Hate is such an interesting thing. It's one of the most basic of emotions; we all learn to hate when we're young. When our parents don't give us what we want, when someone steals our favorite toy, when the bad guy on tv defeats the heroes. And that capacity to hate only grows stronger as we get older; we hate so much more deeply, the bitter emotion worming its way into us like the roots of a tree. As children we get over our hatred very quickly; it passes just as quickly as most childish thoughts. But as an adult, as an adult it sticks. It is a seed planted deep within our hearts, taking root and growing, growing until it produces a beautiful, poisonous fruit of pure rage.
What would it be like, to harness the hatred and anger of humanity? To feed off of those all too common emotions. That is what I aimed to discover.
My experiment was ready to go; all I needed was the catalyst. It was easy to find one, and it was laid across my shoulder, still as could be, as I made my way through the forest. All was still: no creaks from the trees, no chittering of woodland creatures, not even the sound of the wind. The darkness was all encompassing, closing in around me like a cloak that shielded me from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. Some would find the forest at this time to be quite sinister; I found it somewhat charming. It was like a painting, one that depicted a dark path through a menacing wood. What would it represent, because surely all art has meaning? Perhaps it symbolizes a precipice, a moment when the path forward seems wild and unclear, yet the traveler still forges ahead. I quite liked that.
The trees suddenly pulled apart, widening into a small clearing. The full moon shone through a gap in the leaves overhead, the rays of light creating an enchanting effect in the very middle of the clearing. It was like something out of a fairytale, and I half expected Queen Mab and her court to arrive and dance in the divine and mystifying manner of the Aos Si. Perhaps it was I who was destined to dance in that moonlight, the soft beams caressing me in congratulations for achieving my goals.
The catalyst was placed under the moonlight, her teal skin beautifully illuminated. She was perhaps not the best choice, not even the best in Canterlot, but she would more than do. She had more than enough hate for the seed to take root.
Reaching into my breastpocket, I produced a golden sphere. It was an heirloom that had been passed down in my family for generations, a container of sorts. The decoration was simply stunning: upon the gold had been carved multiple figures, their faces contorted in a variety of emotions that ranged from fear to rage to envy, all reaching towards a single thing. An apple.
Opening this sphere revealed an interior made of velvet, and upon the velvet, a simple seed. Or so it appeared, for as soon as one looked upon this seed they felt something, a peculiar feeling. A darkness, a sinister presence, a malevolent force that descended over the mind and cast a weight upon the consciousness. It was as though the seed was sentient and wished to bend those around it to its insidious will.
It needn't try and tempt me.
The process was, theoretically, simple. At least, I hoped it would be: my research had consisted solely of those who speculated about the seed, as none had ever given in to its dark temptations. Until now, of course. But I digress; the process was supposedly simple. All I had to do was place the seed above the catalyst's heart, and the seed, according to its nature, would do the rest.
I placed the seed over her heart, and watched in wonder as it burrowed its way under her clothes and skin, disappearing from my sight. Unfortunately, this process also awakened the catalyst, whose eyes snapped open and began to rapidly scan the area.
"W-where am I?" she asked, her voice coming out shrill with terror. She was very clearly panicking: her eyes had dilated, sweat was glistening on her body, and she was hyperventilating. Yet, interestingly, she did not attempt to get up and run, nor did she move at all.
"W-Why c-can't I move?" She appeared to be struggling, but her body did not budge.
"Interesting," I said, walking around her and casting an observational eye. After all, I would need to take down notes later. "The seed seems to paralyze its prey. I suppose that makes the process much easier."
"P-process. What a-are you talking about? W-What's going on?" Tears were streaming out of her eyes now. Was that a reaction borne of fear or an effect of the seed.
"Tell me, Lightning Dust, do you hate Sunset Shimmer?"
The question seemed to take her aback, but she quickly responded. "Yeah, I hate the bitch, but what do-AHHHH!"
She was cut off as a sprout erupted from her body. What an interesting organism it was! It was formed like a spire, a twisted one, made out of grey, ashy bark. As I looked closer, I realized that the roots were combining with her circulatory system!
"How incredible!" I exclaimed, so excited by this discovery that I could not help but voice it aloud. "Hate must germinate the seed, and then it feeds off the prey's blood supply to fuel its growth."
"W-what are you t-talking about...." her voice had become weak now, trailing off towards the end to barely more than a whisper. With the sprout quickly consuming her blood supply, it was unlikely she would last much longer.
"Oh, Ms. Lightning Dust, it's quite simple you see. You hate Sunset Shimmer. This seed, it germinates in the flames of hatred, gathering its strength from the darkest parts of the human psyche. It will also devour you as a side effect, but I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. You won't even be able to feel it soon! And if in your final moments you need comfort, relish in this fact: your sacrifice is going towards something much, much bigger!"
She was nearly gone by this point. The sprout had grown into quite the young sapling, an odd, contradictory looking thing that simultaneously seemed both weak and strong. As the tree grew, the catalyst had slowly lost her color, and at this point was nearly gray. Her eyes were dull and unfocused, her lips parted slightly, air just barely passing through them as she took her final weak breaths.
"Y-you're insane...."she breathed as the tree stole the last of her essence. Lightning Dust was no more; in her wake was the poison tree of hatred. And upon that tree, small but supple, was a shining apple. As I plucked it from the tree, a poem came to mind.
"Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
When Eternals spurn'd back his religion;
And gave him a place in the north,
Obscure. shadowy. void. solitary.
Eternals I hear your call gladly,
Dictate swift winged words. & fear not
To unfold your dark visions of torment."
Author's Note
A precursor to a longer piece. How will friendships fare against hate?
