up.”
The cold voice chuckled, intent on deflecting the statement. Given up? You have given up. Your body is mine, despite your continuously flapping brain.
“I’m not idiotic. I understand that I face a brick wall. I have nowhere to turn. But you had limitless potential. All ending cause of an impatient desire?”
I know when to fold them. I think an end in blazing glory better suited for me at this point.
“What glory? Nopony knows except for me. Your image will burn. Nopony would think of you as they die. Because you matter none. This painting is the only thing you would be known for. Sad, isn’t it?”
…
The asteroid was now fully completed. The cracks, the details. It was all finished. I was alone now, as my apartment was truly filled with emptiness. It’s strange. The moments before the end of the world were quieter than its actual end.
Your a feisty one, I’ll give you that. You artists are colorful ponies, pun intended. To answer your question, I guess I have quit at being different.
“You admit it then?”
Fate is real, my stallion. I’ve been controlled all my life. It’s taken too long to realize that. I’ve had my run, I had my beliefs. To think I was once a god...well. If I’m truly a sun, this is my supernova. A big burst, then nothing. I fade out quickly. I wish this wasn’t true, but chaos is a figment of orders expanding definition. It derives from order. Everything I did was with a purpose, was with a reason. Nothing escapes those strings. Nothing lives from its grasp. I realize now I was destined to die silently, with only you as company. One last smart, devious plan to fulfill myself. It never really filled me though. I die with a false sense of completion. You’ll soon agree, that beneath the flashy colors, it’s all...gray.
We sat there in silence for an hour. The painting imprinted itself on my shallow eyes. It was a masterpiece. My perfect send-off. My perfect…
P. Folio was now written at the bottom of the canvas.
Here we go, Sparky.
I saw it. Hawk, I saw it! It shone with a yellow hue. Its holy aura shook me, and my body could move. The voice was no more.
It entered slowly. And I could hear the screams. The shouts and the yelling. I heard the old yell about sleeping. I hear the padding on the ruined sidewalk. The moon offered no protection as Armageddon entered. Laughter filled the air as well, swelling into the cracks of the world. My laughter rang out through the air as my tears rapidly pounded the floor. I fell on my back, invaded by pure hysteria. I couldn’t hold it in. He was right.
This was final. This was fate. My promise, my wish. Everything. My own hoof felt disproportioned with the weight it held. I quickly cut it off with much deliberation. The end was near. It was mere seconds. It was so beautiful. It was final. It was everything I yearned for. I did it. We did it. I completed my masterpiece.
Since I was a colt, I dreamed of bringing the world to my painting. Making them glance my way, to see me and recognize me. To know I did something. This was it.
The colors. The sounds. It screamed. It yelled. It was everything. Bring it! Bring its finality! And when it absorbed the air, the ideals, my soul, my being, my memories, my thoughts, my eyes, my understandings, my everything, I saw what life truly was. I, the harbinger of death, saw what true life and fate looked like. And it was…
Gray.
Author's Note
https://youtu.be/4PsSedseX48
