Silent Graves

"Let's add another sapphire to that," nodded Rotten, pointing to an empty spot. "It has to be perfect for my special lady."

"Of course," smiled the jeweler, drawing on another circle in the outline of the ring to be crafted, marking it with a seven. "Anything else, sir?"

"Nothing more just yet. I'll come back if I think of anything."

"Right you are, sir." The jeweler turned and punched several numbers into her calculator. "I'll have it ready in a few weeks. It will cost eight hundred and ninety-four bits, payable on pickup."

With a smile and a nod, Rotten walked out of the store and continued on his way. He'd been growing less and less happy with his marriage for the past two years, and despite his best efforts, it hadn't improved at all. He'd tried sleeping with other mares to keep him satisfied carnally, he'd tried spending time with other mares for emotional companionship, he'd spent a large amount of money building a new wing onto his house so she would have her own bedroom, and none of it had helped their relationship. Despite his best efforts, it had only served to drive them apart.

Then he'd met Whistling Winds. She'd shown him a world of pleasure he'd never known with his wife. Every curve of her body was beautiful and taut, rather than the floppy, saggy state of his current wife. The problem with her is that she just lived in a large apartment, rather than in a proper house. He couldn't just bring her to his house, either. His wife was still there, living in her own wing of the manor. No, he would need to do something about her before bringing his new lover in.

He returned to his work. He was a very prominent member of a very large shipping company. His entire job was to make sure that the whole city was supplied with wheat and its byproducts. Without him, there was no straw, no flour, and no bagels. Whether the citizens knew it or not, they were at least in part under his control.

After work, he went home. He had to rid himself of his wife, but Equestria had some very draconian laws on divorce. Sharing love freely was just fine, and sleeping with other mares was not a good reason to divorce somepony. He could potentially bring home a mare and hope that his wife hit one of them. Violent behaviour would grant him a clean split, but that required that she did something more than yelling, or blowing his money out of spite. He couldn't count on that. To top it all off, she was in very good health. If she were to suddenly croak, there would be an investigation.

Unless...

He pushed open the doors to his manor, dismissing the servants. All of them. He assured each and every one of them that they would be paid for a full day, but they had to leave. He told them that a pest control specialist was coming by in an hour, and would be spraying chemicals all night. With the assurance that it would be safe when they came back tomorrow, they filed out, knowing that it would be good for their health.

He waited another hour after that. It was just his wife and himself in their manor, and it was locked up tight. He had been sitting on his bed, contemplating how he would go about doing it. It had to be something that wouldn't make a mess. He'd had a maid his whole life. He didn't know how to clean up after himself, and he couldn't just cover it with a rug. This was beyond him. It had to be clean. At first, anyway. When he was done, she'd be somewhere else, in a big messy pile. That was unavoidable. As he decided on his method, he steeled himself and walked into her room.

She was sitting on her bed, flipping through a book. "Are you about ready to leave?" she asked, not bothering to look up. "The butler let me know you were planning on spraying. He even packed my overnight bag before he left. I assume you have a hotel lined up?"

Rotten didn't answer. In his mind, he was telling himself over and over that she wasn't a real pony, and that she didn't deserve to live. He took a few deep breaths. He needed her out of the way. This was the only course of action. He took a few steps forward.

"Are you just not going to talk to me?" she asked, looking up at him. "The whole silent treatment thing isn't scary, it's just annoying. If you're not going to tell me, I'll just have to make a guess." She stood up and moved to her vanity, throwing her scarf around her neck. "Of course, because you won't tell me, I'm going to go to the most expensive place I can find."

That was enough. Grabbing the ends of the scarf, he pulled back as hard as he could. He placed his knee squarely between her shoulders, pushing her away. Her face immediately displayed surprise and pain. She wasn't expecting this. Her hooves darted up to her neck, tugging the material away as hard as she could. It was warm, stretchy, and smooth as silk, but he was pulling it with such force that she couldn't pry it away.

She ripped open the drawer to her left. There was a pair of scissors inside that she could use to cut the material. As soon as he saw that, he ripped her off to one side, trying to stop her from fighting back. She hit the ground and dropped the scissors. He pulled up as she scrambled to reach the pair of blades that would save her life, but they were just out of her reach.

Desperately, she kicked at him, and at the floor, hoping against hope that somepony was still around to hear what was happening. She couldn't force any air out of her lungs to call out. Her only hope was to make enough noise to attract somepony; anypony. After five minutes of struggling and squeezing, she just stopped. The world had gone dark for her.

Slowly, Rotten released his grip on the scarf. He checked for a pulse, but he couldn't find it. She was either dead, or really convincing. The way her eyes bulged out of their sockets meant that he wouldn't have to fabricate that. He still had to blow her stomach open, though. It would take a somewhat powerful explosion, but he had something else in mind.

He dragged her out to the shed and shoved an air compressor hose down her throat. As he turned it on, her body blew up like a balloon until her stomach couldn't take the pressure anymore. She burst explosively. He pulled the air hose back out of her, coiling it back in the rack. He then rushed inside, took a shower, and packed a suitcase, making his way to a nearby hotel to secure his alibi.