Silent Graves

"Four, three, two..."

A short jingle played, and a mare spoke. "And we're back from our commercial break. We would like to once again thank our sponsors. Quills and Sofas; if you need a quill or a sofa, stop on by and we'll set you up right. We'd also like to thank Red's Rotary Repair; when you need a rotary tool repaired, call Red. Additional funding has been supplied by the Equestrian Board of Print and Press. We're joined today by our guest, Metal Slab. How are you, Mr. Slab?"

"Fine, thank you," he answered. "It's nice to be here today."

"Metal Slab is a coroner with the local guard's office," explained the host. "He's here to give us the details of a case from last week. For those of you that are squeamish, we advise that you exercise discretion in listening to our program today."

There was a brief pause, then the hostess spoke up again. "So, tell us about your recent case."

"Well, about nine days ago, we were alerted that a stallion has died in his home. Now, this sort of thing happens all the time. Older ponies, ponies with medical conditions, stuff like that. It's a normal thing that happens every day, and there are methods of transporting the body that we keep very close to the chest, so as not to make a big scene. We don't want to scare the neighborhood kids, you know? So anyway, we go out to pick up the body from the house, and the stallion looked like he'd been dipped in some corrosive chemical, because his skin below the water line in his bathtub was covered in chemical burns.

"We took a sample of the bathwater in order to find out what was in it, and it was a mixture of what looked to be his stomach contents, some antacid medication, blood and bile. Really gruesome mix, but it made things pretty clear that there was foul play involved."

"Why do you suspect foul play?" asked the host, leaning back in his chair. "Usually in the detective books I've read, there's some kind of wound. Anything like that?"

"Well, no," replied Metal Slab. "No stab wounds, no cuts, the only damage came from his own body practically exploding. We're about eighty percent sure that he ingested a form of poison that caused him to first swell up and then eventually burst."

"I don't think I've ever heard of anything like that," groused the hostess, grimacing at the idea. "Does that happen often, and I just haven't heard of it?"

"No, that can't be the case," assured the host. "We'd have heard of any grizzly murders by poisoning before now if it was common."

"That is correct, it's very very rare for ponies to die this way," confirmed Metal. "So imagine my surprise when this was the second time I've seen this on the job, and the third time I've heard of these results in my lifetime. To the two most recent ponies that have died this way, we've spotted several connections, but not enough to say for certain what happened. As for the other case from fifteen years ago, we have no connections with either of the two new cases. We're not sure if there is a connection, but I can promise you that the guards are looking into it."

"Now, that is good news," nodded the host. "We like to know that our tax dollars are going towards protecting us from danger. The sooner we can set at ease the hearts and minds of our listeners, the better."

"Indeed."

"Can you tell us about the victims, or is that privileged information?" asked the hostess. "We would like to know, if we can, anything that might be useful."

"Well, I can definitely tell you about the first case. If it's involved, it's old information anyway. It was a father, a son, and one of the son's friends. There was one other colt, whom I am not allowed to name, as he's probably still alive. I haven't heard anything to the contrary, but I suppose we'll see."

"Wait, wait, wait," interrupted the host. "He was just a colt when this happened?"

"That's right."

"Wow." The host took a deep breath. "That's-- My deepest condolences to him, that can't have been easy to deal with at that age."

"I can't even imagine how traumatizing that would be," agreed the mare. "All of that at such a young age. That's supposed to be the best time in your life, and his was just ruined."

"According to his account, everything seemed fine when he went to bed. He had a bad dream during the night, but rolled over and went back to sleep. When he woke up the next day, he had breakfast, then went to wake up the stallion that was supposed to be watching them. Finding him deceased, he went to his other friends and found them in a similar state. Upon seeing this, the kid loaded up his pack all on his own, picked some fruit to eat on the way back, lit his own lantern and, no joke, navigated his way out of the forest and back to town, on his own, with only a lantern and a five centimetre long knife for protection. He was terrified that a crazed pony with a knife was after his friends, and was tracking him through the woods."

"That's a brave colt if ever I've heard of one," smiled the host. "He was alright afterward, right? He had the strength to carry on despite his loss?"

"For at least another five years. By then, the case was so cold that we stopped keeping up with him. If he has any information that he thinks might help, he knows that he can call up a guard at any time. As can all of your listeners, if they can help shed some light on this."

"And may I just put this on the record?" asked the host, not waiting for an answer. "To the young stallion that once was that little colt, I hope you've had a much easier time since. I hope you've found somepony that makes you happy, that you're in good health, and that you're gainfully employed."

"Indeed," agreed the mare. "We're going to take a short break before we go any further, so here's a word from our sponsors."

The jingle of the radio show played, and as the red light was turned off, the sound engineer called in. "And we're clear. Soft Spoken, go grab yourself a bottle of water, your voice sounded a little scratchy and dry at the end." The hostess nodded, stood up and walked out of the room as an intern rushed in with a note for Metal.