Lost Words and Unfinished Thoughts

by Oliver Hellfire

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Death, Narcotics, Sad, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Suicide / Self Harm, Tragedy, Profanity
Length: 6364

An author struggles with his mental health, disassociating from reality by thinking of universes and stories beyond his writing capabilities.

Weather it's crippling depression, or untempered ambition, I'm always running from my own mind. A prison that is me. These are my words and ideas, free for you to build on, acknowledge, or just ignore. Nevertheless I hope they find you well.

Published 2021-05-04 08:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-06-04 18:29:47 UTC

Twas Midday...

It was a soggy, gloomy afternoon with a darker, wetter evening coming soon. I sat in a cafe, in an attempt to avoid the day and fuel my need for interaction by listening to the cacophonous roar of boystrus conversations within this rotting symbol of post modernist pride. It was another bitter year full of self isolation and indirect cries for help. These days I never spoke more than necessary, and the only interaction I had with ponies was listening to their conversations. I noticed someone staring, but it wasn't a rude stare, but a calculating, thoughtful, gaze from a pony as curious as a ponderous scientist focused on the next interesting experiment. It was almost malicious in that sense, but nonetheless interesting. What would this pony do? What would they say? How do I avoid it? I let out a death row sigh as if awaiting execution as the figure slunk through the crowd, slick as a shadow, purposeful and deliberate until they stared at me with those big, curious eyes and spoke in a tone I nearly despised.

"Is this seat taken?"

Sleep...

I stood in the corridor of a quaint little house. All was quiet besides the sound of the house creaking in the wind. I couldn’t make out any of the ponies in the pictures that lined the wall, nor any of the newspapers that seemed to cover one wall at the end of the hall, but there was a body that lay in front of them, and it stirred ever so slightly. The mare was young, but something about her made me uneasy. I began to hear a cacophony of noise as whispers filled my head, saying their apologies. Crying, screaming, and broken laughter began to overwhelm my senses before a bright light tore me from that reality.

*

I sat bolt upright in bed, a cold sweat covering me like a sheet of ice. My comforter lay on the ground, having been kicked off of me at some point and when I glanced at the window, the sun just barely peeked over the horizon. I let out a sigh as I rubbed my eyes.

“A hot shower sounds nice,” I said aloud.

Author's Note

Continue?

(Y,N)

Fallout Equestria: Yukon Ho!

I slowly opened my eyes to the clouds above, watching as a raptor, Brimstone was its name, had begun to fall from the sky as it was enveloped in fire. My side burned and my head ached, but I couldn't remember how I had landed here. A clearing in the middle of the woods. When I looked down, I saw that my battle saddle was destroyed and both of my dragon killer guns were destroyed. I went to spread my wings and cried out as I got my right wing out from under me. It was broken, but it was there, its feathers shaking in front of me as I trembled. I tried to move my left, but it wouldn’t move and I grew nauseous from the pain. When I looked back down, I saw that my wing was gone. I wanted to cry, but I heard voices from underneath the ocean of deafness. I tried to roll over and only succeeded in discovering that I had a broken back. I couldn’t let that stop me, I still had to find Zapper. I forced myself to roll over, choking on air as my back gave a sickening pop...

Author's Note

Continue?

(Y,N)

FoE: Vanhoover (DRAFT)

You’re listening to Equestria News Radio and I’m your host, DJ Pon3! First off, I’d like to wish my fellow wastelanders happy holidays with DA DADA DA, SOME NEWS! Looks like the Steel Rangers and the slavers are at it again, but this time, they’re hashin it out downtown for the old Bucklyn Bridge! You rangers better punt those suckers outta Manehattan before they enslave you fillies and colts. Things are gettin’ crazy down here, so steer clear if you don’t want to be destroyed! There’s also been reports of heavy feral ghoul activity to the south, near Red Racer Factory! It’s gonna get real cold tonight kids, so bundle up. THANKS FOR LISTENIN, THIS IS DJ PON3 GIVIN YOU THE NEWS, no matter how bad it hurts! Now, this is Let It Snow, a lil’ number from Sweetie Bell to get ya’ll in the holiday spirit!

*

The music sang from the pipbuck as I positioned myself in an office with a hole blown in the wall, facing the Bucklyn Bridge. I shook as the wind blew in and jumped when I heard a thud. I turned to look at the pink mare, who lay on her back, having fallen while trying to reach a footlocker that had been hidden atop a remaining ceiling tile.

“Hehe, sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“You need to be more careful Ruby, you could really hurt yourself,” I said, helping her up as she retrieved her half framed sunglasses.

“Re-lax Queen, I’m a professional,” she said with a giggle.

I sighed at the nickname.

“Why don’t you just use your magic?”

She blushed, putting on her sunglasses as she stammered weakly.

“Well-I-It’s….Could you get it for me.”

“Ok,” I said with a self satisfied smirk.

I set the footlocker on the floor and watched her set upon the box with a squee. I giggled and shook my head before lying on my belly, positioned behind my high powered anti machine rifle. The thermal scope helped me pick out the targets easily, but my concentration was broken by an especially excited squee.

“AW YEAH, WE GOT FANCY BUCK CAKES!”

I looked back at my friend, who looked at me before jamming a cake in her mouth.

“Showwy.”
I turned back to the weapon, hearing Ruby scramble over, picking up the pair of binoculars that I had laid out for her. She’d begun marking targets in buildings above the battle, in buildings, while I marked targets on the bridge, by the time she had finished chewing, we’d finished marking targets to pick off to help the final push and she’d begun ravenously attacking another cake.

“How are you still so thin,” I asked her.

She gulped down the second cake before firing a retort.

“Why is your accent so sexy,” she asked with a cheeky grin.

I shook my head and sighed, standing and walking to the ham radio that had been set up on the old desk. It clicked on and I tuned it to the frequency that I had been told to before speaking into the microphone.

“This is Scribe Carte Blanche, is there anyone on this channel, over.”

“This is Paladin Ironside, you’re clear to engage, Scribe. Happy hunting, over and out.”

I made my way back, looking down range. My first target was a sniper on an old fire escape. His head popped like a balloon as Ruby marked another target, this one in salvaged power armor.

CLICK CLICK

With another round chambered, I took aim and fired, blasting a fairly large hole in the side of the armor, killing whoever was inside.

“There’s one with a Fat Mare on the roof of that apartment,” Ruby said with a hint of amazement in her voice.

CLICK CLICK

BOOM

The mare’s body flopped down to the street below, a hole blown in her chest as I sighted another target with an anti machine rifle. I was about to fire when shots landed right beside me.

“Shit, take cover,” Ruby screamed, hauling me back behind the desk and drawing a silenced submachine gun from a flank holster.

“Celestia damn raiders,” she said, pulling a detonator from her saddlebag on the desk.

Hoof falls caused Ruby’s ears to perk before she activated the detonator’s first switch with a devilish grin.

BOOOM!!

HOLY SHIT!!!

Screams sounded from the blown apart floor below and I crawled to the rifle, taking aim at the slavers again as Ruby charged out of the room.

BOOM

RATATATAT

“AW, DON’T RUN, I JUST WANT TO MAKE THE WASTELAND A BETTER PLACE,” Ruby screamed from the hallway.

I then noticed that the Steel Rangers had advanced to the entrance to the bridge, but were pinned down by a firing line set up at the walls of the base. I aimed for the biggest guns first, killing their owners in rapid succession until it was mostly clear and I was out of ammunition.

Ruby staggered back into the room, panting heavily as she sat down. I cocked my head sideways at her, doing my best to show my confusion as I finished packing up the rifle.

“Only two got away,” she said with a chuckle.

“Ok, get your saddlebag, we need to go.”

She grabbed her bags and I helped her with the straps before following her through the rows of cubicles to the emergency staircase, nearly tripping down the stairs before we burst out into a back alley. We ran toward the rear of the building, but a raider with a rusted shotgun popped out, blocking our path.

“DIE!”

BOOM!

I drew Ruby’s SMG and placed four rounds into his chest, dropping the weapon to tend to my best friend, who cried out in pain as I put pressure on the wound and rifled through my bag, pulling out a shattered healing potion from my bag, throwing it as I became frantic. I opted to use combat gauze and a pressure wrap before lifting her in my telekinesis.

“Queen, I don’t feel so hot,” she said with tears threatening to fall.

“Don’t die, I owe you some new sunglasses,” I replied, trying to hide my fear as I nodded to the crushed pair on the ground.

She wouldn’t stop bleeding and I heard more raiders coming, whooping and hollering. I narrowly avoided being shot as I ran, carrying her through the wrecked streets, ignoring the mental strain as I galloped. A round hit my flank and I staggered, tumbling into the open maw of a subway station, losing my telekinetic grasp on Ruby as I fell down the stairs. My head spun and my ears rang. I got up and staggered back, crying out as I picked up Ruby, dragging her into the subway station after me. I set her down and shot a raider coming down the stairs with the SMG before noticing a sign for the security office. I dragged her into the dingy office, closing and locking the door behind me.

I looked around, seeing papers littering the floor, a few desks, a yellow medical box, and a blown open door with a few holding cells. I levitated over the medical box and sat her up against me as I sat on my haunches and rifled through the medical box, relieved to find a healing potion. I looked at her and saw that she was pale and barely conscious if at all. I shook her a little, but she was still far too faint to drink, so I pulled an empty syringe and surgical tubing from my saddlebag and rigged up a makeshift IV. I used old seat cushions to elevate her legs and held the healing potion up, watching as the wound slowly began to close.

I knew that she was still gonna need blood and rest, but this would buy me plenty of time to scavenge what I needed.

BANG BANG BANG

A raider pounded at the door, manically laughing as he shouted, “I’M GONNA SKIN YOU RIPE CUNTS AFTER MY BOYS AND I HAVE SOME FUN WITH YOU HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

I gently moved Ruby behind the reception desk, holding the SMG at the ready.

“Good luck getting in you bellend, I’ve locked the door and called for reinforcements,” I shouted back.

He growled, “RRRRRRRRR NO NO NO NO, YOU DID NOT! YOU CAN’T PLAY ME YOU STUPID CUNT! I WILL GET IN THERE, OR YOU WILL COME OUT, AND WHEN I GET AHOLD OF YOU HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I’M PFFFHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I’M GONNA RAPE YOU WHILE I CUT YOU AND THAT MAREFRIEND OF YOURS INTO TINY PIECES HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

I shivered at the thought, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. I checked the magazine and my heart shattered at the empty magazine. There was one bullet in the chamber. I wouldn’t let them touch Ruby. It’d be painful, but if it came to it, I would gladly suffer before she did. I lay the weapon on the counter, lying down beside my best friend. I hoped that she was having a good dream as I lay there beside her.

*

I cried, curled up in a gray corner of the dull bunker’s barracks. No one cared to acknowledge me as I whaled. Star Paladin Steel Hooves walked away after telling me about my parents. They were killed in a shootout against a gang of slavers.

“I hate you,” was the last thing I’d said to my father before he left. He was nothing but kind to me and I had said something so heartless to him. I never wished my mother a happy birthday. Now I was all alone.

“H-hey, are y-you o...ok,” a filly stammered beside me.

I could only cry as I turned to look at the little pink filly with a messy orange mane. A look of terror entered her eyes and she quickly looked away, but stood somewhat firmly.

“W-would- would you c-come with m-me,” she asked hopefully.

I couldn’t stop crying, but I slowly stood, following her out into the halls and into an uncovered vent. We crawled for what seemed like forever before reaching another missing vent cover that led outside. We stood in a cave and I was led to the open maw, which overlooked a fair amount of Equestria from the cliffside cave. I had stopped crying as I stared out at the vast world, from a blackened city in front of me to the little lights of civilization scattered about the dark landscape.

“Whenever...I l-like to c-come here w-when I’m sad. I l-like to think ab-about if the...if the w-wasteland was p-peaceful,” she stuttered.

I began to tear up again, but she pulled me into a hug.

“It wi-we could….we c-can all make it g-good if we t-try,” she said, pulling me close.

“If w-we work hard, no one w-will h-have to s-suffer any...anymore,” she said.

*

I had fallen asleep. Celestia, that was the worst meeting I ever had with anypony, but it didn’t change the fact that we were best friends. I turned my head, letting out a sigh as I noticed some of her color had come back. The healing potion had completely drained into her, so I removed the needle from her foreleg, setting the set up on the counter as I got to my hooves. I had to figure out an escape before we ran out of supplies, but it was still gonna be a bit too risky to move Ruby, she had lost far too much blood, and I didn’t have the ammunition to war with the group of raiders.

Candy Corn

There’s a strange beauty about Barley park. It’s an abandoned neighborhood built in the late 19th and early 20th century. A once grand symbol of wealth and prosperity now a symbol of failure. Terrible things happen here. Many folks avoid this place, but I didn’t and I never once regretted it. I like to use this old mansion as a sort of hideout when things get bad at home. It’s a french revival style house with a castle-like spire on the corner with a marble entryway just on the opposite side of the house, offsetting the red bricks and black roof shingles. The house has been abandoned since 1973 if the old newspapers are any indication.

Home was a bad place to be when your dad's a cop who does nothing but drink when he's not working...

“HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO ME AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE SACRIFICED TO KEEP THIS HOUSEHOLD AFLOAT!”

That voice seemed distant as I lay on the floor, the taste of blood churning my stomach as it filled my mouth. What happened? I couldn’t remember. My head hurt so bad that I couldn’t cry let alone get up.

“RICHARD PLEASE STOP, HE’S HAD ENOUGH,” my mom screamed, harmonizing with the essence of terror and adding to the harsh cacophony of glass breaking, the tv blasting out something about a baseball strike, and goodness knows how many police cars that roared up the street.

I instinctively curled up as my head began to scream in undeniable agony, tears running down to the floor when I was suddenly grabbed by the collar of my shirt and inharmoniously dragged upstairs, slammed against the door and whipped until I screamed with his belt. I was then thrown into the room, the door locking behind me as it was slammed shut.

“Stupid bitch, you’re just like your mother,” he said.

Receding footsteps let me know that he had left and with that realization, I began to sob uncontrollably, knowing that if he’d heard me cry before he got out of earshot, he’d make it an even longer night. He gets off when I cry.

I curled up in a ball, I was in agony, but before long, I forced myself up, nearly puking from the wave of nausea. I managed to cut my sobbing down to pitiful whimpering as I limped to my desk and grabbed my Walkman from the desktop. I donned my sony headphones and pressed play, the sound of In The Light by Led Zeppelin filling my ears and hurting my head as I gathered up my backpack, a few cassette tapes, and putting on my Converse. I sighed as I realized that I forgot to put my hoodie on and dropped my bag before putting it on. It was an XL even though a small would’ve fit, but I preferred this fit better. I put my bag over my shoulder and went to the window, slowly cracking the seal, and gently nudging it open, wincing at every squeak and minor squeal before sliding out of the dormer window onto the roof with ease. I lay flat, sliding across the wet shingles, receiving a few cuts for my trouble, before reaching the end of the roof and climbing down the roof, to the fence, to the ground, shaking as I finished.

Author's Note

Continue?

(Y,N)

Noir...

I was as cold and lifeless as a corpse these days. It seemed like the only thing that kept me warm was the cheap scotch and cigarettes, but there was something about this case that had me looking at my scotch the way a fire would look at water. I was pulled from my revery by a voice like sandpaper, looking up to see the bartenders cold eyes afixed to mine.

"It's that season again, huh?"

I looked out at the rain, which only seemed to fall harder.

"If it keeps up like this, then certain folks won't have to go to the lake to hide their secrets," I replied dryly, taking a sip of my scotch.

Attack...

Author's Note

https://youtu.be/MVnSFj6XQZY

Attack...

You find yourself in a trench, surrounded by friends...

"Oh stop it with that shit dude, you got a wife," a burrly buck as black as coal said as he roared with laughter.

"Yeah, but she ain't got tits like these," said a young pegasus, his fur as green as leaves in spring.

"Those...are impressive," a blushing young gryphon said, pulling her helmet over her face to hide her blush that tinged her white cheeks a rose colored red.

"You think those Gryphon Empire bastards will ever make a move," I asked.

The black buck looked at me with a winning grin and spoke with a voice as smooth and dark as billowing smoke from a fire that burned within.

"They'd have to be stupid to make a push while we've got four machine guns."

You laugh and brush off your fears, letting yourself relax...

"So Motive, you worked on the railroad before you joined," the gryphon asked, fidgeting a little as a bottle of gin was passed to her by the pegasus, who still gazed at the explicit pictures.

"Yeah, I was a train engineer. I was actually hoping to be an engineer on one of those armored trains in Saddle Arabia, but wound up here in the trenches," he said with a grin.

"How about you ---? What did you do before the war," he asked as I was passed the bottle.

I took a pull off the bottle, ignoring the foul taste and wiping my mouth before speaking.

"Same thing I'm doing now. I was-am a journalist," I stammered, passing the bottle back to Locomotive.

"I was a musician," the pegasus spoke out.

"They used to call me 'E Flat The Great Pianist' before I was drafted," he said with a dry chuckle.

All was well until...

BOOM!

Flat stopped grinning as dirt flew, wood supports splintered, and he was skewered and burried under a section of the trench that colapsed.

"GAS," Motive screamed as he dawned his mask.

I frantically did the same, sealing it and clearing the filter as fast as my shaking talons allowed me.

The white gryphon helped me to my feet, but I fell back down and screamed as pain shot up my leg.

I looked down and saw three pieces of wood the size of pencils sticking out of my left hind leg, straight through the bone.

Motive pressed his shotgun to my chest before hauling me onto his back and galloping to the machine gun position 50 meters away, avoiding ponies galloping to secure the freshly smoking gap in the trench line.

UNFINISHED

Luck...

I stared aimlessly at the wall behind the television set, a feeling of vacancy overcoming emotions that I was trying so hard to ignore. The room I sat in had begun to chill to a mild discomfort due to a badly sealing sliding glass window. The cold air from outside rushed in, meeting a worthy adversary in the form of the hot air wafting from the fireplace. It would be hot soon, but I didn't notice as I continued to sit there, feeling sorry for myself.

I had found someone to talk to after such a long time, but because of her complicated living situation, she was barred from seeing me again after we had expressed feelings for one another that neither had felt before. Part of me wanted to give up, while another pondered the why of it, but all I could do was disassociate, disconnecting myself from my ever fracturing mind and floating off into the nothingness that comes from ignoring your thoughts and emotions. I was adrift in a sea of nothing and a catalyst for further suffering, but I found myself unable to care as the fire crackled, the wind howled, my mind split, and I became nothing...

Anticipation...

CRACKLE BOOM!

Clouds corrupted the blue sky, as the brewing storm sent out it's malicious call across the plains, accompanied by a cool gust of wind that caused the wheat fields around the lone fuel station to dance and sway to a song that I couldn't comprehend, while a song played through ancient speakers.

"Nebraska, by Hoof Springsteen," I said.

"That's right," a voice like a squeaky door said.

I looked over from my old Dodge and saw an old buck standing in the door of the fuel station.

"By the looks of that motor, I guess you'll be needing high test?"

"Yes sir," I replied, stepping back as he approached the old pump.

Nightmare...

The music spilled forth, crackling from old speakers, coating the room with the light of a fire that warmed the small hut. A table sat in the middle of the room with a figure beside it, organizing a collection of surgical tools on an old vanity table.

In the shadow of the valley
I would like to settle down
Wide open space

THUMP

Wind on my face
A distant horizon

"It's best if you quit struggling, sugar cube," the figure spoke as a pony atop the table began to writhe in her bonds.

Shadows danced along the walls as the figure turned to stare her captor in the eye.

"PLEESH LEH E OH," the bound mare begged, her eyes shimmering in the fire's orange glow.

"It's far too late for that now. I have to begin, or else he'll kill us both."

The figure gripped a scalpel as tears filled her eyes. Her captor shook like a leaf as she was wracked by her sobs. Then the scalpel made contact and a line was formed, dark crimson chasing the slow, methodical incision.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

In the shadow of the valley
That I love best

SLICE
by O.H.

Nightmare PT.2

“How's that theory working out for you Lyra,” Nickel shot as the mare approached the crime scene.

The body hung, forelegs outstretched and pinned with ten penny nails, from the overhang of the housing projects. Her organs had been carelessly crushed and written on the wall below, in blood, were the words, Hello, Detective Heartstrings.

Lyra turned and puked in the dirt beside the brick pathway.

“Well at least for you, I can't talk shit either, because whatever theory I had is in the shitter too,” Nickel shouted.

“Did the victim at least have the blood disease,” Lyra managed to ask shakily.

“No, she did not, so we're back to square fucking one,” he yelled.

Author's Note

This is older than Nightmare, but I thought it could work like this.

Random

Injuries intrigue me. Now this was the thought that started my thinking as I sat in this boring AA meeting. I had already shared a well crafted and utterly bullshit story about my problems, not exactly helping me, but freeing me from reality as thought overtook me, allowing me to ignore the large, mop furred yak that bawled beside me.

But, I thought about it. Another project that might not get finished, but interesting nonetheless. In a post apocalyptic setting, could somepony survive hypovolemic circulatory shock? Maybe? I then thought about a gun shot wound to the leg, severing an artery, and creating this deadly cycle of increased blood pressure, but before I could finish that thought, another one arose as I found myself standing in an alley, coughing as I took too big of a drag off of a cigarette I hadn't realized that I had been smoking.

I forgot what I was thinking as I was dropped back into my worries and my reality. I sighed before returning to my cigarette, inhaling deep and feeling my brain float and cloud up.

Anxiety...

Very few things in this life are permanent and none of them are pleasant.

I lit another cigarette as I sat in the hospital waiting room, the glow of the lighter providing a bit of light in the empty darkness. It was the evening and with nurses on strike, all was quiet. The cigarette hung in my beak, allowing smoke to burn up my nose before I inhaled, nearly coughing as the smoke choked me with a small pleasure that I couldn't seem to live without.

The doctor had told me that there was nothing anyone could have done and I believed him, but still I sat here into the night. Maybe she did bring this upon herself by running away, but she was probably just doing the same thing that I do daily by working endlessly, not daring to let my mind rest, lest my mind stings me with bitter truths and demons from my past. I wanted to blame her, but I also wanted to blame Danny. If he didn't swallow the barrel of that shotgun, none of this would've happened. I coughed at that thought, accidentally inhaling the smoke I'd held in my mouth for the bitter taste. I ashed my cigarette into the small tray I had taken from the nurses station before taking another drag off of my cigarette. Why was I so caught up in this? She hated my guts anyway, and yet here I was, dwelling over it. Then it dawned on me. We're similar, and that could easily end up being me. With that final thought, denial and stress stood up tall and beat me down, using baseball bats made of worry and resentment.

I needed a drink and I sure as hell wasn't gonna get one here, so with that, I grabbed my coat and left.

Silence...

Silence fell, still and suffocating as the wind's hostility ceased and darkness seemed to grow. I lay there, fresh from a dream, unable to move as I fell back into a ten tonne, heavy lidded corpse that was my body. I closed my eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, only to be taunted by its illusive nature. With a sigh, I opened my eyes, tears filling them, much to my confusion. I stared at the ceiling, my mind empty, but buzzing like a party next door that I wasn't invited to. But as I thought of that description, the forefront of my mind roared to life like the printing press of a local paper making copies of distractions from real problems, telling me that I was foolish to describe it as such in such a way. I sighed, pushing away the thoughts. I stretched my wings, invisioning the freedom of open skies that were now closed to me for the unforeseeable future, leaving me stranded in a torture chamber of crowds, and a cacophony of ponies, and the hustle and bustle of a growing community. Suddenly this thought made me a bit sad, although a part of me knew that it was yet another distraction from what was really wrong. Sometimes it felt like there were two people housed in the far too small space within my skull. There was me, but there was also someone else, trying to hide things that would bring me much woe and further dispair, but I knew that it was all me. I always was a creature of habbit, but it was coming to a point where I just couldn't run far, nor fast enough to escape my ever growing demons the way I used to. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, letting a more attainable sleep suck me into its icy depths, praying that another nightmare would be avoided.

It wasn't...

Author's Note

I've been scared to sleep for the past few days, so I wrote this. Wish me luck, I'm goin in.

Kriegsreporter

Author's Note

https://youtu.be/6Xs3V5QjB0k

Kriegsreporter

Black became grey as I wheezed back into a resounding wail of pain from my body as I stared into tear-filled orbs as welcoming and brilliant as an arctic sea of blue, framed by a brilliant, angelic white face, but as she pulled away, the ringing in my ears making me dizzy and unable to hear, the grey returned and as I sat up, the mushroom plume and a hole straight to tartarus greeted me, sending me into a panic. I hyperventilated, unable to breathe as I looked around, seeing countless dead ponies, gryphons, and even zebras littered about the battlefield like broken dolls in cooling, blackening puddles that soaked into the ground. I looked down at my talons and saw the rapidly cooling crimson dripping from them, I could only scream, as tears filled my eyes and smoke filled my lungs.

"Where has compassion gone in this savage world!"

Gryphon Rein, September 9th, 1012 "Das Massaker an der Westlinie"

*

Kriegsreporter

*

An older gryphon sat at a desk in an office that looked more like a library with the countless bookshelves lining the wall with a great number of books from a great many authors. A pony with a movie camera nodded and the gryphon adjusted his notes before he looked up and spoke.

"Hello, I'm Walter Kralle, and those of you who study history might have seen my photos or read a few of my interviews with various soldiers, politicians, or even celebrities, but I feel I must tell a story. This is a story that will haunt me forever and it should be considered a warning for future generations. This is the story, as I remember it, of the great war."

*

Throwback 2018

I looked at my balled fist, holding up two talons as my mind pulled me from the pain.

"V for victory," I said, my comrades staring at me in awe.

Just another day in a war without end…

Following the Equestrian economic crash, Trottingham seceded from the Equestrian Empire. With this turn of events, troops were pulled from the Griffon Republic, who then began to rebuild their military under a facist leader by the name of Cedric Vaughn Grim. The neighboring yak countries began to fear for events to come as their militaries and military strongholds had become relics since the last world war. The Soviet Republic of the Diamond Dogs began to notice this growth, beginning to stock up on supplies, reinforcing their Kremlin as they awaited action. The new leader of Trottingham, Windmill Hill looked on with an evil grin, waiting in anticipation for future events. Along to the west in the Lunar sea, the dragon dynasty prepared to pay back Celestia for her insolence in full. All it took was one invasion and the world was once again at each other's throats. The Griffons and Yak traitors from the facist country of Britily invaded Yakland and Prance while Trottingham sent troops and flyers to defend the Prench line along the same trenches. Celestia and Luna vowed to stay out of the war before the dragons burned Twilight Harbor. Steaming mad, Twilight and Cadence began drafting Equestrian citizens into the armed forces, sending them to sea to provide supplies and weapons to Trottingham and fight with the dragons at sea. Mares began to take up the work at factories while stallions were shipped off, numbers growing each year to fuel a war that would claim millions.

'92 "Trailer"

Take Me Home by Phil Clawins played through the speakers of a Pony boombox that sat beside a strung out zebra with a glass pipe laying beside a limp hoof. The apartment block was a relic from the 60s, brick stained with carbon and its base lined with trash. This building was home to the Z Sect stone business.

*
Celestia's Anti Drug Campaign '84

"This is stone, it's a cheap, and easy to manufacture drug that comes from sparkle. It looks completely harmless, almost like candy, but make no mistake my little ponies, this is a deadly substance that is wreaking havok accross our great nation...

*

SCREECH

A blue police car screamed to a halt in front of the crumbling symbol of postmodern living and out of it came a zebra and a small dragon, the former slamming the door hard enough to splinter the window.

"Glasgow, this isn't a good idea, you know what they'll do to us if-"

"Shut the fuck up Sullivan," the irate zebra shouted at his partner, "That bastard broke his promise, and now he's gonna get what's coming to 'em."

"Glasgow-"

Glasgow drew his weapon in his teeth and pounded on the door, causing Sullivan to draw his weapon.

BANG BANG BANG!

"MANEHATTAN PD, OPEN THE DOOR," Sullivan shouted.

"We payed you off last week, now get the fuck on! You don't want this smoke, pigs," a voice shouted from inside.

Sullivan started at Glasgow, who simply nodded.

*
February 6th, 1092 6:30 PM
Police Radio Recording #55690

"UNIT 14, SHOTS FIRED, OFFICER DOWN! SEND BACKUP!"

I'm sorry to say...

.....it seemed to follow its own carved path, cutting through the center of the tablecloth, ruining its clean, cloud white sheen as it ran off the table and pooled on the floor.

I looked up, a heat like no other making me uncomfortable as I sat atop the silky white cloud. I would've curled up against it and slept, but I was restless and the sun seemed to beam at me with malicious intent. I stood up, stretching and feeling that soothing pull, I straightened and stepped off the cloud. The wind screamed in my ear like a worried parent, before I spread my wings and slowed my decent into a relatively smooth landing on the grassy hills below. The park was serene and oddly quiet today, but I didn't mind it much.

The wind blew, causing the tree branches to sway and the leaves to rub against each other. I smiled as I reached for my shirt pocket, only to find that I had forgotten my cigarettes. The wind suddenly roared as clouds began to gray the sky, looking thick enough for rain. With a brilliant flash many miles away, a boisterous boom echoed over the hills. A few dainty drops fell, no bigger than pen point, but a sign of a storm nevertheless.

As the raindrops began to grow in size, I made my way to a local coffee shop with the intention of waiting out the storm. As I walked, I began to notice something wierd. The raindrops had begun to stain everything it touched and the air was permeated with the smell of iron. The crimson drops began to roll down my body, painting me the color of the crimson landscape. I tried to scream, but suddenly I was pulled with unbridled force, back to reality.

I stared at the bloody tablecloth and my eyes followed the dripping blood to the body of a young mare, bound with tape, hanging from the ceiling, her eyes wide, showing the fear she had felt in her final moments. Her head was still connected, but the murderer had slit her throat so deep that you could see her spine from the throat.

I suddenly felt cold as I backed up and grimly pointed my Kodak camera.

POP