Death Surrounds Me

I looked cute in my little tuxedo, my comically small body fit perfectly the equally humorous dress suit so small a pit bull could wear it. The record never did stop, I know it never will so long as I live -- it's getting worse. What I assume is a trumpet of some sort was playing alongside a piano with the discarded remains of rust and mildew damaging the once beautiful melody into the repeated hammering upon one's brains.

I think I'm twelve... I think... orange clay and blue clay seem to think I'm still pretty young, but that doesn't sound right. The destroyer of worlds was there while I enjoyed my mandated time in the "love yourself" chamber. That was just a joke, by the way, I hated it in there, why bind my arms/hooves, if you're just going to put me in there with who knows how many others who have their arms free. They lock me up in the room with cackling, demonic voices sent from hell itself. Their horrible claws try to pierce me; to draw blood, If I keep running and hopping around the room, they can't reach me.

It kinda makes me feel like I'm on a carousel, a squeaking one that needs to be oiled, but a carousel nonetheless. The only time the screeching arms of demons leave me alone is when the fleshers intervene, or when the record needs to remind me of it's own existence. I don't know exactly what I did to deserve these things, but I'd like to apologize for it, I'd like to make it right. The only problem is that they're not here for an apology, they're here for blood. You'd think my life would be a bit happier considering I live in a cake now.

Soulless clay structures painted gold to disguise themselves from the fleshers watch my every move. They sometimes hide among the crowds, but I can see them, blobs of squelching meat and tight clay structures can't be confused from one another. So far, I think I prefer the fleshers, they give me cake sometimes. The fleshers of pink, blue, and yellow, have been trying to do ... something with me. I'm not really sure what it's for. The yellow one sings like IT needs to be oiled as well, or at least it needs a drink, the poor dear. But it sometimes just sings for a while, I hear it moan to blue, clearly upset about me not doing what he wants me to do when he sings -- does he want me to dance?

The pink flesher is trying to convince me that it's the worst mound of meat, by threatening to chew me up with its horrifying smile. Teeth sharp as knives and bigger than one of my forelegs shine brightly as its piercing blue eyes gaze into my soul. It tries to get around me by jumping and teleporting around me, it's even used sweets and confetti to try and earn my trust, but I am not so easily bought.

Blue is my favorite, it never sings to me, just a few sparse words here and there, and some sweets, that's it, no-nonsense. Maybe she does better is because of the rubber flesh she cares for. You'll forget they exist sometimes, but then you'll hear the wails of the tormented from the bottom floor and remember that they're there. Two similar-looking tubes of pulsating flesh, oozing a sickly white creme where maggots swim, consume, and breed nonstop. While the most disgusting things I've seen in a long while, at least they never talk to me, approach me, or even acknowledge me. Whatever it was I did, I mustn't suffer their wrath.

I'm not sure exactly what any of this is anymore. I haven't seen the sky, the sun, clouds ... nature... Maybe I should apologize to the fleshers and clay ponies, they might let me at least go outside. You can't properly apologize to someone unless you actually know what it is that you did wrong though, maybe I should ask one of them? Or would that just make my punishment worse. I get cake at least, so it's not all bad.

I remembered from my childhood, my dad took me to this old park from when he was a kid, It had this large pond, ducks would swim in. We'd bring bread with us and feed the ducks. He was a blue flesher too, but a different one from the one who gives me sweets.

It was then that I had it, that noise ... my fur stood on end as I hid underneath the bed. He was here, because he definitely was a he, that face could not be seen as feminine in any universe. A trumpet would sound every step the tall creature made as he slid his way into the same room as I. He was a tall man who wore a smile at all times despite his murderous look, his legs and arms were the width of twigs and he wore a black suit.

I did my best to remain hidden in the room, I made no movement, I barely even breathed, as a result, I could hear everything. Every step, everything he moved, even his own heart, I heard everything. My options were limited, would he keep searching until he found me? If I screamed would one of the fleshers or clay ponies come to rescue me? Were they helping this man? I just wanted everyone and everything to go away, so I grabbed the plushie of my mom and hugged it tightly, even as I felt the wooden floorboards give way to hard gravel. He walked, the horrid man, his breath sounding like death itself calling for me.

A gurgle not unlike the one that one would make when their spine gets removed forcefully filled the room and he approached my hiding spot, the charred skin hung to his broiled hands were the first things I saw before it was too late.

The yellow flesher returned and scared the man away, he sang to me and even invited blue to join, I was too scared still to do anything, yellow tried to comfort me by using one of his meat sacks to pat me on the back, but I jumped away and hid under the bed, clutching my toy the entire time. I don't know what I did wrong, I just wanted this to be over, please just end it already, let me go.