Death Surrounds Me

A deep warbling permeated the air around me. Bristles of blue and purple knife-like appendages swam across my tiny equine form. The sounds of a violin could be heard from an unknown location along with that horrid warbling, like a record being mangled. I got out of bed but nobody could've known, no noise was made by my escape. Whether that was because of the warbling or my own skills in stealth remain unknown. My hoofs were met with small plinking noises not unlike that of a xylophone as I walked down the stairs.

My descent down the stairs revealed two statues that looked like ponies. Their skin was hard, tan clay. Empty caverns where their eyes and mouths should be. The horrible warbling sprouted from their mouths as they seemingly sought to destroy the other with sound alone. In the darkness, the two clay husks were all that could be seen. Even as their songs began to sound as if they were punching each other, which they clearly were not. They were like a record skipping for but a moment before continuing to skip again.

I walked further down the stairs and left the building in hopes of finding that violinist. A static array, the sounds of explosions, with the undertone of that violin was all I could hear. As if out of nowhere, the violin became clearer and the explosions stopped happening so frequently. They were replaced with gunfire, I was not afraid though, I just needed to find that violin. A building splintered apart to my left, the wooden debris splintered around me. I wish I could say I was alone.

Clay pony husks wandered the landscape, their voices replaced with music from an aging record player. No matter how close or far I was, the sound played as if spoken directly to me. Static, skipping records, the violin, nobody seemed interested in me though, thankfully. On brief occasion, the sounds would stop for but a second before continuing on again as if nothing happened. I wandered town with them to find out where they were going, thinking that maybe they could lead me to the violin.

Around forty clay pony husks and I gathered in front of a grand temple that shot into the sky where a decrepit, decaying clay pony stood. Mold and rot hung from its clay form, signifying its age. It stared at me for a second in confusion as I approached the stage it stood on.

The rotting clay husk spoke loudest, The record it spoke with would break and skip constantly, breaking into an angelic cry, back to music, then warbling static in a seemingly neverending cycle. I'm not sure which one I preferred, the moments of absolute silence, or the drolling of warbling record static. I kept my head low in contemplation, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Even looking upon myself, I only got more questions. Despite my confusion, the violin played on. Its beauteous melody luring me in with the express intent of murdering me violently.

A horrid wilting sound descended upon the town. The sounds of bodies, buildings, life, decaying and rotting. The putrid sound of eyeballs popping out of skulls as the last screams of the tortured shouted out in the same thundering warbling record static. The violin played on regardless, the violin would not budge. It would play even if there was nobody left alive to hear it.

The rotting clay husk on stage had appeared as if by magic beside me. It looked at me with it's abysses for eyes and screeched out noises that could only be described as flesh being torn asunder. It looked at me with such anger, such hatred, as if I had done this husk personally a great wrong. Not knowing what else to do, I ran from the husk as it began to hiss at me. I ran nowhere, to nothing, and most importantly, on nothing. The ground had all but disappeared, rarely, small tufts of black nothingness would appear and let me know that grass was at one point here. Those tufts blurred, and some faded from existence.

The cracking of bones filled my ears as I ran outside a barely existent fence. Nobody was over here, but the records could still be heard, still skipping and breaking as they played. I was safe here, they wouldn't follow me so far away. The violin was clearer for about a minute as I approached a building, I even got to hear the sound of my hooves on the dirt path for once. When I got closer, the violin cut out completely. Even the records were gone, the only thing here now was this new noise. The wind whistling a grim tune as an invisible fire burned all in its wake. The crackling of a campfire raged on and on throughout. Despite the lack of actual campfires or invisible fires or even the sun, I was pleasantly warm.

I walked inside the building to find two tall clay ponies, a clay pony around the same height as me, and a fourth pony rocking back and forth in mid-air. She was rotting, somewhat similar to the one on stage, but not nearly as bad. No sound accompanied anything anymore, beyond the occasional, brief and quiet sound of a dead star passing by. The only pony husk that acknowledged my existence was the one floating in mid-air, I assumed she likely had some sixth sense that the other did not. I walked over to her silently under a table.

The floating clay husk moaned at me and strangely enough, I realized I preferred noise to the chilling silence that surrounded us. The two regular clay ponies and the small one floated in mid-air in an attempt to mimic their clear superior. They gestured their hooves to cover the abyss where their mouths should be repeatedly and in unison.

"Hey, I-I don't suppose you've seen a sentient violin around here, have you?" I asked the slightly rotting husk who started the floating trend.

The silence was my only response from the husk. I shook nothingness and got the husk to rock back and forth again, attempting to get something out of her. Then, I started to hum the violin's tune, in an effort to jog her memory. I understand when one has trouble remembering, I've been having that trouble myself a lot lately. Suddenly, like a blink, I was gone.

The husks were missing, and I was lost. Nothing surrounded me but crying, I wanted to get out, to find them, maybe to help. But I couldn't, I can't do much of anything anymore, I can't leave, I can't even move my own front hooves anymore, I can't stop hugging myself. My front hooves are just stuck like glue in a warm embrace around my torso.

Finally, after a hard day of searching for violins, listening to records, and looking at clay husks, silence reigned supreme. I couldn't hear anything, I couldn't see anything, and the only thing I could feel was my own two hooves hugging myself. I didn't know what to do, nor what exactly I could do. I felt good though at least.