Chapters Case File 001: Sweet Melancholy
Have you ever given much thought to how you’ll die? I have, constantly. It’s been an intrusive thought for years now.
My depression had brought me down to a new all time low. Suicide was my only viable option.
A culmination of years of resentment towards everything and everyone was a clear influence on my decision. I made myself out to be invincible, invulnerable. I stayed alive out of spite, but not everything lasts forever.
If anyone was going to have any say in how I died, it was me and me alone. I made my way through my mundanely simple life with this one fact in mind.
Generally unhappy with my entirely average life, I was never good enough at anything. I was of average height, average weight, my grades at school were average, my alcoholism was average.
I thought I could kill myself with booze, but when I fucked up my liver beyond repair it made drinking near-impossible to swallow, I chose to start destroying my lungs by smoking instead. The average lifespan before the advancements of modern medicine was anywhere from thirty to fifty, nowadays it's almost doubled.
A shit deal if you ask me. It used to be, be born, go to school, become an adult, have six or more kids then die before fifty. I promised myself if nothing eventful happened in life i’d kill myself aged thirty. But here I am, aged twenty-five, ready to break that promise.
From the time I graduated high school, my life had gone nowhere but downhill. I couldn’t hold onto a job for longer than a year, never had a girlfriend last longer than a month, the last one was at least seven years ago, she fucked me up big time. I lost the majority of my friends, some stuck around but they were never attentive enough to listen to my personal issues.
My sister got into a serious relationship that was still going strong after a few years, my jealousy directed at them worsened my mental state to the point of avoiding any couples. I withdrew from society, hating intimacy although secretly longing for any type of affection.
I made new friends online, though they were too far away from me to ever interact with them directly. My only job I can call successful has just come to an end, a little family owned business that they were selling off. The new owner of the business fired all the old employees. But even that job, like all the others before it, had been handed to me.
In my spare time, one bad habit I had developed was meeting girls online, and getting overly-friendly with them. Things would go well enough until I discovered that they were under eighteen. Usually a sane and morally responsible person would end the conversation right there. Not me though, I’d continue the conversation like nothing happened. Eventually I realised how fucked up and creepy the situation was and immediately stopped all communication. It left a bad taste in my mouth with how okay I had seemed at the prospect.
Before this I had saved enough money to put down a deposit on a house, and succeeded in getting the loan needed. So I bought my grandma’s old house. But now I have no way of paying that back in the short amount of time in front of me. So here I sit, my desolate room with naught lights or music.
I couldn’t even afford proper furniture. All I had in my near-empty house were the contents of my bedroom from my parent’s place.
The silence was deafening, what was I going to do? Go out and actually apply for jobs. I tried that before and got fucking nowhere. Life always finds new ways to fuck you in the ass.
That’s when my mind drifted back to my personal suicide pact. I wasn’t thirty yet, but nothing else was gonna get better. I used to self-harm, so slitting my wrists was out. I could never do it with enough pressure or speed to cut deep. Overdosing on anything posed the risk of surviving. Getting in my car and driving into oncoming traffic doing over a hundred poses a risk to others.
I only wanted to kill myself, not others.
A good fashioned hanging seemed to me like the most viable option. Only problem was my knowledge of noose tying was severely limited.
Google search: how to tie a noose. Ignore the suicide watch warnings. I found a WikiHow on tying nooses.
Wrap the thing around the loop, I couldn't make it thirteen loops with the length I had. Then put that bit through the other bit.
Done.
I looked over at my oven’s digital clock, it read 14:32. Preparations were to be made. I mentally scheduled my suicide for exactly ten-past-seven, the time of my birth. This will be a thing I will control. No second thoughts.
I walked to the kitchen and got out my alcohol. One last drink. There no was no point in dirtying glasses, so I tipped the bottle of American Honey up to my lips. It was always so good drinking this shit straight.
Opening up the back screen door, I sit down and look over my quarter-acre yard. The plans I had for this place, I sighed. I then got out my last pack of Winfield Blue , one last smoke.
After the remainder of my whisky was drunk and the last of the cigarettes smoked I stumbled back inside.
The time was only 6 o’clock now. I made my way to my bedroom, getting out my phone and searching YouTube. Might as well waste some time beforehand.
Finding some long meme compilation videos filled the time. A part of me felt that perhaps I'd be so amused with these memes I'd postpone the main event. They did not.
It was now time.
I had tied my noose around my ceiling fan in the lounge room. I knew it’d support my weight. I stepped up onto the stool I had laid down underneath it. My legs were shaking. So were my hands.
Was I having second thoughts? No way in Hell. This was my decision.
I slowly but carefully placed the noose around my neck and stared over at the oven clock. 19:09, nine-past-seven.
I started counting down the minutes.
One, two, three… Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty… fifty-nine, sixty.
I kicked the stool out from under me. I was going out of this life on my own terms.
The rope went taut, the ceiling fan wobbled above me. My brain was slowly being deprived of oxygen. I reflexively clawed at the rope, but soon stopped after I could no longer feel my fingers.
Then I died.
***
Inhalation. Gasping for air. Croaking, coarse. Throat’s fucked up.
Eyes opening, fearful of surroundings. Unfamiliar forest. Sensation of touch.
Cold breeze. Attempting to gain bearings. Standing uneasy. Walking is difficult.
A pond over yonder. Ponds have reflections. Walk to the pond. Check reflection.
Fall. Fall again. Walking is hard. Walking… on four legs… hard.
Pond reached, a small success.
Reflection. Check it. Fear. Check it again.
Equine. Pony. Staring back.
Red eyes, grey fur, black mane and tail. Wings at either side. Red mark across neck.
Blink. Reflection blinks.
Panic. Reflection mirrors expression.
This is me.
I am a pony.
Look to the left. No one.
I am not dead.
Look to the right. No one.
I am alone.
Case File 002: False Jeopardy
I must have stared at my reflection for at least an hour. This wasn't me, no fucking way.
I wasn't a pony. But regardless of how strongly I tried to deny it, the fact remained that I was. I had wings too, what's the word for winged pony again? Pegasus, from those Greek myths. I wasn’t super knowledgeable with all the creatures, but I knew that one.
Oddly enough, I still possessed a set of canines. Although, upon further inspection via running my tongue across them, I realised I didn't have just a set of canine I had rows of then. I put my hoof in my mouth and pull back my cheeks to get a better look at them. They looked sharp, like they could do some serious damage.
Was I some kind of predator? I couldn't recall anything from mythology about Pegasus being carnivorous, or omnivorous either. I was certain real horses were no different. I'm some kind of freak then.
Did I reincarnate or something? This is some fucking isekai shit right here. I didn't want a second chance, I wanted to kill myself. End it. Permanently.
What did the universe misunderstand about that? Unless this was Hell, I was an irreligious agnostic but the thought of being punished for suicide always hung around.
I fell to the ground on my… rear part of the horse's body. Whatever the fuck that was called. I rubbed my foreleg with the other, surprised to feel my old self harm scars on this new body. I felt around my neck too, where the rope had gone taut. It was red raw.
Being reincarnated would not stop me. I couldn't tie a noose anymore with these fucking hooves. I could always just starve myself. The average human adult could go almost a month without food but only a week or something without water.
I hoped pony physiology wasn't too different.
Wait, something was wrong. Something was missing.
Clumsily rolling myself over I looked down at my underside.
Something was indeed missing.
I was a girl pony. Fuck.
Whoever did this to me was going to fucking pay now. If I was going to kill myself I'd at least have some fucking dignity. I was going to die as a male.
The universe did this to me for sure. To teach me a lesson. Can't kill myself now that I'm the wrong gender. Fuck off universe. You don't control my actions. I do.
I wanted to scream, swear to the sky. No sound came out though. Now this caused me to panic quite a bit. I did enjoy the sound of my own voice.
I tried forcing my vocal cords to vibrate. Make a sound, anything.
I opened my mouth and tried again. And again. And again. I was straining myself at this point, my vision was going fuzzy. Passing out was a strong possibility.
Great, so I’m a mute pegasus girl. Who would have thought that a suicide would have lasting neurological problems. My anger bubbled to the surface. How dare things not go as I planned. Everything went wrong.
Fine. You win universe, I’ll live. Out of spite! Fuck you. Anything I do from here on out will be from my own accomplishments.
Is this feeling of optimism? It was strangely unfamiliar.
A sound broke me out of my internal musing. My stomach was screaming at me, I hadn’t eaten anything in over twenty four hours. My plan to starve myself was quickly forgotten. Being hungry sucks.
Standing up shakily on my new limbs, I looked around at my surroundings. It seemed to be a forest of some kind, but it had a menacing aura to it. As much as I hated that word, it sounded too “hippy," there was no other way to describe it. This forest was alive. Unnatural.
Thinking back on my sharp canines I found imagining chomping down on some unsuspecting rodent quite disgusting. I’d search for any fruit or berries first, there was no need to act like an animal. No pun intended.
At this time I almost wished I had watched a single episode of Bear Grylls . I knew nothing of surviving in the wilderness. I didn't even know if there was any civilisation nearby. Steeling my resolve I trudged onward into the eerily quiet forest.
I found a water source, check. I also found trees, check too.
That was it. I was hopelessly lost. I swear I'd only walked five minutes away from the pond but the next time I looked behind me the scenery had changed significantly. No sign of the pond in sight.
I felt scared. I was scared. I didn't understand why any of this was happening. I wanted to feel the sweet embrace of the eternal abyss. But instead I was a little pegasus.
It was only at that moment had I bothered to realise my short stature.
I'm a child. Double fuck. Suddenly my hopes of surviving decreased.
It didn't make much sense for me want to survive, considering I had just committed suicide. Perhaps it was out of spite.
A deep growl pulled me from my musing. Right in front of my eyes was the biggest creature I'd ever seen. Some kind of monster, bigger than a bear. Lion parts, scorpion parts. It had bat wings too, some kind of fucking chimera. Worse still, it looked hungry.
My legs wouldn't stop shaking, my breath got caught in my throat, not that I could scream. I racked my brain for any survival tip involving bears. Make myself look big.
I forced my legs to stop shaking. Puffed out my chest and looked directly at the monster before me. My wings still hung limply at my side, not knowing how to move them really reduced my tactic. I would stand my ground, trying to look as intimidating as I could possibly be. Comically small as I was.
The beast stopped it's growling and drooling. It looked at me with a tilt of its head. There seemed to be some semblance of intelligence behind its eyes. I refused to let my guard down though and continued to stare it down.
Unexpectedly, the beast lowered itself to the ground. Making itself look smaller in comparison to my own efforts. It looked into my eyes and I looked into its. No, hers, this beast was female.
I tried and failed to let out a yelp when the beast picked me up in her jaw, although it was being as gentle as it could. Was it being maternal? Instincts telling her to look after a small child?
I was helpless as the beast walked back to what I assumed to be her dwelling with me just dangling. I tried flailing my legs, but that didn't do anything so I gave up. Said dwelling was a large cave with moss and other greenery surrounding the entry.
Feeling myself being lowered I looked up to the weirdly affectionate captor. She held a soft expression, yet there was sadness behind it.
What happened to this creature to feel such grief?
She then turned and exited the cave after a wayward glance back at me. I waved nervously, not sure if I should take the time to flee or if curiosity would get the better of me and I'd stay.
A short while later I was still seated in the cave. The ground was cold. The creature returned with some kind of dead animal in its grasp. Still terrified, I shuffled back.
She dropped it at my feet and nudged it forward. Did she want me to eat this? After I was so ready to make up my mind on not eating like an animal. My stomach had other ideas.
I cautiously approached the corpse. Without further resistance, I dug into the meal in front of me. Tearing off strips of flesh and greedily consuming them. I looked up at the creature's odd expression, possibly due to the fact that I was a carnivorous pony. Her expression shifted into something warmer, the eyes of a mother that had lost her child. Those eyes reflected my own.
I finished my meal and wiped my now bloody face the best I could before cautiously walking over to the creature. I had to express my thanks. Feeling compelled to embrace her, as words wouldn't work. We hugged and I could feel the affection of the creature directed at me.
This was nice actually. I take back what I said universe, I wouldn't mind staying just like this.
My feelings of loneliness partially subsided.
Case File 003: Only a Matter of Time
A year had passed during my second life, and I had grown into a young adolescent girl pegasus pony. After experiencing going into heat for the first time this was my only assumption. That week will forever be humiliating to my dignity as a man. I locked myself away in the cave I'd grown to call home. Apart from that one setback, the past year has given me an abundance of time to adapt to my quadruped form and accept my gender.
At times it baffled me how fastly I'd become accustomed to being the opposite gender. I wasn't one of those transgendered people. I didn't even believe in gender fluidity, I found it stupid. Sure I had a few crossdressing fetishes I wasn't able to try out, but was still a straight guy. Thinking too much on the subject gave me a headache.
I had also become the surrogate child of the Chimera-like monster who had taken me in when I had nowhere else to go. I guess she found my false bravado amusing. Whatever the reason, I had begun to mentally refer to her as 'Mama', not out loud though. That'd be too cringy, plus I still couldn't make much sounds.
Mama showed me how to control my wings, I still didn't know how to fly. But at least they didn't drag on the ground anymore. She'd even keep me warm on many cold winter nights.
After the first three months of silence I started to relearn how to speak alone. I would attempt sounding out the alphabet as best as I could. Some single sounds and syllables were manageable, but hard syllables were… for lack of a better word, hard. It's not like I could ask Mama for help, she didn't speak.
I did pick up some differing growls and their related meanings from her though. One time I wandered to the forest's edge and saw other ponies, they were brightly coloured, unlike me. They spoke with each other and laughed. My spying was interrupted by Mama, who let out a low growl. My ears folded back, I took the scolding. But Mama wasn't rousing on me, she was warning me of the ponies. I suppose a little monochromatic carnivore Pegasus would scare the nice ponies. Back to our cave we went and all thoughts of interacting with the ponies disappeared from my mind.
I had witnessed how they treated outsiders, in particular, one zebra shaman. Bunch of racists, everyone emptied the streets whenever she went to town for supplies. The zebra shaman was nice. Mama took me to her one time when I was sick and delirious with fever. She was the only other pony Mama trusted.
Mama taught me to hunt too. The key is keeping low to the ground and waiting, lots of waiting. Nothing was now more satisfying than ripping into the throat of an unsuspecting rabbit or other small creature. There's no way I would have done this before… Mama found me, no that's not right. Before, when I was human. This has been happening more frequently. I was starting to forget myself.
Using a grounding technique I came up with, I started recalling things I did as a human. Random bits of pop culture knowledge and other trivia.
My bad habits and vices suddenly didn't matter to me. I hadn't the urge to drink or smoke, withdrawal symptoms weren't even a thing at all.
I was still very dependent on Mama. She gave me everything I needed. She even comforted me after I had nightmares, which were becoming more frequent. I had to protect Mama.
Unfortunately I never got the chance.
The Long Night ruined everything. I had noted that days and nights were the same as Earth, twelve hours light and twelve hours of dark. On this day, or night as it was, the dark lasted for longer. Thirteen hours had passed and still no sun.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. I had to investigate. I looked over at Mama, still asleep within our cave home. Steeling my resolve I exited the cave. Heading to the only place I could think of that would have the answers, the pony village.
It took nearly half an hour to reach the forest's edge. Peering through the foliage I noticed the ponies were having a celebration of some kind. From what I could see from this far away, the ponies also shared expressions of confusion or fear.
So they weren't responsible for this then. It was someone else. Maybe it was magic. I mentally gagged at the very thought.
Turning my attention back to the ponies, I noticed something that wasn't there before. A near-black giant pony had appeared. I couldn't quite make out her full appearance, but it looked like she had both wings and a horn. That didn't seem fair, having both.
Someone screaming "Nightmare Moon!" In the crowd taught me her name.
She was saying something now, I strained to hear it but I caught the last bit she shouted "Remember this day, little ponies, for it was your last. From this moment forth, the night will last forever!"
In a flash, she had dissipated into a purplish blue starry cloud. I panicked as I noticed the cloud coming straight for me and ducked my head. Hiding in the safety of the trees.
Slightly surprised, the cloud form of Nightmare Moon flew right past me. Not even a second glance was shot my way. I followed the cloud's trail with my eyes.
Home was that way. Mama would be there.
I froze as fear crept up on me. I had to protect Mama. Running off in the direction of the cloud I hoped I was not too late. I don't know what this Nightmare Moon would do, but she definitely seemed malevolent.
My little legs screamed at me in protest, cardio was never a strength of mine. I ignored the feeling and pressed on. I'd never run so far so fast in either life.
Mama found me when I first appeared, when I was still ready to give up. Mama gave me food and shelter. She taught me to be wary of outsiders and how to hunt. I had to try to repay all that.
While still being a child in appearance, I refuse to be helpless.
The mouth of our cave was visible. I could hear a commotion coming from inside. Mama was definitely in trouble.
Something bubbled up from deep within me. I screamed, "Mama!"
Saying anything cohesive for the first time in over a year and it was that. I ignored the voice in my head telling me it was cringe. That wasn't important now. Mama needed me.
I skidded to a halt at the entrance. Mama was fighting the cloud. The cloud was winning. Leaping into action I pounced on the clouded form of Nightmare Moon. Unsurprisingly I passed right through and hit the wall behind her. I probably sprained my wing after landing on it awkwardly.
Nightmare Moon resumed her natural form and stared at me with a hint of amusement.
"How quaint," she mocked, "a child."
Don't look down on me bitch I'll bite your fucking face off, I swear to God. Assuming a low crouching attack position I growled at the towering mare. She remained unmoved.
The standoff was broken when Mama stepped in between us.
I guess Nightmare Moon took the show of defiance as deeply offensive. She turned back into a cloud and went straight for Mama. Swirling all around her trying to find a point of attack. Could it be the she was trying to possess Mama?
I couldn't let that happen.
"Mama," I reached out in concern for my surrogate parent.
However, that momentary distraction was all Nightmare Moon needed. Mama turned to me but it was too late, the Nightmare had a hold of her.
A Nightmare-possessed Mama stared at me with hungry eyes. Behind them was the real Mama, but I couldn't reach her.
A big front paw swiped towards me. I tried to duck and roll out of the way, but my sprained wing hindered my movements greatly.
I jumped back from Mama, despite the damage already being done. Blood trickled down the side of my face from a deep cut right below my left eye.
"W-w-why?" My speech was laboured and broken. Like my breathing.
Mama shook her head, seemingly fighting the Nightmare within. She roared at me to get away, to run as far as I could.
The Nightmare cloud seemed to congregate around her paw, the one that struck me.
I could see Mama's pleading eyes. I didn't want to leave her, but I had to. Sniffing some dumb child tears away, I ran.
I ran and ran. Away from the sound of fighting and deep within the forest.
Just like that, I was alone again.
Case File 004: And Then There Was One
I ran. I ran as fast as my little legs would allow. My chest hurt and my head was pounding, yet I pressed onward. That just happened. What the fuck!? Mama. I had to rest, as I leant up against the nearest tree I surveyed my surroundings and continued to reflect upon the events that just transpired. The Nightmare cloud attacked Mama, possessed her or something.
And… and…
My racing thoughts started overlapping, sending my brain into overdrive. My breathing became ragged. I could sense the early warning signs I was about to start hyperventilating and pass out.
Grounding techniques. Point out five things you can see.
Okay, tree, grass, sky… my mind blanked on coming up with two more things.
What else, facts. Ground myself with facts.
Used to be human. Still a carnivorous Pegasus girl. My name is… was…
Oh fuck. What's my name. It had already been forgotten within a year. Bad grounding technique, not working.
The sound of a twig snapping nearby followed by a low growl put a halt to my panic. Yellow glowing eyes attached to a wooden muzzle parted the tall grass to my side.
A magical wolf made of wood, easily three heads taller than me. It stared down at me, something inside me told me this wasn't the kind of enemy I could stand up to.
I did the next most sensible thing. Ran.
Without Mama around I was defenseless, weak, useless. It was still the dead of night, visibility wasn't the greatest.
How long could I even last out here by myself?
Three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, and three weeks without food.
Thank you useless fact. Wait. I stopped dead in my tracks.
How did I remember some obscure fact but not my own name? Fast approaching sounds of my wooden predatory pursuer snapped me back to reality.
Mentally coming up 'stress' as the reason, I scrambled to flee again. That attempt was thwarted by tripping over a partially unearthed root and smacking my chin on the ground hard. I tasted blood in my mouth, most likely having bitten my tongue.
As sharp wooden fangs plunged into my hind leg, I let out a high pitched scream of pain. Hadn't been able to let one of those out since I was a kid... a human kid.
What surprised me the most was when my screams slowly turned to sobs and tears. I could barely form full sentences, how would I be able to call for help. It's not like my cries would be able to reach town anyway, muffled by the thick foliage.
No. The only one I could rely on was myself. I turned my attention down to the magical wood wolf gnawing on my leg. Its fangs sunk down at least a centimetre. I tried to will my other hind leg to move, and hit the wolf in the face. Nothing. I was still too paralyzed from fear.
Cursing my own weakness I started punching my own foreleg. Stop it. Move. Useless.
As the wolf started shaking it's head while still attached to my leg, my panicked eyes darted everywhere looking for anything that might help. My forelegs felt around in behind my head before I felt something, a rock.
I could feel it in my grasp. Grabbing it, I brought it over my head and smashed it down as hard as my small weak child body could.
Not a lot of force was apparently needed, as the whole right side of the wolf's face shattered and splintered upon impact. Tree sap splattered on my face. The wolf's blood equivalent I assumed.
Without wasting another second I resumed my escape, now with an added limp. I dropped the rock, still clueless how I'd picked it up in the first place. Blood trickled down my chin from the cut on the left side of my face, there was blood in my mouth, and now my right hind leg had several deep teeth marks that were also bleeding profusely.
I needed medical attention and fast or I'd bleed out for sure. Was the pony town safe though? I had no way of knowing whether or not they'd be frightened by me.
Trudging onward, the dense part of the forest lightened up as I neared the exit. The snapping of jaws behind me made me jump. Hurriedly I turned and scurried backwards as the wolf from before was standing in the clearing. Illuminated by the pale moonlight, half of its face still missing and dripping with orange sap. The wolf's expression read anger and hunger. My heart was beating so fast against my rib cage. There was no way I'd survive another altercation with this fucker.
The wolf's body language alone seemed to radiate an aura of smugness, it was playing with its food. Its food being me. It paced backwards and forwards in the clearing. Waiting for it's opportune moment to pounce, I reckoned. But before I could give it that chance I'd picked up a nearby stick with some weight to it. Again, not thinking on how I did it, only why.
Swinging my front leg back I tried throwing the stick as hard as I could. While I succeeded in throwing the stick at the wolf, I'd also succeeded in getting my two front legs tangled together and tripping over. My chin met with the ground yet again.
From my place on the ground, I looked up to notice the wolf had absorbed the stick I threw at it and had partially reconstructed its face. Although the wood was a different colour so it wasn't a perfect match. I could still see where it had been destroyed beforehand.
My eyes never left the wolf as I crept backwards, stumbling a few times. The wolf however, never left the safety of the dark forestry. Bored with its hunt being such a disappointment, it let out a howl of frustration and scampered back from whence it came.
With the danger passed I was safe, for now at least.
A loud rumbling sound broke the silence. My face turned red was embarrassment when I traced the source of said sound. My stomach.
I hadn't eaten anything for nearly two days, mine and Mama's hunting grounds were scarce lately. Before my mind could drift any further I picked a scent of something tasty.
It was nearby, but towards the pony town. I swallowed my fear and followed my nose.
After a few minutes I had found my prey. A single white rabbit. Unsuspecting and alone.
Recalling my training, I laid my body low to the ground. Hidden in the grass but with my fucked up leg now dragged behind me. Hopefully it wouldn't be a hindrance to me.
Crouched down I felt my butt wiggle in the air, an annoyingly embarrassing automatic response to my hunter mode. I always felt like a cat when I did this, ready to pounce.
Pounce I did. I jumped from above using my outstretched wings to stay in the air for an extra second before landing quickly and quietly on the white rabbit.
The frightened rabbit let out a squeak of terror as I descended upon it. Before I could rip its neck open, I hesitated as I stared into its fearful eyes. There was some semblance of sentience behind them. Very much unlike the many forest dwelling creatures I'd been hunting for the past year.
It squirmed under my hoof, eager to escape. When I realised the direction it wanted to run to I released him.
A little cottage stood across a ways, with a little bridge over the creek.
Someone's house. The bunny ran to the house. A pet.
I almost viciously mauled and ate someone's pet. Oh god, what was I becoming? What would I become?
After spending so long living in the wild, it seemed I was already losing my humanity, what little I had left anyway. I feared truly becoming a feral creature that wouldn't hesitate to kill anything.
With new tears streaming down my face, I limped away as fast as my mangled leg would allow. Towards the only place I could. The town full of non-carnivorous ponies.
Being able to make it to just inside the outskirts was all I could manage before the hunger and blood loss got the best of me. I collapsed hard.
Hopefully I would be pathetic looking enough for someone to take pity on and take me to the hospital.
I was all alone, after all.
Case File 005: Hypothetical Everypony
My eyelids were heavy. With much more effort than was needed, I opened my eyes. Only to be met with a plain white ceiling and plain white walls, trailing my eyes downward begot much of the same, white sheets and blanket. I guess this means someone got me to a hospital.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Funny how nearly a full year ago I killed myself, now I was glad to be alive. Even if only a bit. Besides, the single thought of being reborn again into a worse world kept most of my suicidal thoughts and tendencies at bay.
I'd been able to deal with my gender and body dysphoria for some time. Just out of necessity's sake, for survival. I feared however, that as soon as a nurse came through the door and started asking me personal questions it'd all come crashing back to me.
Before I stressed myself out further I looked down at my arm…or rather, fetlock (horse anatomy is stupid), to see an intravenous cannula inserted in the middle of the bend.
Oh fuck. What've they given me? I panicked. My panic only managed to spike the heart rate monitor into a frenzy, it being previously silent, which then only succeeded in having my fear come to fruition when a concerned looking nurse pony came into my room.
Her eyes read full of worry for me, but maybe some relief that I'd finally awoken. I was never an expert in human body language in relation to the expressed emotions, ponies were no different.
She introduced herself as Helping Hoof, a student nurse. From a brief glimpse I noticed she had some kind of tattoo on her posterior, although not wanting to be caught staring at her ass I averted my eyes upward. There was one nurse pony in the background with a notepad, and another that hovered over Helping’s shoulder, supervisors I assumed, considering she was a student nurse. If hospitals here operated about the same as home.
A kind expression adorned her face. Her colours were unlike the usually bright and vibrant ones I'd seen from afar. Tan beige with a brown coloured mane.
Trotting over to my side, she reset the monitor and laid a comforting foreleg on my cheek. When she took out a needleless syringe, instead having a thread to screw into the IVC, with a clear substance within, only then did my panic resurface.
Noticing my fearful eyes, Helping Hoof hesitated, "What's the matter, sweetie?"
Momentarily ignoring her condescending tone I pointed to the syringe and tried my best to formulate a coherent sentence, "Wha' tha'?" Those hard syllables were still causing me trouble.
Before she could access the cannula attached to my fetlock, the nurse closest to Helping cleared their throat and whispered to her, she’d done something wrong.
Righting herself from a seemingly obvious mistake, Helping released the cannula and leant back to explain, "It's called morphine, it'll make the pain go aw–"
"No!" I cut her off. Surprising both of us and the other two onlookers.
I shouldn't have yelled like that, this is a hospital. I was waiting for a response, but so was Helping. She shifted eye contact to her supervisors who motioned for her to continue.
"Mo'phine, awwe'gy." I continued weakly, I needed to get across the fact that I was allergic, despite my speech impediment. I'd spoken all of a couple words in a year. I still couldn't refrain from cringing anytime I tried to pronounce the letter 'L'.
Now I wasn't sure if pony medical physiology was different but I wasn't taking any chances. Even though my human memories were fading fast, the knowledge that I had a serious reaction towards morphine and other opiates remained.
I could see the heartache in her eyes, whether that was because of my voice or because she didn't believe me was anyone's guess.
Having already released the cannula, she put down the syringe from her… horse grip. Which I had no idea how worked but I mentally shelved the questions for later.
Picking up the clipboard at the foot of my bed with what I assumed to be my medical charts on, Helping held a pencil in her mouth and made an amendment to my chart.
"That's a very grown up thing to remember," she praised.
I knew she didn't mean to be condescending but I couldn't help but grind my teeth. I managed to grimace a smile and nodded.
"Paracetamol and ibuprofen it is then." She smiled before leaving the room. Seemingly to get the aforementioned medication.
I gave a nod and watched her go, taking the moment to view her tattoo or emblem. Which seemed to be a syringe. A comically large needleless syringe with a heart on it. Strange. Her supervisors followed her out closely behind, speaking amongst themselves regarding the student nurse.
Waiting an extra couple of seconds after Helping left, I scrambled out of my covers as best that my small limbs could and moved to grab my chart. Something that the student nurse had forgotten to put back and instead left it at that end of my bed.
Reaching out, my foreleg was still connected to the intravenous and with a little tug and a wince of pain, I tried to reach out with my good back leg and drag it back to me. A method that was more successful.
An attempt was made to hold the clipboard like the nurse held the syringe, but with no luck I simply left it face up on the bed.
These weren't words on the page. More like strange symbols and squiggles. Some seemed to follow a structure.
My old human memories resurfaced a bit, I used to love pattern searching and puzzles. That's all this was, a big puzzle. My overly analytical mind went to work.
Isolate the most used letter. Count its instances. Substitute some of these, work out what were vowels. By sheer coincidence, these symbols seemed to follow the rules of the English language, and most letters matched up with things I would usually assume to be on a medical chart.
Name and gender were there. Gender was one letter, I assumed it'd be 'F' for female, but as a pony it could also mean 'M' for mare. Confusing. Seems they also filled in the name section for me.
G-R-E-something else.
Wait, I saw that four letter word somewhere else in the next column. Five symbols, four unrecognised, two duplicates. Color? American spelling it seemed.
Grey.
They named me what my colour was.
Before I could ponder more and try to decipher what a phrase in parentheses next to my name meant, I heard hoofsteps approaching.
I tossed the clipboard back to the end of the bed and tried to shuffle back under the covers. Only managing to get halfway in, however.
Helping Hoof entered the room, followed by another pony. A stallion judging by his broader build and squarer face. The expression on his face was stern but caring, meanwhile Helping's displayed a measure of chastisement.
He was a unicorn, by the horn on his forehead that much was obvious. Sticking through his dark grayish tangelo hair, I was only partially surprised when a cyan aura emitting from his horn picked up my chart and brought it closer to him. His light amber coat was half covered by an actual coat.
This observation shocked me. I thought clothes weren't a thing, because of fur. Was this town some kind of fucked up nudist colony that even extended to children? Disgusting.
Helping was naked this whole time.
I've been naked this whole year. Only because I didn't know what kind of societal rules existed. I immediately covered my chest, pointless as it was.
"Wan' c-c-cwofes." I managed to stutter.
The doctor took a moment to mentally decipher what I'd said, "You want clothes?" He reiterated, at my insistent nodding he turned to Helping and whispered something I couldn't quite make out.
She nodded and took her leave, hopefully to get me something to wear. While the doctor approached the end of my bed, he introduced himself as Doctor Horse. Fitting but also hilarious.
"Now you're one lucky filly," he started, going through my chart, "multiple lacerations and a few splinters from a nasty Timberwolf. Timberwolves have a special paralysing enzyme in their saliva, sounds like somepony found you just in time."
I couldn't help but stare at the doctor, they were literally called Timberwolves. Can't believe I couldn't think of that. Also, somepony? Some other things he said went in one ear and out the other.
"Now I apologise for Helping, we have a code of conduct we follow here and she’s still learning."
Why was he telling me this? I shrugged in response.
"I am going to go through some questions that Helping should have. These are just to determine your orientation."
Again I was confused, but let him continue.
"Can you tell me your name?" He asked.
I had to speak. Terrific. Didn't he realise how bad I was.
With a quick second glance at the clipboard, I resolved myself and managed to stutter out, "...Gw…Gwey?…" Not really sure of my own answer.
True it wasn't my actual name, but I didn't really know my name anymore, either way it wouldn't apply. That was my human name, now obsolete.
With a raised eyebrow, the doctor didn't look convinced however. Must have seen my eyes wandering to my chart.
I fumbled trying to think of another name. I rubbed my cheek with my hoof. Pausing as I felt the scar. Nick. That was a human name. Who's to say it was mine or not.
"N-n-ni-ni…" pathetic, I had to adapt. So I did the only thing I could think of. Point at the scar that ran from my left cheek up to under my eye and say, "N-name."
After a confused pause, the doctor seemed to get the idea.
"Scar?"
With a shake of my head, the doctor tried again.
"Scratch?"
No, I bit my tongue to stop a childish whine from coming out.
Eventually, "Nick?" He got it. I nodded ververently, so much so I thought my head might pop off.
He quickly made an amendment on my papers. I wondered silently, if I'd need to provide a second name. My internal question was then answered.
"Family name?" Doctor Horse queried.
I didn't have one. So I said nothing.
Another amendment, "We'll just leave that as 'Grey' shall we."
Oh, cool. I have a full name… I guess. Nick Grey sounds very human though. Surmising that calling me by my colour was like the John and Jane Doe situation in the human world.
"Grey Nick," the doctor addressed me.
Nevermind.
"Do you know today's date?"
A shake of the head led to another scribble.
"Do you know where you are?"
No. Scribble.
On and on these mundane questions went. I was getting bored. The more questions I answered 'no' to, the more questions he'd ask.
Eventually the good doctor put away his pen and clipboard. He took out his fob watch to check the time and then glanced at the door. Seemingly right on time, Helping Hoof walked through the door. With my pain medication and a bundle of fabrics I hoped were clothes.
Making dumb stupid grabby motions with my fetlocks beckoned Helping over to me. True to her name she then helped me into the clothes, which was only an oversized hoodie. Probably from lost and found. I didn't mind, it was comfy and now everything was covered enough for my liking.
I subconsciously pulled the sleeves further down my forelegs. Something the doctor noticed but didn't say anything about… for now.
At that moment, I really wished my injuries and scars from my previous life didn't appear on this body. All it's gonna do it's invite more questions than I have answers. Of course, I could always act selectively mute, an option that can be successfully undertaken. They already know how bad my vocabulary and articulation is.
Breaking the silence was the biggest yawn I didn't know I was capable of. Doctor Horse and Helping seemed to get the message after that.
Something in the doctor's look changed though, I panicked that he'd seen my teeth and haphazardly covered them. Not too much effect though.
"Now you get some rest Grey, we'll be back around later." The doctor smiled, finishing up his observations.
I just gave a tired nod and tried to get comfy in the hospital bed. An impossible task with the intravenous still connected. At least the heart rate monitor lead was off my fetlock. Helping waited a bit watching me struggle before coming over and assisting.
She propped a pillow up behind my head and even tucked me in. Such kindness I had not experienced in too long. My stupid child brain took these memories as a sign to start crying. Tears welled in my eyes but didn't fall, I was too well trained from my time as an emotionally distant adult male.
Before Helping could fuss over me more and ask what was wrong, I simply waved her away. I didn't want ponies to be scared of me. I was a freak.
With her back turned, I mumbled, "Fan' yew."
I could feel her kindhearted warm smile radiating towards me, before she left.
I was alone again.
They said they'd come back, they're gonna have more questions than I can answer, I just know it.
Even with all these ponies around, concerned for my wellbeing and ready to assist, I felt more alone now more than ever.
Case File 006: Isolated Incident
Sleep had become a luxury I no longer had. It eluded me, hiding somewhere out of reach. I found myself staring at the patterns on the ceiling, and though it felt like hours had passed, the reality was likely only five minutes. My mind was racing with thoughts, and there was a lot weighing on me.
I struggled to recall my life beyond the past year, skipping over some of the gaps in my memory. As time went on, memories became more elusive and uncertain, leaving me wondering if they were even real. My mind began to wander, and every little sound I heard sent my anxiety skyrocketing.
Are those birds chirping at this time of night? No, it's something else. I'm in danger, I can't stay here.
Kicking off my sheets and blanket was one problem, but now I was tangled up with the intravenous line running underneath the sleeve of the hoodie I was given. Something told me that ripping it out was a bad idea.
Every small shadow danced upon the wall, and I was almost glad I wasn't sharing the room. If someone else was in here, who knows what they'd think of me.
Untrusting of what my eyes were seeing, I closed them, but that only invited my ears to pay extra attention. I heard a rustling outside, possible hoofsteps in the hall, and someone at the front reception filling out paperwork. My hearing, once a valuable tool in the forest, now only hindered me.
Why couldn't things just be simple again? Hunting and living in the forest with Mama was simple. But that was taken from me by that Nightmare lady, and the anger and killing intent boiled inside me. I had no outlet, so I bottled it up, save it for later. That was how I did things before.
Taking a deep breath, I recalled wise words to help one sleep: 'Pretend you're asleep until you are.' It always worked for me when I was human, but now, I struggled to calm down.
Tidying up my blankets, I slid down inside them. Sleep was vital, and I couldn't operate on less than three hours of it. My eyes closed as I tried to relax and drift off, but the memories of my past kept me up, haunting me.
Weightlessly, I drifted, all worries and fears melting away. They were unimportant, insignificant.
I had a big day, things happened that I wish hadn't, but it doesn't matter now. It is what it is.
Am I dreaming? How long has it been?
The sensation of floating in zero gravity overwhelms me. It's like I'm an astronaut in space, twisting and flipping aimlessly.
A shadow emerges in the distance and gradually moves closer, taking shape. It's Mama! I call out to her, but no sound escapes my lips.
I'm gripped with fear, unable to move in the emptiness around me. Mama's shadow fades into the void, disappearing once again.
Awoken in a cold sweat, I felt my fur matted to me. I never realized how bad the smell was, but I remembered I probably hadn't had a proper shower in a year. Being licked clean hardly counted. Plus, there was that one time in my first month of existence when I almost drowned in a shallow pond since I couldn't swim.
The room was quiet, and daylight shone through the curtains, despite me thinking I'd only had at most an hour of sleep.
Hearing my distressed sleep, the student nurse Helping Hoof entered my room. She came right up to the side of my bed, with an expression of concern lacing her facial features.
"You alright sweetie?" she asked me.
I tried not to cringe at being addressed that way, but unfortunately, I could not hide my next reaction. Helping gently placed a hoof on mine, causing me to visibly flinch back.
I spied her out of the corner of my eye with a hurt expression, and now I felt bad.
"S-s-sowwy," I stammered, giving a poor apology.
But she just smiled at me, silently letting me know she'd be there for me. There was something else behind the kindness in her blue eyes, but just as I started to notice it, it vanished.
"Helping, a moment please." Doctor Horse, who had been standing in the doorway for who knows how long, ushered the nurse away.
They walked out into the corridor, and although my hearing was good, I still struggled to pick up what they were saying.
"...ever seen…abused…careful." That sounded like Doctor Horse.
"...teeth…filed? …Do this?" Helping said, worry and concern ripe in her voice.
None of that sounded good. I had to get out of here, but I was still restricted by the cannula. Escape would prove difficult.
Suddenly the sound of receding hoofsteps made my ears prick up and swivel to the source. The hoof falls were far too light to have been the doctor.
Why was Helping leaving though? Did I do something wrong? Oh fuck, I did something wrong for sure.
Calm down, you're just overthinking things. I tried telling myself to no avail.
I didn't want to have a panic attack in the hospital; then, they'll think I'm a special case and not leave me alone. Constantly hovering. They'll hover.
My inner pre-panic attack was interrupted by Doctor Horse entering my room with another pony, one who wasn't Helping Hoof.
"Good morning, Grey," he greeted me. "I've brought a friend with me today," he finished.
A light turquoise Pegasus stallion followed after Doctor Horse. "Hi, I'm Doctor Sweets," he sounded young. "I'm a psychologist. Do you know what that is?" He's patronizing too.
I just clenched my jaw and nodded. There was no point in arguing if I couldn't even articulate properly. His name sounded familiar for some reason, but it couldn't be because I've obviously never met him before. With the brief thought deemed not important, I mentally shelved it.
"Now, as to why I'm here," Doctor Sweets started, "Doctor Hooves saw your self-harm scars." He ended his sentence to almost sound like a question, prompting an answer.
Fucking shit. Damn it. I'd hoped he wouldn't. Guess it's too late for that now; better come clean. I nodded in response. Yes, I self-harmed.
"I'm here to talk to you about them. Those scars look pretty old. Have you stopped doing that now?" He asked.
I nodded my affirmation.
He paused for a second, looking back at Doctor Hooves, who whispered something to him. Turning back to me, suddenly, he looked more attentive. I could feel him scanning me with his eyes, watching for body language indicators.
I ran with the assumption that he was told of my speech impediment or, rather, my extremely limited vocabulary.
Doctor Sweets brought himself to my level beside me. I could see into his eyes now; young, but not uncaring, he simply had a job to do. I felt like I could lower my guard a little around him.
"Would you mind telling me how you're feeling?" He asked very politely.
I just shrugged my shoulders, not quite sure how best to answer such a loaded question. What I'm feeling now was vastly different from how I felt over two years ago when I picked up the blade.
"Okay, that's okay," Doctor Sweets said, "how about when you first did that yourself?" Pointing to my fetlocks.
I was silent for a few seconds before answering, "S-s-sa' a-a-an' ang'y." I stuttered, hating the sound of my own voice.
"Sad and angry?" He repeated.
Upon seeing the surprise on my face at him having understood me, Doctor Sweets revealed, "you're not the first foal I've dealt with that has some sort of speech impediment. It's okay, take your time."
Simply nodding to him, I calmed myself and prepared for the next question.
"Now," he continued, "have you been suffering or have suffered from depression?"
Wasn't it obvious? Instead of arguing I just nodded dumbly.
"Any key memories that you believe may have contributed to it?" He asked with a notepad ready at hoof.
What caused my depression? Easy, it was because of…
Or was it…
Why was I depressed?
I started to panic. My face went tingly and my muzzle felt like static. My exhalations became far more deliberate.
I couldn't remember why I was depressed. This was an answer I should know.
I soon started hyperventilating. The heart rate monitor started going crazy. A panic attack was inbound, I could feel all the warning signs.
Doctor Sweets was trying to say something to calm me down, but his voice was drowned out by my heartbeat in my eardrums.
It had been too long since I had last felt this stressed.
"U-u-um I-I-I… ab-a-ba-a f-f-f–" I babbled incoherently, much like my thoughts were.
Everything was going white.
I passed out.
***
I slowly opened my eyes, feeling disoriented and groggy after passing out. An amount of time had passed, although I didn’t know by how much.
Everyone had since left my room.
Course the doctors wouldn't stick around, I'm a lost cause for sure. Maybe it'd be better if I just went back to where I came from, in the forest.
Lying in that hospital bed, I felt small and vulnerable listening to the sounds of ponies bustling in the hallway outside my room.
Before I could get deeper into my self loathing, a pegasus mare I didn’t recognise popped her head in my door.
"Captain, she's awake." She said to another, out of sight.
The door swung open, revealing the other pony, a large normal stallion. They were both clad in gleaming golden armor, and a blue star was embedded in the center of each of their chests. The larger pony had a stern expression on his face, while the smaller pegasus had a gentle smile.
I took further note of their appearances, the stallion had a rugged, scarred face that was partially obscured by the visor of his helmet which he refused to take off, even in a hospital. His fur was a dark green and had a silvery mane and tail. He moved with a powerful grace and had a no-nonsense attitude that made him seem like a natural leader.
His companion, at least, had some decorum and had since removed hers, revealing light blue coloured fur and blonde mane and tail both tied back with pink ribbon. Despite her small size, she exuded a quiet confidence that commanded respect.
As the two military ponies stood in my room, they paused to introduce themselves. The larger earth pony spoke first, his voice deep and commanding. "Greetings, young one. My name is Captain Golden Hoof, and this is my colleague, Lieutenant Skywing. We’re with the Canterlot Royal Guard."
The smaller pegasus, Lieutenant Skywing, gave me a warm smile and a nod of greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss," she said in a gentle voice. "We're here to help you in any way we can."
My heart pounded as they approached me, their hooves clanking on the hard floor. The normal pony's voice was deep and commanding as he spoke. “We need to ask you some questions."
I looked up at them with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Who were these ponies, and why did they want to talk to me? I didn't have much experience with authority figures in my old life, not having the best experiences with the police over the years, but these ponies were different. Their armor made them seem powerful and imposing, but also trustworthy.
As the stallion leaned in closer, I felt a sudden urge to retreat deeper into my blankets. But then, I remembered that I had nothing to hide. My limited vocabulary made it difficult to communicate, but I tried my best to answer their questions.
"Can you tell us your name?" the Lieutenant asked.
"Gwey," I replied.
"Okay, Grey," she said. "We'll take care of you. Don't worry."
"Where are you from?" the Captain asked rather bluntly.
"F-f-f-ow-west," I replied. Although it may have sounded more like a question.
"How did you get here?" Skywing asked, more gentle sounding.
"Don't ‘member," I said.
They looked at each other with concern, and I felt bad for not being able to give them more information. They tried asking me more questions, but I struggled to find the words.
Finally, Skywing came to sit down beside me and looked at me with kind eyes. "It's okay," she said softly. "We're here to help you. You don't have to be afraid."
I looked across at her, feeling a little bit better. Maybe they weren't so scary after all.
Then came the question I’d been dreading.
Captain Golden Hoof wanted to know how long I’d been out in the forest. I considered lying, but the more I tried to think up a convincing lie the longer I was feeling the gruff Captain’s stare. So I relented and told the truth, as best as I could.
I tried to convey the story of my survival with the addition of simple nods and gestures while the two military ponies looked on. They’d occasionally look at each other with shock and disbelief, I guess having never heard of anyone, let alone a child, surviving in the forest. When I managed to get out that I’d been raised by a creature they later identified as a manticore they held surprised looks on their faces. I suppose it wasn’t a normal occurrence.
Skywing gently touched my facial scar, “Did the manticore do this to you?”
I didn’t want to say anything, else it would be misconstrued. However the concerned look on her face compelled me to.
“Ash-i-den’” I carefully, although incorrectly, sounded out.
The look Skywing gave me told me she wasn’t satisfied with my answer but accepted it nonetheless.
They stayed with me for a while longer, asking me simple questions and trying to get me to communicate in other ways. They helped me eat some food and drink water, and I started to feel a little bit better. They didn't seem like bad ponies. Maybe they were right. Maybe they could help me.
Eventually, they left, but they promised to come back and check on me. I was still scared and confused, but I felt a little bit better knowing that they were trying to help me. Maybe one day I would be able to talk more and tell them where I came from. Until then, I would have to trust them and hope for the best.
After the two military ponies left, my nurse, Helping Hoof, entered the room to check up on me. I had already grown somewhat comfortable with her presence. Her soft voice and gentle touch was always welcome.
"Good afternoon, Grey," Helping Hoof said with a warm smile as she approached my bed. "How are you feeling?"
I gave a small shrug, still feeling a little overwhelmed by the events of the day. Helping Hoof didn't seem to mind and instead began to check my vitals and adjust my pillows. I’m glad she didn’t say anything about the fainting spell.
After a few moments, Helping Hoof asked, "Did the military ponies tell you anything interesting?"
Another shrug was my response. I was tired of communicating with ponies for the day.
Helping Hoof placed a hoof on my shoulder and said, "You're a very brave filly, Grey. To have survived for so long in the forest is truly remarkable."
I blushed at the praise, feeling a little embarrassed but also a little proud. I was glad to have someone like Helping Hoof looking out for me during my stay at the hospital.
A while later, after Helping had left again, the military ponies returned to my room. Captain Golden Hoof's face was grim as he spoke. Unusually, his helmet was by his side. "Grey, we found the manticore. We had to kill it."
My heart stopped as I struggled to process his words. The manticore...dead? My eyes filled with tears as I thought of the creature who had raised me in the wilds. "Mama?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"I’m sorry, Grey," Lieutenant Skywing said softly. "We went to the area to see, but it attacked us as soon as we approached, we had to defend ourselves."
“We also couldn’t have something so dangerous so close to town. We hope you understand.” Golden Hoof added.
I felt a sense of anger welling up inside me. How could they just kill my mother without a second thought? "M-mama g-gone?" I managed to stutter out.
Lieutenant Skywing knelt down beside me, placing a hoof on my shoulder. "We understand how hard this is for you, Grey. But we'll do everything we can to help you find a new home."
I panicked and bit her foreleg. "No! No new home!" I shouted, my limited vocabulary failing me.
I didn't mean to hurt Skywing. I just didn't want them to have taken my mother away from me. But when I bit down on her foreleg, I felt something warm and wet in my mouth it tasted coppery and metallic. I didn't understand what I had done until I saw a chunk of flesh dangling from my sharp teeth.
Skywing cried out in pain, before I could even apologise for what I’d done, Golden Hoof shoved me away from her.
“You stay away from her!” He commanded, before calling for the hospital security.
I didn't understand what was happening until two ponies in white uniforms burst into the room and lunged at me. I tried to back away, but they were too quick. They grabbed me and held me down, and before I knew it, a sharp pain pierced through my body.
I struggled and thrashed, trying to get free, but it was no use. The world around me began to spin, and then everything faded to black.
Alone again.
Author's Note
Sorry for the long wait folks. Got half this chapter done last year and got hit with writer's block so i left it. Knocked all of this and chapter 7 out in a day.
Thanks for sticking around and look forward to reading more.
Case File 007: Solitary Confinement
I woke up with a start, my heart racing. My foreleg was cuffed to the bed. Panic set in as I tugged at the restraints, but they wouldn't budge. As I sat there, trapped and afraid, memories flooded my mind.
I remembered attacking Skywing, biting her and ripping out a chunk of her flesh. The guilt and regret weighed heavily on me, and I wished I could take it all back. But it was too late. I had hurt someone and now I was paying the price for it. I hung my head in shame, tears streaming down my face.
That horrible taste still lingered in my mouth. I ran my tongue across my pointed front teeth absentmindedly.
Suddenly, I heard muffled voices outside my room. "Yes, I'm here to pick up one Grey Nick," a low monotone voice said. "I have all the paperwork right here."
"Uh, I'm not sure," another voice responded. "Let me check with my supervisor."
A few moments later, the door opened and a pony I've never seen before entered. He was a lanky gray stallion, darker than me, with a sleek black mane slicked back over his head. An air of intelligence radiated from his sharp eyes and his demeanor suggested a high level of confidence. Despite his professional appearance, there was something unsettling about him that made me uneasy. The marking on his hindquarters was a black hourglass, all possible meanings made me shudder.
"My name is Grim Reminder, I am here to discharge you." He spoke with a slight rasp.
I tried to ask questions, but he cut me off with a raised hoof.
"Everything's been taken care of," he said smoothly. "We need to get you out of here immediately." Calmly and measured with no sense of emotion or excitement.
I looked at him warily. "Where you 'a'ing me?"
He didn't answer, just unlocked my handcuffs, disconnected all the hospital equipment from my foreleg and helped me out of bed. I stumbled a bit, still feeling groggy from the sedatives. My wings ruffled through the holes in the hoodie made for them.
As we walked down the hallway, I overheard Grim Reminder talking into his earpiece. "I have the subject. We're on our way out."
I started to feel a knot in my stomach. What kind of "subject" am I? And who was this pony taking me away?
Grim Reminder led me out of the hospital, the sound of his hooves echoing through the long, twisting hallways. As we walked, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease, like something was deeply wrong. My right hind leg still pained me, but I was given no sympathy.
Suddenly, we rounded a corner and came face-to-face with my nurse, Helping Hoof. She looked surprised to see me, and I could tell that she was about to ask where we were going.
But Grim Reminder was too quick for her. "Excuse me, miss," he said smoothly, flashing a piece of paper with an official-looking stamp on it. "We're on official business. I'm afraid I can't say more."
Helping Hoof looked skeptical, but she didn't press the issue. "Well, alright then," she said, stepping aside to let us pass.
As we continued down the hallway, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
I gave a forlorn glance back at Helping, but my gaze was met with a sympathetic yet helpless expression from her. I fluttered my wings, feeling the cool air on my feathers. I wished I could fly away from this confusion and uncertainty. I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, I thought Helping would help me. I thought she was nice.
Grim Reminder led me down the hallway, his long strides forcing me to trot to keep up with my small useless little legs. I felt a growing sense of unease, unsure of where we were going or what was going to happen to me.
We passed several ponies, staff and visitors alike, none of which paid us a second glance.
As we approached the exit, I saw a sleek black chariot seemingly drawn by nothing waiting for us outside. The chariot was decorated with silver filigree and seemed to gleam even in the late evening. Its tinted windows made it impossible to see into.
Grim opened the door and gestured with a sideways nod of his head for me to climb in. I hesitated for a moment considering just legging it, before giving up on that notion and climbing into the chariot, settling into the cushioned seat. The lanky stallion climbed across from me, then tapped a hoof against the side of the chariot.
I looked up at my supposed captor, feeling a sense of fear wash over me. "Wh-where going?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
The gray-furred stallion didn't answer me, instead keeping his eyes fixated on the scenery passing us by. I shifted in my seat, feeling increasingly uneasy. "Why no talk?" I asked, struggling to form the words, further cursing my limited vocabulary.
He let out a deep sigh and turned to face me. "We're going to a special place," he said slowly, enunciating each word as if I were a child. "A place where they can help you."
As I sat in the chariot with Grim, I couldn't shake off the feeling that he was treating me like a child. His words were slow and simple, as if he thought I wouldn't understand anything more complicated. But I was far from being a child—I had the mind of an adult male, even though I was stuck in the body of a small useless flightless winged child.
"Help m-me?" I repeated, my nonfunctional wings fluttering nervously.
Grim Reminder nodded. "Yes, help you. Make you better."
I felt frustrated that Grim Reminder couldn't see past my physical appearance and realize that I was capable of more than he gave me credit for. I wanted to tell him that he didn't need to talk to me like I was a fucking child, that I could handle complex concepts and conversation. But I didn't know how to express myself without my speech impediment getting in the way.
I didn't know what to say. How could they make me better if I didn't feel like there was anything wrong with me? "No un'ers'an'," I muttered, looking down at my hooves.
Grim Reminder reached over and patted me on the head. "Don't worry, little one. Everything will be okay."
I tried my best to stay calm and composed, to not let my annoyance show. But every time Grim Reminder spoke to me in that slow, patronizing tone, it was like he was chipping away at my dignity and self-respect. I wished he could see me as an equal, not as some helpless little filly who needed to be taken care of.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, like something wasn't right. I couldn't quite put my hoof on it, but I knew that this "special place" Grim Reminder was taking me to wasn't going to be a good thing. But I didn't know what to do or say, so I simply sat there, my wings tucked tightly against my sides, lost in my thoughts.
The self-driving chariot lifted into the air after some kilometres and started flying. Of all the things I'd witnessed, nothing surprised me more.
We flew for hours, the landscape below grew increasingly desolate and barren. My stomach growled, but Grim Reminder didn't seem to notice or care. Eventually, we landed at a massive complex of buildings surrounded by high walls and barbed wire. Six single letters were printed in massive letters on the walls and the side of the building. I couldn't concentrate on them for long enough to remember their English equivalents. The dots in between the letters suggested to me that it was an abbreviation of some kind.
As we crossed over into the facility's airspace, I felt a sudden sense of dread wash over me. I had no idea where I was nor what was going to happen to me, but I knew it couldn't be good.
Our landing was less than graceful, akin to suddenly slamming on the brakes. Grim departed first, holding open the door for me.
“Out.” He instructed. The one word holding authority, but also instilling fear in me.
I timidly scooted out of my seat and departed the chariot also, almost tripping over the hoodie sleeves on the way. Grim then started walking towards an entrance to the facility.
“Follow.” he called back, not even bothering to look at me.
My ears folded back as I began to follow him. I still tried to limit the amount of pressure I was placing on my damaged leg. As I walked after him I looked around and noticed armed guards patrolling the walls. Just what were they guarding here?
Grim stopped to address some nearby ponies who looked as stern and cold as he did, some words I couldn't quite make out were exchanged and they gestured for us to follow them inside.
The interior of the facility was just as intimidating as the outside. The halls were lined with reinforced doors, and guards patrolled the corridors at regular intervals. I kept my head down, feeling like a prisoner being led to her cell.
We arrived at a door marked Medical Wing , and Grim gestured for me to enter. I hesitated, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Pwease no weave," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Grim gave me a sympathetic look, which I assumed was false as he didn't offer any reassurance. "I'll have to leave you once we're inside. But don't worry, they'll take good care of you."
Entering the Hospital Wing, I was then led to another marked Research and Development. Which seemed odd for a Hospital Wing.
What I saw looking around the room horrified me to all ends. Ponies in padded cells, with glass front walls. As if they were exhibits being shown off. Most of them were in deep stages of psychosis.
In the cell closest to my line of sight sat a drooling mess of a mare with pink fur and a violet tangled mess for her mane and tail. Her most startling feature were her eyes, also violet in colour but her pupils were swirls. She babbled to herself incoherently. Her mark, a baseball and a screw. Her grin was manic and unsettling. She was staring right at me, although she might as well have been staring through me.
The cell adjacent to her was empty save for various equipment made for restraining. What looked like vibrant pink bomb residue stained the walls. It had very obviously been empty for a while. Whatever was in that cell, they were waiting for it to return.
Suddenly, a tall unicorn with a white lab-coat over similarly coloured fur and an ocean blue mane approached us. "Welcome, welcome," he said in a friendly tone. "I am Doctor Test Chambers, head scientist here at the Equestrian Quantum Universal Intelligence Nexus and Experimentation facility. And who is this adorable little filly?"
Ignoring the fact that the facility's name was literally “EQUINE,” Dr. Chambers disgusted me within the first two seconds of meeting him. I flinched at his condescending tone. He too regarded me as nothing more than a fragile child. I tried to speak up but the words I wanted to spout I could not form.
Dr. Chambers didn't seem to notice my discomfort, instead focusing on my physical appearance. "My, my, what a specimen you are," he said, examining my wings and hooves. Even going so far as sticking his hoof in my gums and revealing my razor sharp teeth. "I can't wait to study you and unlock the secrets of your unique physiology."
His words provoked a chill to run down my spine. I didn't want to be studied or exploited like a common lab rat. I didn't want to be dissected and have pins stuck in me, I was scared. But I didn't know how to fight my way out of Dr. Chambers' control. He was an adult who was taller than Grim, and thus vastly more intimidating to a child like myself.
I looked up at the ever stoic Grim, hoping for some support or reassurance, but he simply stood by silently, eyes straight ahead watching the exchange. I suddenly felt more alone and helpless than ever.
My visible discomfort did not seem to faze the good doctor. “We'll be doing some tests shortly, and taking samples. It’s all in the name of science, they won’t hurt… much.”
I retreated back some steps, into Grim. “N-n-no h-h-h-urt.” I stammered. I wanted to protest more but simply did not have the words.
Grim stepped around and past me, his presence now strangely reassuring. Directly in front of the doctor he firmly told him, “She will not be harmed.”
Dr. Chambers nodded, but I could see a glint in his eye that made me uneasy. I knew I was in for a lot more than just a few tests. Grim’s words may go unheeded.
Fear lodged in my throat.
“Of course, my good agent. Why don’t you find our guest ,” he said that with a certain inflection I was sure was not welcoming, “...suitable accommodation.” His smirk was even more unnerving.
Grim nodded and pushed me along into one of the padded cells. I tried protesting and backpedaling but Grim wouldn’t budge. With a press of a button, the glass front slid down and shut me off from Grim and the rest of the outside world.
Looking around the small cell, there wasn’t even a bed or table in sight. Just padding, on the floor, walls, and ceiling. It was like I was in an insane asylum from the 1940s. I felt a deep sense of confinement and unease.
After Grim had well and truly left, I couldn’t help but to compare him with Dr. Chambers. While Grim was strict and gruff, he treated me like a pony, not just an experiment. Dr. Chambers, on the other hand, saw me as a mere subject to be studied and manipulated.
I shuffled over to the furthest corner, spun around several times before settling down. The hospital’s hoodie I still wore was my only sense of comfort. My mind raced with thoughts of escape, all of which I knew were impossible to achieve. I needed to find a way out. Grim couldn’t protect me from everything, probably not even Dr. Chambers.
As I closed my eyes, the reality of the situation set in.
I was trapped, vulnerable, and alone.
Case File 007.5: Report 7979-11101010
Report: Day One at the FacilityGrey Nick )Date: 11/10/1010
Location: EQUINE Building 4 Block C
Author: ████ ████████
Background:
Summary:
Upon arrival, the subject was greeted by our head researcher, Dr. Chambers. As of yet, it is unclear whether the subject's limited communication is a result of its young age or a deliberate attempt to conceal its intelligence. However, based on initial observations, there is reason to suspect that the subject may possess a higher level of intelligence than initially perceived.
The subject was then placed in a padded cell for the duration of its stay, where it will be monitored and studied further. Despite being a subject of experimentation, the subject was compliant although unwilling.
It should be noted that the subject appears to have developed a preference for my company over that of Dr. Chambers. This may have implications for future interactions and studies.
Further research is required to fully understand the nature of the subject's condition and the potential implications of its unique cognitive abilities.
Recommendations:
It is recommended to implement continuous observation and evaluation of the subject's psychological and emotional well-being to mitigate any potential distress or anxiety.
As the subject is a sentient being, it is recommended to have an additional staff member to ensure its proper care and attention during its stay.
Regular monitoring and oversight of Dr. Chambers' conduct towards the subject. Noted to be observational only. Any unethical or exploitative behavior on other subjects is still permitted however.
Conclusion:
Case File 008: Isolation Revisited
I was rudely awakened by the sound of depressurisation as the glass sliding door to my padded cell opened. I sat up groggily and rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my head. Dr. Chambers stood in the doorway, his horn glowing with magic as he levitated a clipboard and pen in front of him.
"Good morning, subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine," he said with a condescending tone. "Time for some basic measurements and tests."
I didn't say anything, knowing that any protest or complaint would likely fall on deaf ears. I stood up and followed him out of the cell, feeling a sense of dread wash over me.
Dr. Chambers began with simple measurements of my height, weight, and general health. As he scribbled notes on his clipboard, he muttered to himself about my abnormal cognitive abilities.
"This is fascinating," he said, more to himself than to me. "We'll have to do some more in-depth testing later."
After what felt like hours of prodding and poking, Dr. Chambers finally finished with a dismissive wave of his hoof.
"Back to your cell, subject," he commanded, tossing the clipboard onto a nearby table. "We'll continue this tomorrow."
I turned to leave, feeling the weight of the tests and Dr. Chambers' scrutiny weighing heavily on me. As I stepped back into my padded cell, I noticed that Grim was nowhere to be seen.
"Where Gwim?" I asked, but Dr. Chambers simply ignored me as he closed and locked the door behind me.
As the hours passed, I was visited in my cell by a kind-looking older mare.
“Hello, I’m Doctor Insightful Mind. I’m a behavioural specialist.” She introduced herself in a soothing voice. I noticed she didn’t address me as either a subject or by my name though.
She had a sleek, silver-coloured coat and her mane and tail were a deep shape of purple. Her mark was that of a lightbulb inside a thought bubble, probably fitting considering her occupation. She also wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.
I assumed she was here to attempt to gain insight into my grasp of language.
“Can you tell me what this object is?” Dr. Mind asked, holding up a pen.
I took a deep breath and tried my best to articulate the word I wanted to say, “P-p-p-p-p-en,” cringing at my stuttering pronunciation.
The Doctor simply nodded, and wrote something down. The next test she gave me was a large flash card with something written on it.
“Can you read this word?”
My only response I could give was to shake my head and look down, ashamed that I couldn’t read.
Dr. Mind didn’t seem to mind, “That’s okay,” she assured me, “we can move on,” she said, flipping through more cards.
I could only guess that they were trying to understand my cognitive abilities and limitations.
Next she presented me with a card with a photograph of a group of ponies working together to build a bridge. “Now, can you explain what is happening in this picture?”
Answering that question required a lot more words, so I thought to myself what words I could subtract and substitute to get the idea across. Dr. Mind saw the cogs turning in my head and wrote something down.
“P-p-po-nies b-b-buil’ bwi’ge.”
Dr. Mind smiled in affirmation at me and gave me another card, a picture of a pegasus with a sad expression.
“What might this pony be feeling in this picture?”
I attempted to answer this question with a gesture of my hooves, bringing them in front of my face below my eyes and rotating the pasterns. “S-s-a’, ‘ry.” Sad. Cry.
She seemed surprised by my attempt at sign language. I was unsure if it was the same here, but I knew she understood the general intent. Some other small questions were asked here and there, but I still struggled to articulate my thoughts into coherent words, despite knowing what I wanted to say. I understood her use of complex words, but was unable to use them myself or even complete sentences. It was frustrating not being able to fully communicate, but I tried my best.
Dr. Insightful Mind, happy and mildly surprised at my intelligence, gave me a nod and left. The glass door soon closed downward again. I went back to my corner and waited for the next intrusion.
I was left alone in my damn room again, the glass screen sealed tight behind her. I couldn’t help but feel the weight of my fucking isolation, like a physical force bearing down on me. They treated me like a child, like a fucking experiment. I couldn’t take this shit anymore. It was like they didn't even see me as a pony. I wanted to scream and punch something, but I didn't have fists. I just wanted to curse and curse and curse until my voice gave out.
I was not a child. I was a grown man trapped in the body of a pony, trapped in this facility like a prisoner. The anger and frustration boiled up inside me, threatening to burst from me. But I knew I couldn’t show them that. I had to be calm and cooperative, or they might see me as a threat.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. It wasn't easy, but I tried to focus on my breathing, on the rise and fall of my chest. It was a small comfort, but it helped a little.
I wondered how long I would be stuck here, how long I would have to endure this isolation and confinement. It felt like forever already, and it had only been a single day. I could feel myself losing my mind, and I didn't know how to stop it.
Fuck this damn facility, and fuck all these cunts who thought they knew what was best for me. I wasn’t an animal to be poked and prodded. I was a person, or at least I used to be. Now, I'm just a shell of who I used to be, trapped in this tiny room with nothing but my thoughts and memories.
I tried to hold onto the memories of my past life, but they were slipping away from me. Sometimes I felt like I was losing myself, like I was becoming more pony than human. But that was impossible, right? I was just trapped in this body, in this room, with no way out.
I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, it would be better if I was dead. At least then I wouldn't have to suffer like this, wouldn't have to feel the crushing weight of loneliness and despair every day. But I knew that wasn't the answer anymore. I had to keep fighting, keep holding on to whatever shreds of hope I had left.
But it's hard. So, so hard. And I don't know how much longer I can do it.
I paced back and forth in my small room, feeling trapped and powerless. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating me. I needed to get out of here, to escape this prison. But how? I was just a filly, and they had all the power.
I let out a frustrated snort, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't help it. I felt so alone, so powerless, so...small.
I was bored out of my mind. I've already paced around the room countless times, but there's nothing to see, nothing to do. It's just a padded cell. That's it. No books, no games, no television. Not even a bed. Just me and my thoughts.
I walk over to the glass screen and try to peer through it, but I can't see much. The angle is wrong, and the glass was frosted. All I can make out are some shapes moving around, but I can't see who or what they are.
I strain my ears, trying to make out any sounds, and I hear something. It's muffled, but I can tell it's a voice. A female voice, murmuring to herself. I press my ear against the glass and try to listen closer.
It takes a few moments, but I finally made out what she's saying. "...flying monkeys...toaster...never trust...five o'clock...where's my cheese...?"
I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion as the voice faded in and out, spouting nonsense, gibberish, and madness. The words became less distinct and less comprehensible by the moment.
Eventually, I found myself sitting in my cell, staring blankly at the padded walls. That was when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, I saw a group of scientists and orderlies carrying a small plastic cup with what looked like a tablet rattling around inside.
"What's that?" I asked, warily eyeing the cup.
"It's medication," one of the scientists replied.
"Don’ wan’," I said firmly, crossing my fetlocks over my chest.
"Please cooperate, Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine," another scientist said, his voice stern.
"No!" I shouted, leaping up and darting towards the corner of my cell. But it was too late, the staff were too quick for me. They grabbed me and held me down like I was some common household mutt. I tried to fight them off, but it was no use. They shoved the tablet down my throat. They covered my mouth and nose, forcing me to swallow. It's bitter, and I hated it. Before I can even think about biting them, they've already left. I'm left hacking, coughing, and sobbing on the floor.
I felt violated, helpless and angry. How dare they force me to take something I didn't want! Especially medication, I had no idea what I had just taken.
I tried to get up from the ground, but my head spun, and my legs refused to cooperate. I held onto the wall, trying to find some semblance of balance, but it didn't help. I heard footsteps approaching, and I looked up to see Dr. Chambers standing before me with a smug grin on his face.
"You should have taken the medication voluntarily, Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Now, you'll feel the consequences."
I try to muster a response, but the words don't come out right. My tongue feels heavy, and my thoughts are muddled. I can feel a haze creeping over me, making it hard to think.
Dr. Chambers watches me for a moment longer before turning to leave. As he walks away, I hear him chuckle softly to himself.
As I sat there on the cold, rubbery floor, I suddenly felt the world shift around me. It was as if the walls of my padded cell were closing in on me, squeezing the breath out of me. My heart started to race, pounding in my chest like a trapped animal desperate to escape. My hooves shook uncontrollably as a feeling of panic washed over me.
I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. They felt heavy and numb, as if they were made of lead. I stumbled and fell back onto the floor, feeling helpless and trapped. The room seemed to spin around me, and I felt like I was going to be sick.
I tried to call out for help, but my voice was weak and slurred. My tongue felt all numb, and I couldn't form the words I needed to ask for help. I could hear the sound of my own breathing, ragged and uneven, as if I was struggling for air.
As the minutes ticked by, the feeling of panic and helplessness intensified. It was as if I was drowning in a sea of confusion and fear, with no way to escape. I couldn't even remember why I was here, or how long I had been trapped in this padded cell.
Finally, exhausted and terrified, I lay there on the floor, waiting for the effects of whatever they had given me to wear off. But deep down, I knew that things would never be the same again.
As I slowly come to, my head throbbing and my eyes bleary, I try to recall what happened. My memories are hazy and disjointed, as if I had been dreaming or under the influence of something. It takes me a few moments to realise that I'm lying on the padded floor in the cell, and that there is a pony standing over me.
She was a unicorn with a cream-coloured coat and a mane and tail that was a mix of soft pink and lavender. Her cutie mark was a speech bubble with musical notes inside. She introduced herself as Melody Maker, a speech therapist, and told me that the staff at the facility have requested that she work with me to improve my communication skills. I gave her a half-hearted scowl and remained silent.
Melody seems unfazed and starts to explain how she can help me. "Grey, I know it's difficult for you to speak right now, but I'm here to help you. We can start with some simple exercises to get your vocal cords moving again. Just try to say 'ahhh' for me."
She at least calls me by my name, genuine enough I guess. But I can't help but wonder if she is just another one of their ploys to try and break me. Still, I give her the silent treatment, refusing to even acknowledge her presence.
I still refuse to speak, but Melody persists. "Come on, Grey. You can do it. Just one 'ahhh' sound. That's all I'm asking for."
My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, but I try to make a sound. It comes out weak and strained. Melody seems pleased, but I'm not. I don't trust her or anyone else in this place. I'm sure she's only pretending to help me.
Undeterred, Melody speaks to me in a soothing voice and asks simple questions about my day and interests, trying to put me at ease. However, I barely listen, as my mind feels hazy from the drugs they gave me, and my thoughts are jumbled. Despite her efforts, Melody realizes that I'm not cooperating and promises to return later.
As she departs, a wave of isolation and despair washes over me, leaving me alone with my tumultuous thoughts and simmering anger. Despite Melody's earlier attempts to connect with me, I am left with a sense of futility and little hope for any progress. As the door closes behind her, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she truly wanted to help me. But in this place, how can I trust anyone?
I laid down on the mattress-like floor, my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened that day. My eyelids felt heavy as I drifted off.
I’m weightless again, floating. Lost and disoriented. Blurry shapes tower over me. Humans?
They get fuzzier and fuzzier. I can't make them out.
A photograph appears, burning from the inside out.
Memories fading.
Reach out, to hold on. Hand passes through the flames.
Frustration, anger, and fear.
Darkness. Total darkness.
Someone is watching.
I jolt awake, heart racing. How long have I been asleep? Hours? Days? It's impossible to tell in this place. I stretch out my limbs, feeling the stiffness in my joints.
I stand up and pace around my cell, examining every inch of the dirty cream walls. There's nothing new to see, nothing that can give me any clues as to where I am or why I'm here.
I glance up at one of the top corners and see a camera staring back at me. My stomach drops as my ears fold back and a feeling of paranoia washes over me. Are they watching me right now? Are they listening to my every move and thought?
I force myself to swallow the feeling and look away, continuing to pace. I need to keep my mind occupied, to avoid spiralling into panic.
What do they want from me? What did I do to deserve this? What if this pony had a life before me? What if it had its own thoughts, feelings, memories? Did I take over someone else's body? Am I a thief, a usurper? The thought of it fills me with guilt and dread. Was this why I was being punished?
I need to stay focused, to find a way out of here. But first, I need to figure out where "here" is.
I flinched at the sound of the door opening, and Grim Reminder walked in. "Good afternoon," he said in his deep voice.
"Af-ter-n-noon," I repeated, struggling with the hard syllables. I tried to sit up and appear strong.
"You need to do as you’re told," Grim said, his expression unreadable.
"I-I-I t-twy," I stuttered, feeling frustrated with my own inability to form the proper words.
Grim sighed. "I understand this must be difficult for you, but it's important that we get accurate information." He knelt down, to my level. "We're trying to help you." I noticed a flicker of warmth in his eyes, hidden beneath the usual cold exterior. It was a brief moment, but it gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could trust him.
I tried to explain what had happened, but my speech impediment made it hard to form the words. Grim listened patiently, but I could tell he didn't fully understand.
"I'll look into it," he said finally. "In the meantime, please try to cooperate with us. It's for your own good… Grey."
And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me feeling even more hopeless and alone than before.
Case File 009: Alone in the Dark
My day began with a painful wake-up call—a sharp kick to my ribs.
“Get up.” One of the orderlies, a large stallion, barked at me. I didn't dare look up at him, but I could feel his impatience.
I slowly made my way to the door, but apparently not fast enough for the orderly's liking, as I received another kick.
“Oi.” I growled at him.
My reward for such a brazen display of resistance was to be zapped by some sort of taser stick. The pain was excruciating, like lightning coursing through my bones. I wanted to snap at him, but didn’t want a second zap.
The orderly nudged me again, prompting me to keep walking. Walking right into the white chest of the one pony I never wanted to see again, Dr. Test Chambers. I felt the orderly's legs behind me, blocking my retreat.
The mad Doctor towered over me. His presence sent shivers down my spine, setting off every flight response.
“Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine,” he addressed me condescendingly, “we are going to have some fun today.”
I didn’t like his idea of fun, whatever it’d be. I wanted to go back into my cell. I wanted Grim; he made me feel safe. As much as that sounded like Stockholm Syndrome, it was true.
“Prep operating room number three Iron Hoof.” He instructed the orderly behind me.
I turned back to look at the one who woke me so violently. He seemed completely mute as he just nodded and walked off. He was a brutish individual, that much was certain. He had a scruffy black mane and tail that appeared to have never seen a comb. His coat was a dark brown, almost black, and he was covered in scars and blemishes. I couldn’t make out his eyes, but I bet they were beady little specks filled with disdain.
I then turned my attention back to the despicable Dr. Chambers. “I will be conducting some necessary tests,” he began, “you can either cooperate or resist.” He then leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice, “I do hope you resist. It will make your pain all the more...pleasurable.”
My blood boiled with anger. I wanted nothing more than to exact revenge upon him, to tear him limb from limb.
But Grim told me to behave. So, suppressing my rage, I swallowed what little pride I had, and begrudgingly followed the doctor to Operating Room No. 3.
Of course, I was hesitant to give into any of this sick cunt’s demands. But what other choice did I have? Be tasered again? No thanks.
Forced to comply, I entered the room. Looking around I noticed that this wasn’t exactly a sterile environment, some of this equipment looked like it still had blood on it. I grimaced and pushed down the lump in my throat.
“Take a seat right here,” Dr. Chambers sneered, pointing to a large metal reclined operating table.
I didn’t want to. I wanted to be in my cell. My cell was safe.
“Ow!” I yelled at Iron Hoof, who was at my side with his taser stick. Miserable oaf. Not wanting to be electrified a third time now, I hopped on the table. It took me a while as it was higher than I thought it would be. Plus no one helped me up.
Once I was up, I heard a metallic sound and noticed restraints popping up from the sides of the table, quickly moving towards me and locking me in place. The cold metal bit into my skin, sending shivers down my spine as I realized the gravity of the situation.
“Wha-” I started to protest, before a hoof found its way into my mouth.
Don’t bite down, don’t bite down. I had to mentally tell myself.
“Pliers.” I heard Dr. Chambers instruct his offsider.
Pliers? What were they gonna do? Rip out a tooth? I panicked.
I started to close my mouth around the Doctor’s hoof in my mouth, but other hooves came out of nowhere and held my mouth open.
This is gross, too many hooves in my mouth. I struggled against my restraints as much as I could. Something that would probably please that sick fuck.
I felt cold metal against my gums. No, please no. The pair of pliers grasping a back tooth. No, I didn’t want this to happen.
Rip. I felt a sharp, searing pain as the tooth was wrenched from my gums, a sickening sensation of something tearing away from the bone.
My tooth was gone. I tried to scream out in pain as loud as I could, but all I could manage was a strained and muffled sound. The full force of my scream was held back by the foreign obstruction in my mouth. I let out a high-pitched wail, added with the tightness of my very fear.
Just as quickly as my mouth was violated, the many hooves were gone. I tried looking up but my eyes were now blurry from the new tears forming. My body was shaking, I sniffled a sob back inside me.
Tears streamed down my face as I trembled in the cold metal restraints, my body too numb with shock to struggle or resist.
Through blurred vision, I spied the form of Dr. Chambers. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I knew he’d be smiling, reveling in my suffering. Blinking away my tears, my suspicion was proved correct.
“What’s next will hurt even more,” he sneered. He really was a mad scientist. Dr. Chambers turned around to grab something from his medical tray, while I continued to fear for my safety and sanity.
I didn’t like this pain. I wanted it to stop. I wanted Grim.
As I watched in horror, Dr. Chambers approached me with an ominous-looking instrument in hand. It was a T-shaped device with a long, thick needle attached to it. I could feel my heart racing in my chest as I realized what he intended to do. I had never seen anything like it before, but I knew it was going to be excruciatingly painful. The needle was thick and menacing, and I could already imagine the searing pain as it pierced through my skin and into my bone.
Iron Hoof grabbed my right back leg with his large, rough hooves, and I felt a sharp twinge of pain shoot up my spine. The wound where the Timberwolf had bitten me was still raw and throbbing, but neither he nor Dr. Chambers seemed to care. Despite my wince of pain, they continued with their task, callous to my discomfort.
Just as I had feared, the needle was plunged into my hind leg, directly into the bone. I let out a scream, but the only sound that came out was a gurgled mess due to the blood in my mouth. I wanted to spit right in both their faces, but with the risk of contamination, I quickly retracted the thought. As the bone marrow was extracted, the pain became unbearable, and I felt like my leg was on fire. I could no longer feel it, and the numbness spread throughout my body.
I could feel my heart racing and my breath coming in short gasps. The leg from which the bone marrow had been extracted felt numb, as if it didn't belong to me anymore. It was a strange sensation, and I didn't know if it was temporary or permanent. All I knew was that I wanted it to stop, wanted to be free from the agony.
My anger and hatred towards Iron Hoof and Dr. Chambers grew even more with each passing moment. How dare they do this to me? I felt disgusted and infuriated, wishing that I could lash out at them with all the strength I had left. I knew I couldn't, not yet anyway. But I swore to myself that one day I would make them pay for what they had done to me.
The worst was far from over as Dr. Chambers deactivated the restraints that had held me to the table. He turned to Iron Hoof and barked out an order.
"Flip it," he said.
Iron Hoof's rough grip pulled me off the table and flipped me onto my stomach. The cold, hard metal surface made my face numb. My heart rate quickened and my fear tripled as I heard a loud ripping sound. They had torn the hoodie that Helping had given me right up the middle.
"No!" I cried out, fresh tears streaming down my face.
The restraints reappeared and held me down as I writhed and squirmed, trying anything to escape, but they bit into my skin with a fierce grip.
My body flinched as Dr. Chambers whispered in my ear, "This next part will hurt more than the last," his hoof gripping the back of my neck tightly.
As I lay there, sniffling and unable to come up with a retort, my attention was drawn to the sound of a hoof clinking against metal. What would they extract next?
With my back exposed and my body tense, there was only one option left—one that I knew would be more painful than anything I had already endured.
But then, there was a surprising pause. I waited for the anticipated pain, but instead heard the sound of clippers. They were going to shave me first? The thought left me feeling utterly exposed and defenseless.
As a hoof traced the shape of my spine, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with each passing vertebra. I could feel the hoof stopping short of my tailbone, tracing back up only a short distance before tapping lightly on my lower spine.
That was where he would start. With a small section of the surrounding area shaved, I braced myself for the inevitable pain to come.
The pain was excruciating, as the cold, sharp metal was being plunged into the soft tissue of my back. The needle seemed to hit a resistance on the way in, intensifying the agony. My head felt like it was being split in two, and a scream escaped my throat before a wooden bar was shoved into my mouth, muffling my cries of pain.
Dr. Chambers pushed the needle in even further, and I writhed, screamed, and cried, but my struggles were futile. The wood in my mouth couldn't withstand the pressure of my clenching teeth, and I spit out the splinters and blood as I continued to wail.
A large hoof covered my mouth, and in a moment of desperation, I bit down as hard as I could. I tried to hold back, hoping Grim would understand, but the agony was too much to bear.
Fluid was extracted from the intrusion in my spine and the pressure decreased and alleviated as the needle was removed. The hoof that covered my mouth was also lifted, though not without a struggle as I had bitten down hard on it. Iron Hoof probably wasn't pleased, but I couldn't care less.
My body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve in my being was screaming with pain. I could no longer focus on what they had just done to me anymore, I was consumed by the agony. All I wanted was for it to stop, for someone to make it stop.
My vision was blurry with tears and my breathing was ragged as I struggled to control my sobs. I felt so vulnerable and exposed, stripped of all dignity and my remaining humanity. The thought of being reduced to nothing more than a lab experiment was almost too much to bear.
But amidst the pain and despair, a flicker of defiance burned within me. I refused to let them break me, to let them win. I would survive this, no matter what they did to me.
Hoofsteps then receded away from me. They just left me hooked up to this table face down, the bastards.
Several minutes passed, then half an hour, and finally a full hour until someone returned to the room.
I judged from the weight of the hoofsteps, that is was Dr. Chambers. I was proven correct when he started speaking. “Well, well, well. You just keep getting more and more fascinating the more I learn about you.” he seemed pleased with himself.
My restraints keeping me facedown were then deactivated, much to my surprise. I turned myself around, despite pain wracking my body. Dr. Chambers stood a respectable distance away now, although I still backed up on the table as much as I could without falling off. I ignored the pain in my spine and leg, which was now bleeding again from the bite wound.
Dr. Chambers waited with unsettling patience until I made eye contact with him before speaking again.
“The test results I got back from what I extracted proved a theory I had about your origins,” I sensed a long tangent coming on, “you see, we’ve developed something called the Soul Resonance Chamber, or SRC for short, a revolutionary piece of equipment that sought to push the boundaries of science and magic.
It functioned by using a complex system of magical crystals and alchemic machinery to pull recently deceased souls from the aether and fit them into bodies before they expired. The process was extremely delicate and required an enormous amount of power, both magical and mechanical, to achieve. At first, we attempted the feat on Equestrian souls, but unfortunately, the new bodies couldn't last longer than six months. So we widened our radius, and through some unknown miracle, it seemed to work.
However, the signal for the retrieved soul was lost over the Everfree Forest. That was twelve months ago, we deemed the project a failure as the subject was never recovered.” he trailed off on the last sentence, looking directly at me.
Was he suggesting that I was the result of this SRC experiment? “Me?” I queried.
“Yes, we believe it to be you. Initially only theorising such a thing, however after several tests I’ve come to the conclusion that you are in fact the experiment. Testing the strontium in your teeth revealed no Equestrian counterpart at all, some of your cell counts are vastly different from a normal Equestrian pony also. Your chromosome count is also something to behold, forty-six, as opposed to the usual sixty-four. By all accounts, you are an anomaly that shouldn’t exist.” He revealed. I could tell he was completely unapologetic on how he acquired such results.
“And?” I pushed, butchering the end of the word.
“It means that you are from another world entirely, and therefore are not bound by our natural laws of magic.” Dr. Chambers announced in a crazed voice, taking a few steps closer.
My mind raced with the implications of what Dr. Chambers was saying. "What you want?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Chambers smiled, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. "We want to use you. Use you to discover the secrets of immortality and ascension into Alicornhood. With your unique DNA and the power of the SRC, we can unlock the secrets of the universe."
A chill ran down my spine as I looked into Dr. Chambers' eyes. I knew then that I had to find a way out, no matter the cost.
Before I was led back into my cell, Dr. Chambers gave me other results from the testing. Something about being negative for Equine Protozoal Myeloencephalitis and not showing signs of any degenerative cell conditions. Information free of charge. Funnily enough, I was found to have low levels of iron.
I retreated into the far corner of the padded cell, wrapping the ripped scraps of my hoodie around me, with no idea what my fate might be. I knew I was from another world, and I couldn't help but feel angry that they had to go to such lengths to figure it out for themselves.
After spitting out the blood that had pooled in my mouth again, I tried to calm my racing thoughts, focusing on my breathing as I tried my best to hug my knees to my chest. I couldn't let them use me for their experiments, no matter what they promised me. But how could I escape? The cell was padded, the door was locked, and the vents were too small for me to fit through.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to come up with a plan. I couldn't give up hope. I had to keep fighting, no matter how dire the situation seemed. Throughout this, I still felt hopelessly alone.
Case File 010: Voices in the Silence
I laid in my cell, my body battered and bloodied. The metallic tang of my own blood was all I could taste. I couldn't even muster a sob; my spirit was crushed and trust obliterated. It was just another torment in the endless cycle of suffering within this sterile, unforgiving place.
When the door to my cell creaked open, my ears perked up, but I didn't move. My tired eyes watched Grim Reminder's entrance with wary suspicion. In the brief amount of time I’d seen him around Grim always wore a mask of indifference, his face a stoic veneer, but for a fleeting moment, his eyes betrayed a hint of genuine concern.
“Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine.” He announced my designation looking directly at me. What happened to calling me my name?
I sat up but retreated a bit into the nearest corner. Grim took a step closer, his gaze briefly dropping to the blood-soaked floor before returning to my face.
"You've been subjected to further testing," he stated matter-of-factly, as if recounting a routine procedure. His voice remained detached, but there was something behind his piercing green eyes. Emotion.
“Celestia damn it, he went too far this time.” He cursed, admitting defeat after a moment.
Had that doctor subjected others to this same treatment? The mere thought horrified me, and the realization that my ordeal was possibly the worst intensified my dread. Was Celestia considered their deity?
I noticed Grim's gaze fixating on the congealed blood that had run down my rear right leg, and I instantly grasped the assumptions forming in his mind. Though words failed me to articulate the horror of my recent experience, I shook my head, attempting to convey to Grim that his worst imaginings were unfounded. He didn't press for further details; instead, he focused on offering whatever comfort he could in that moment.
“You require medical attention.” He announced after a while, his voice different, less monotone.
As he turned to leave, panic surged within me; I didn't want him to go. Desperation took over as I extended my front hooves, emitting only a squeak from my lips. Despite the rising warmth in my face, I chose to ignore it.
“I’ll come back. I promise.” The corners of his mouth almost turned up, not quite a smile but still comforting.
As the opaque glass door of my cell closed, I heard Grim pressing buttons on the control pad. These were more beeps than the other times. The only thing I could hope for was that he was reconfiguring the passcode. I don’t think I could deal with even seeing that doctor again. Him or his brutish orderly either.
Twenty minutes later, the door to my cell opened again, and a team of medical staff entered, their expressions a mix of professionalism and detached efficiency. One of the nurses carried a medical kit, while another pushed a small cart with various instruments.
They approached me cautiously, as if I were a frightened animal. I remained huddled in the corner, my eyes wide with a mixture of fear and pain. The nurse with the medical kit knelt down beside me, her voice calm but distant. She was an off white with an even paler pastel blue mane, held back by a scrunchie but threatening to break out and flow freely.
"Hello, Seven-Ni–” She stopped and looked down at some note held up by one of the others, “–Grey. My name is Healing Touch. We're here to help you. Can you let us take a look at your injuries?"
I managed a hesitant nod, my trust in medical professionals hanging by a fragile thread. But I appreciated her not referring to me by a number. Healing Touch carefully examined my mouth, the wound on my leg, and the other areas that Dr. Test Chambers had subjected to his cruel experiments. She exchanged glances with her colleagues, silently communicating the severity of my condition.
"Alright, we'll start by cleaning and treating your injuries," Healing explained, her tone gentle. Another nurse began to clean the wound on my leg, while the third prepared a syringe with pain medication. The antiseptic stung, and I winced in pain, but I tried to endure it without protest.
As the medical team worked, they maintained a steady stream of quiet conversation, discussing the extent of the damage and the necessary treatments. Their professionalism provided a stark contrast to the brutality I had experienced earlier.
Once the immediate injuries were addressed, Healing spoke again. "We'll need to monitor you closely over the next few days. If you experience any unusual symptoms or worsening pain, let us know immediately."
I nodded weakly, still unable to articulate my thoughts clearly. The medical team gathered their equipment and prepared to leave, but before they exited the cell, Healing Touch cast a compassionate glance in my direction.
"We're here to help, Grey. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything."
As they departed, leaving me alone once more, a mix of gratitude and skepticism lingered in my battered mind. The medical treatment was a small comfort, but the scars, both physical and emotional, ran deep. I wondered if anyone, even those offering help, could truly understand the torment I had just endured at the hooves of the mad doctor.
After a while, my personal musings were once again interrupted, this time by the behavioral and speech therapists. What were their names again? Melody Mind and Insight Maker? That didn't sound right. Melody Maker and Insightful Mind, I recalled correctly as they approached me together.
They proceeded to ask me the same questions as before, one after the other. "How are you feeling? What does this say? Tell me about the scars? Can you count to ten for me?" I really didn't feel like dignifying their dumb questions with proper answers. Most of my responses were conveyed through shrugs or grunts.
Where was Grim? He said he'd come back. Speaking of which, here he was entering my cell. However, he didn't look amused.
"Grey," he addressed me casually, "you need to cooperate." He was chastising me. Looking down shamefully, my tail curled inward.
"Too many," I mumbled.
"Speak up and look me in the eye."
Meeting his gaze, I felt a tear forming but held strong.
"Two too many. One a time," I managed.
He simply nodded, looked at Dr. Insightful Mind, and uttered one word, "Out."
The behavioral therapist quickly retreated, leaving me with Dr. Melody Maker. Grim Reminder's eyes fell on me again, though they weren't all cold anymore.
"Good?" he asked, as briefly as possible.
I nodded in response, and his reply was the same word he had just said. Then he turned and left.
Over the span of what I assumed was a week, the speech therapist patiently unraveled the complexities of what she called the Equestrian language with me. Recognizing my struggle, Melody demonstrated the proper tongue placements and articulations for various sounds, guiding me through the unfamiliar terrain of pronunciation. Through her patient repetition and gentle encouragement, she coaxed me into a more fluent expression.
Despite the language barrier, Melody's persistent efforts bore fruit as my speech gradually became more cohesive. The once-jumbled words found a rhythm, and I, though still grappling with the nuances of communication, began to navigate the Equestrian language with a growing sense of familiarity. This transformative process, a testament to Melody's expertise and my resilience, marked a significant milestone in our ongoing sessions.
I had achieved basic fluency, though the ponies around me couldn't help but notice a peculiar accent in my speech, both intriguing and bemusing them. Something about distinct inflections following my sentences and such. If I could remember where I came from, I'd know it myself, but for now, it'll remain a mystery for everyone, or "everypony," as I'd since learned.
Certain linguistic choices in Equestrian made me cringe; I didn't appreciate how many terms sounded overly girly and childish. I had also since started learning their alphabet, it consisted of twenty-six letters much like what I was used to before. Each character stood with a distinctive poise, the lines and angles formed a curious dance on the page. There was an unfamiliar charm to the letters, each one telling a silent tale of a language I gradually embraced.
Grim Reminder had not visited me during this time, which left me feeling somewhat down. On the flip side, that mad doctor hadn't shown up either, and that was a relief. I reasoned that Grim was likely occupied with his duties, burdened by paperwork and other responsibilities. With my newfound ability to speak Equestrian, I longed for him to praise my progress.
Huddled in the corner of my cell, I observed Grim's entrance, his expression revealing no emotion. The flame of achievement, fueled by my improved language skills, sought recognition. "Grim," I ventured, my voice carrying unsteady confidence, "I can speak good now."
He regarded me impassively, a silence stretching between us. Finally, his monotone voice broke the stillness. "Good."
The simplicity of his response stung, but I pressed on. "Did I do well?"
Grim's eyes flickered, a subtle shift in his usual indifference. "Yes. Well done."
His words were measured, lacking the warmth I craved. Yet, in that clinical acknowledgment, I sensed a rare approval. I had breached a barrier, and though his demeanor remained stoic, a glimmer of connection lingered in the air. My chest warmed at the little praise he offered, but it was praise nonetheless.
After delivering his message, Grim Reminder turned and left. He mentioned something about the behavioral therapist visiting me tomorrow, but I wasn't paying too much attention.
Left alone in my cell once again, a subtle shift occurred within me. It felt as though I had found someone who could dispel the loneliness. The desire to be around Grim Reminder grew strong; he provided a sense of safety and companionship that kept the isolation at bay.
Author's Note
Sorry for the short chapter, but I needed to put something out. My mental health went real down for a couple of months, real bad. I'm going to try and steer away from my originally planned dark and depressing chapters because writing those doesn't help. I'm going to try and do some time skipping also, so stay tuned.
Case File 011: Unfathomable Hunger
On the tenth day, I stirred from what could pass for a relatively peaceful slumber, given the ongoing circumstances. The previous week had offered little reprieve between intensive language learning sessions. In the rare moments of rest, I found myself lost in contemplation. With each passing day, fragments of my memories slipped away, leaving behind a blurred recollection of a past life as a human male. The old name had faded, replaced entirely by Grey Nick, a moniker I had fully embraced.
Occasionally, my gaze fixated on the self-inflicted scars adorning the inner side of my front right fetlock. The pain was a vivid memory, but the reason behind such actions remained elusive. A sense of depression and hints of a past struggle with suicidal thoughts lingered in my mind. The motive behind those scars seemed murky, a puzzle I couldn't quite piece together.
As I redirected my thoughts from that dark abyss, they gravitated towards Grim Reminder. I couldn't help but recall the sharp angles of Grim's features, giving his face a chiseled and defined look. His charcoal coat held a sleekness that spoke of well-groomed care, contrasting with the unkempt wildness of my own. His eyes, though usually stern, had a depth that made me wonder about the emotions hidden beneath. I found myself drawn to the strong, silent presence he exuded, a curious mix of intimidation and comfort.
The mere contemplation of him sent warmth flushing to my face; he was a source of safety in this disorienting environment. Yet, the complexity of my emotions towards him remained a mystery. Romance seemed implausible, given the substantial age gap – he was at least fifteen years my senior. Besides, my pre-existing inclinations were clear: I wasn't into guys. Moreover, there was no stirring of emotions in other aspects when thoughts of him occupied my mind.
These musings were interrupted by the entrance of a familiar silver mare: Insightful Mind, the behavioral therapist. Her deep purple mane looked freshly washed, a contrast to my unkempt appearance.
"Good morning," she said, double-checking my name in her notes. "Grey." I sat up a little straighter to convey some semblance of manners. "How are we doing today?"
In the most unenthusiastic start to a session, I replied, "Alright, I guess," with a nonchalant shrug. Now that I could speak the language, I wanted to answer everything verbally. My response wasn't much of an answer, but her question wasn't much of a question. I wanted to cooperate so Grim would praise me, but she had already started to annoy me.
Her first real question came, "How did you generally cope with stress or difficult situations?" as she adjusted her glasses.
This caught me off guard; my current coping mechanism was crying, but there used to be something else. Not illegal, but perhaps frowned upon.
"I wasn’t sure," was the best I could offer. "I used to do something, but…I didn’t remember."
"You don’t remember?" Insightful pressed, jotting something down before moving on. "What activities or hobbies brought you a sense of comfort or joy?"
These questions were terrible. I didn't dignify that one with a response. Enjoyment in this facility? Idiot. My scowl prompted her to move on.
"Can you describe a time recently when you felt genuinely happy or content?"
"Next," I scowled again.
"How did you navigate through uncertainty or the unknown?"
"Hope for the best, next." Ask me a good question.
"What aspects of your current environment did you find calming or distressing?" Insightful appeared more nervous as my refusal to engage properly continued.
I persisted.
"Are there any particular Equestrian customs or traditions you found interesting or confusing?" she asked, adjusting her glasses.
This question intrigued me. "Saying ‘somepony’ and not ‘someone’ and the marks on your butts. And who’s Celestia?"
Insightful chuckled softly at my response, finding humor in my observation. "Yes, the use of 'somepony' is a common linguistic quirk here in Equestria. As for the marks on our flanks, those are called cutie marks. They represented a pony's special talent or skill, each one unique and holding personal meaning. Its a phenomenon observed for generations, a way ponies expressed individuality and contributions to the community. Now, about Celestia, she is the benevolent ruler of Equestria, a powerful and wise Alicorn who raises the sun and governs with harmony and friendship."
Celestia's supposed power over the sun fascinated and terrified me in equal measure. The idea of someone controlling such a cosmic force filled me with awe and fear. As I reflected on my imprisonment, an irrational fear crept in, perhaps Celestia was involved in EQUINE. Maybe she was in charge, personally ordered my abduction.
"But why 'somepony' and not 'someone'? Wasn't 'somepony' excluding others?" I shot back, shaking myself out of an axienty loop.
Insightful nodded, acknowledging my question. "That's an interesting perspective. 'Somepony' emphasizes the unity and shared experiences among the inhabitants of Equestria. It doesn't exclude others but reflects the close-knit nature of our communities. It's a linguistic choice that evolved into a cultural norm. We still consider and value inclusion, but 'somepony' has become a unique part of our language, encompassing the diverse species that call Equestria home."
I guess that made sense.
Before asking her next question, I heard Insightful audibly gulp. “What were your thoughts on Dr. Test Chambers and his actions?”
He could go to hell. My fur on the back of my neck stood on end, and I bared my ultra-sharp teeth at Insightful. "Get out." I growled.
The scared therapist wasted no time, leaving the room in a hurry, papers spilling as she went. She tried to pick them up, but my intense stare kept her moving.
As the door shut behind her, I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding, calming myself down. I let my anger get the better of me; maybe that was a human personality trait that lingered. Frustration set in as I grappled with memories that remained elusive.
Something else then growled; it was my stomach. Unsurprising, since I’d been there for a little over a week. Such time between meals hadn’t worried me when me and Mama lived in the Everfree, as it would be about the amount of time between hunts anyway. I did miss Mama, although I felt sorry for that lieutenant I bit. Skywing, I recalled. Thinking about my teeth sinking into her flesh and ripping a part off instinctively made me run my tongue along the outside of my sharp predatory teeth.
I needed meat, craved it even. I was too nervous to ask for it directly, though. After several more moments, I gained the courage to approach my door. I knocked a couple of times on the opaque door. What I thought was glass didn’t sound like it, so it had to be some kind of thick plexiglass.
“Um, excuse me?” I called out, getting no response. I pressed on with my request. “I’m hungry.”
Still nothing, but I had asked, so I walked back to my favorite corner and sat down on my haunches.
The sound of mechanical whirring caught my attention, and I turned towards the front wall. To my surprise, a small section slid open, revealing a tray of food. Hope surged within me as I approached it eagerly. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.
As I got closer, my excitement waned. The tray held an array of greens and vegetables, a sight that made my nose crinkle in disgust. I hesitated, torn between hunger and my instincts. I couldn't deny the scent of the food wafting towards me, but my body craved something substantial.
Not wanting to appear ungrateful, I reluctantly took a few bites of different items. Each mouthful felt foreign and unsatisfying. The textures were off, and the flavors clashed with my carnivorous palate. I tried to force myself to eat, but nothing tasted right.
"Fuck is this?" I muttered, the words escaping between clenched teeth. The vegetables crunched unappetizingly in my mouth.
With each forced bite, my frustration grew. This diet couldn't sustain me; I needed meat. The vegetables were a poor substitute for the nourishment my body craved. My stomach churned in protest, and I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness.
Finally, unable to tolerate it any longer, I turned my nose up at the remaining food and kicked the bowl away. The clang echoed in the sterile cell. I retreated to my corner, feeling a mix of disappointment and defiance. Either they give me meat or I starve first.
I awoke to another day, my stomach growling ominously. The hunger had become a constant companion, gnawing at me relentlessly. Days blurred together, and the trays of food that slid into my cell offered no reprieve. I approached each meal with a flicker of hope, only to be met with disappointment.
Still nothing but greens, the vegetarian fare left me unsatisfied and increasingly weak. Although initially not wanting to eat any of it I forced myself to the point of making myself sick. The last meal I ate I regurgitated, acidic bile followed it burning my esophagus.
I couldn't shake the feeling of lethargy settling into my bones. My limbs felt heavy, and my movements became sluggish. I tried to convince myself it was a temporary setback, that I could adapt to this foreign sustenance. But deep down, I knew I was wilting away.
As the days passed, frustration gave way to delusion. My mind played tricks on me, whispering that Grim no longer cared, that he reveled in my suffering. The irrational thoughts spiraled, and paranoia took root. I started questioning the motives of those around me, wondering if I was being deliberately subjected to this torturous diet.
I longed for Grim's presence, a reassurance that he hadn't abandoned me. But the days stretched on, and his visits became scarce. The flicker of hope that accompanied the sound of approaching hooves diminished, leaving me in a state of perpetual uncertainty.
Nausea still clawed at my insides, the physical manifestation of my body's rejection of the imposed diet. The once-familiar ache of hunger transformed into a relentless, sickening torment. I curled up in my corner, the cold walls of the cell pressing in on me.
The world outside my enclosure seemed to blur, and the illusion of indifference haunted my thoughts. I couldn't discern reality from delusion, and the vegetative prison threatened to consume not just my body but my sanity. Fatigue draped over me, pulling my eyelids down as I blinked slowly, the world blurring into a haze. The absence of Grim intensified, and the weariness magnified the sense of abandonment.
Author's Note
Bam, another one. Still short but I want to get as much as I can out to make up for lost time.
The world around me swirled in a disorienting dance of shadows and muted colors. My vision, still clouded and blurry, struggled to make sense of the indistinct shape that was approaching me in the darkness. As consciousness flickered back to life, I became aware of a presence approaching—a sinister silhouette that cut through the obscurity.
The white coat of Dr. Test Chambers materialized in the dimness, a chilling sight that sent a shiver down my spine. His maniacal grin, etched in the gloom, hinted at the malevolence that lay within. I lay there, vulnerable and weakened, the aftermath of his cruel machinations. It was a status he himself had meticulously engineered.
“I see my new diet for you worked wonders.”
The mad doctor loomed over me, reveling in the power he held over my feeble form. His hoof probed my mouth, a grotesque intrusion that left me gasping for breath. I winced as his touch lingered, tracing the contours of my teeth.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Dr. Test Chambers' voice dripped with a twisted fascination as he examined my regrown tooth. "Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Your resilience is quite astonishing, my dear Grey."
His glee echoed through the cell as he marveled at the tooth he had callously ripped away just days ago. The sinister delight in his tone sent a shiver down my spine, the mad doctor reveling in the macabre spectacle of my regeneration. I remained silent, a simmering resentment brewing beneath the surface, as the mad doctor continued his grotesque examination.
My helplessness fueled his sadistic pleasure, each moment a cruel reminder of the power he wielded within these cushioned walls. Dr. Test Chambers, seemingly entranced by the peculiar marvel of my regrown tooth, reveled in the twisted dance of dominance and submission that played out in the dimness of the cell.
My consciousness, a flickering flame in the oppressive darkness, gained clarity in increments. A whimper escaped my lips, a pathetic acknowledgment of the helplessness that enveloped me. Dr. Test Chambers, undeterred by my feeble resistance, continued his degrading inspection. With his hoof still in my mouth, I seized the opportunity to retaliate. I bit down hard, a desperate act of defiance that elicited a curse from the mad doctor.
The taste of copper flooded my senses as I broke through the thin barrier of his skin. A metallic tang lingered on my tongue, a bitter reminder of the brutality inflicted upon me. Blood, warm and pulsating, mingled with my own saliva. In that moment, I savored the primitive satisfaction of drawing blood, a small victory against the tormentor who reveled in my suffering.
Dr. Test Chambers recoiled, his expletives echoing in the cell. The trickle of blood escaped the confines of my mouth, staining the pristine floor beneath. It was a fleeting taste of power, a brief surge of defiance that fueled the ember of resistance within me. Yet, even in this small act of rebellion, I couldn't escape the looming reality of my vulnerability.
"Fucking brat!" Test Chambers snarled, his face contorted in rage as he swatted me away. The sharp sting of his retaliation left me momentarily stunned, but beneath the pain, a spark of defiance flickered. The brief liquid meal sustained me enough for me to regain my senses.
Resentment festered within me—an intense, all-consuming hatred for the one who reveled in my suffering. Yet, intertwined with the loathing was a gnawing anxiety, a deep-seated fear that wrapped its tendrils around my psyche. Dr. Test Chambers wielded a power over me that transcended the physical, leaving me emotionally battered and stripped of agency.
Amidst the darkness, a sudden intrusion shattered the eerie quiet. The frantic entrance of Grim Reminder, my unexpected savior, disrupted the twisted scene. He rushed to my side, a formidable figure in the dimly lit cell, his cold eyes ablaze with a fervor I had not witnessed before.
Grim confronted Dr. Test Chambers, the air crackling with tension. The mad doctor, momentarily taken aback, found himself on the receiving end of Grim's wrath. A powerful punch square to the jaw sent a resounding message—back off.
The punch landed with a satisfying thud, the sound reverberating through the sterile confines of the cell. Dr. Test Chambers staggered backward, his grip on authority slipping for a fleeting moment. Shock painted across his face, a testament to the unexpected defiance he faced.
Astonishment seized me. The stoic and detached Grim, who had been a constant enigma, had unleashed a forceful blow against the tormentor. Dr. Test Chambers clutched his bleeding nose, a crimson stream escaping around his hoof, the very same one I’d bitten. It was a visceral display of power, a counterbalance to the relentless cruelty that had marked my days in this clinical nightmare.
As Grim stood resolute between me and the mad doctor, a newfound awareness dawned upon me. There, amidst the chaos, was a protector—a figure who defied the cruelty that sought to define my existence within these walls. Grim's unexpected act of defiance sparked a glimmer of hope, a fragile ember flickering in the darkness of my despair.
“Leave her alone.” Blunt and to the point.
In the midst of the confrontation, words were exchanged—sharp, biting, and laden with unspoken threats. "You'll regret this, Grim," Test Chambers sneered, rubbing his bruised jaw. "I'll make sure of it."
Grim's gaze remained unwavering, his cold eyes fixed on the retreating figure of the mad doctor. "Stay away from her," he warned again, the words carrying a weight that resonated within the confines of the cell.
As Dr. Test Chambers slinked away, nursing both his bruised jaw and wounded ego, Grim turned to face me. The transformation in his gaze was palpable—an evolution of sentiments that mirrored the shifting currents within my own turbulent emotions. Tentatively, I leaned against his foreleg, a silent gesture of gratitude and vulnerability.
"Are you okay, Grey?" Grim's voice, usually detached and measured, held a hint of concern. His question, simple yet loaded, hung in the air. His face held a look of uncertainty, unused to physical contact, moreso that of a child.
I nodded, unable to find my voice just yet. The whirlwind of emotions left me speechless, my gratitude mingling with the lingering fear that Dr. Test Chambers had planted deep within.
Grim's gaze softened, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken bond forged in the crucible of adversity. "I won't let anything happen to you," he assured, the solemnity of his promise echoing in the dimness.
With a whispered promise, Grim stood vigil, an enigmatic figure in the shadows. The cell, witness to the clash of malevolence and defiance, cradled me in its sterile embrace. In the aftermath of the confrontation, a fragile sense of security unfolded—a respite within the confines of uncertainty.
Time seemed to stretch in the eerie quiet that followed, the cell a haven of fragile calm. I remained huddled against Grim's foreleg, seeking solace in the proximity of the one who had, in that moment, become my protector. The internal tempest of emotions swirled within me, a maelstrom of fear, gratitude, and an unspoken connection with the enigmatic Grim.
Grim's eyes, usually veiled in detachment, carried a weight I couldn't quite decipher. His stoic demeanor wavered for a moment, replaced by a fleeting expression that hinted at a complexity beneath the surface. I felt a sense of reassurance in his presence, a stark contrast to the malevolence that had tainted the cell moments ago.
In the midst of the quiet, Grim broke the silence. "I'll make sure you're safe," he murmured, a vow that resonated with a sincerity I hadn't expected. His words, simple yet profound, held the weight of a promise that transcended the confines of our shared reality.
The cell, once a sterile and indifferent enclosure, felt different now—a sanctuary where a silent understanding unfolded. The events that had unfolded, the clash of wills and the emergence of Grim as a guardian, left an indelible mark on the fabric of our shared existence.
As the minutes ticked by, the cell remained cloaked in shadows, the only illumination emanating from the faint glow of the overhead light. Grim's presence became a steadfast anchor in the midst of the unknown, his silent vigil a testament to a commitment forged in the crucible of adversity.
Grim's gaze, a paradoxical blend of cold detachment and newfound warmth, met mine. "You should get some rest," he suggested, his tone carrying a gentleness that belied the harsh reality of our confinement.
The cell, a cocoon of transient safety, beckoned to me. I nodded in silent agreement, acknowledging the need for respite amidst the tumultuous events. As I curled into a makeshift bed, Grim's watchful eyes lingered for a moment longer, a silent promise lingering in the air.
The moments that followed blurred into a hazy cascade of emotions and exhaustion. Sleep, a fleeting reprieve from the waking nightmare, enveloped me in its embrace. In the shadows of the cell, Grim stood guard—a silent sentinel in the realm of uncertainty.
The clash of malevolence and defiance had reshaped the contours of our shared reality. In the quiet of the cell, a fragile sense of security unfolded, a respite carved out in the aftermath of chaos. And as sleep claimed me, I clung to the promise that, for now, Grim stood sentinel in the shadows—a guardian in the enigmatic tapestry of our intertwined fates.
My awareness and visual acuity returned to me in increments, like a flickering light gradually illuminating the dark corners of my mind. I realised I was still huddled closeby to my unlikely saviour, Grim Reminder. His stoic demeanor betrayed little emotion, but his presence was a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.
"Thanks," I managed to mumble, my voice still carrying the remnants of weakness from the ordeal I'd just endured. Grim nodded in acknowledgment, his monotone voice breaking the silence. "You're welcome."
Why did he save me and why do I feel this connection with him. He was the one who brought me into this mess wasn’t he?
A pregnant pause permeated my cell.
Grim's gaze met mine, and I ventured into the realm of questions. "What is EQUINE?" I asked, my words carrying the weight of genuine curiosity.
Grim's response was as polished as ever, the words flowing with a rehearsed ease. "EQUINE is a facility dedicated to research and advancement, all in the pursuit of bettering pony-kind. We strive to understand and address various issues, pushing the boundaries of knowledge for the benefit of our kind." His monotone delivery held no trace of emotion, and I wondered how many times he had recited this script to others.
Eager to know more, I probed further. "Who's the mare in the cell next to mine?" I questioned, my gaze shifting towards the adjacent enclosure.
Grim's gaze shifted as if contemplating how much to reveal. "Subject number Dee-E-Eight-Three-E-Four," he began, his words measured. "She was exposed to massive amounts of Chaos magic. It didn't just change her, it consumed her natural earth pony magic, replacing it with itself. Almost like a symbiotic virus."
His eyes bore a weight of experience as he continued, "We call her Screwball," the nickname surfacing with a tinge of both familiarity and caution. "It suits her, given the nonsensical ramblings and unpredictable nature that define her existence in this place." Grim's tone carried a mixture of pity and unease, as if he had witnessed the toll Chaos magic had taken on her in ways beyond the physical.
The air between us shifted, the weight of unspoken secrets hanging thickly in the atmosphere. I pressed on, my curiosity undeterred. "And the other cell, the one that looks like several pink bombs have gone off?" I inquired.
A subtle shudder passed through Grim, his gaze darting around as if anticipating the sudden appearance of something ominous. "That's Subject number Eff-Aye-Bee-Three-Dee-One," he said, looking around as if expecting something. "We call it 'The Pink One.' Any utterance of their real name summons them seemingly from nowhere." Grim appeared actually fearful of the unknown abilities of this aforementioned Pink One.
My mind shifted to an unwanted topic, Dr. Test Chambers. Just what was his problem? Why’d he have to be such a cunt?
I mustered the courage to broach the subject that had been lingering in the recesses of my mind like a haunting specter. "Grim," I began, choosing my words with care, "what's the deal with Doctor Test Chambers? Why is he... like that?" I was careful not to swear to Grim.
The mere mention of Dr. Test Chambers sent a chill through the air, his presence a looming shadow over the facility.
Grim's usually composed expression tightened, a subtle flicker of unease crossing his features. "Doctor Chambers," he sighed, "he wasn't always like this. Eccentric, yes, but not... not a sadist." The weight in his words hung heavily, and I could sense the gravity of the situation.
"He used to be different?" I pressed, my curiosity fueled by a desire to unravel the enigma that was Dr. Test Chambers.
Grim nodded, his gaze distant as if revisiting a past that had slipped through the cracks of time. "Yeah, different. He was always obsessed with his experiments, pushing the boundaries of what was considered ethical. But lately, it's like something in him broke. I've never seen him this bad. Crazy, sure, but not like this. There's a darkness in him now, a cruelty that wasn't there before."
I absorbed Grim's words, the revelation painting a chilling portrait of the pony who held sway over our fates. Dr. Test Chambers, once driven by scientific curiosity, now seemed consumed by a malevolence that transcended the pursuit of knowledge. The revelation left me with more questions than answers, a disquieting realization that the key to our predicament might lie in the shattered psyche of the one orchestrating this twisted symphony of suffering.
Something had also been bothering me for a while. What the doctor initially said to me on my first day here, like he wanted to figure out where I was from. It wasn’t from a scientific curiosity point-of-view however, it was almost like he wanted to harness some kind of power. A power that I was in the way of… or the solution for.
As the day progressed, the routine of the facility unfolded, and the time for dinner arrived. A section of the cell opened, revealing a proper meal – meat. My hunger overwhelmed any semblance of etiquette as I devoured the offering.
"Finally, something I can sink my teeth into," I remarked, my words punctuated by the sound of tearing into the meat. Sheepish glances accompanied my feast, and when Grim's eyes met mine, I realized the blood and juice dripping down my mouth were perhaps not the most refined way to consume a meal.
"Interesting way to enjoy your dinner," Grim commented, more curious than disgusted.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hoof, offering a half-smile. "When you're as hungry as I am, manners tend to take a back seat."
Amid the conversation, Grim couldn't help but notice my peculiar accent. He furrowed his brow, intrigued by the unfamiliarity. "Your accent," he began cautiously, "it's unique. I've never heard anything like it. Where did that come from?"
I merely shrugged, genuinely unaware of its origin. "I don't know where it came from," I admitted, my memories failing to provide any answers.
Grim, with a quizzical look on his face, remarked, "Strange choice, given the circumstances." I nodded, appreciating his attempt to grasp the peculiarity of my linguistic nuance.
Although he accepted my explanation, the mystery of my accent was left hanging in the air. As our interactions continued, I mustered the courage to ask a question that lingered in the recesses of my mind. "Why do you protect me?"
Grim hesitated, his gaze meeting mine as he carefully chose his words. "I am not sure, Grey. I cannot quite put a hoof on why, but it feels like the right thing to do. I reckon it's more about duty, you know? Like I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, make sure no harm comes your way."
I pondered his response, my eyes searching his face for clues. There was sincerity in his expression, a genuine concern that softened the lines of his weathered features. The notion of duty resonated with me, providing a glimmer of reassurance in this sea of uncertainty.
A thoughtful silence settled between us before I mustered the courage to voice a deeper fear. I rubbed my foreleg nervously, looking up at Grim with a vulnerability I hadn't fully revealed before. "Do you think I'm a monster?"
The question hung in the air, and Grim, visibly surprised, responded with care. "You're not a monster," he said, his voice softening. "Just a bit different, that's all. Not-so normal, but that's okay."
A genuine smile, a toothy grin, spread across my face. In that moment, surrounded by the cold metallic walls of my cell, I felt a warmth that dispelled the shadows of uncertainty.
Silently, I hoped that nothing would take this newfound connection away.
Case File 013.5: Report 7979-29101010
Report: Day Eighteen at the FacilityDate: 29/10/1010
Location: EQUINE Building 4 Block C
Author: Grim Reminder
Background:
Summary:
Grey trusts me. I… do not want to betray this trust, it is something that cannot be explained. I have started having feelings again, like a child. Her recent mood has greatly improved since I have been watching over her. Although she seems to suffer from nightmares, her sleep schedule is sporadic and uneven. From my research a child her age should be getting 9-11 hours of sleep, she only sleeps 3. I will help her, this much I have promised.
Recommendations:
Conclusion:
Author's Note
Uh-oh someone forgot to redact their secret document.
Some teases for the future, what does it mean -- Stay tuned!
Case File 014: All Hope Lost
Several days had drifted by, each marked by Grim's unwavering presence by my side. It wasn't just a mere act of companionship; he had brought his paperwork into my cell, ensuring he never strayed too far. Yet, beneath this apparent dedication, a veil of secrecy lingered, shrouding Grim's true intentions. My attempts to unravel the mystery proved futile; each probing question was met with a skillful evasion, locking away the enigma that surrounded him.
In a gesture of unexpected kindness, Grim had also procured a blanket for me. Its warmth provided a small solace in the restless nights that haunted my attempts at sleep. Even when slumber did manage to claim me, bizarre visions invaded my dreams. An expansive canvas of clouds stretched endlessly, forming an unlikely platform, and a distant figure on the horizon. It felt as though someone, or something, sought to connect with me from afar. Night after night, this spectral presence persisted, my feeble attempts to reach out met with silence, leaving me alone in the surreal landscape of my dreams.
Names and faces, stricken through with black marker. Who were they?
A variety of meals found their way into my routine, though eating every day wasn't a necessity. I figured it was Grim’s way of apologizing or making up for the traumatic experience. In the passing days, it seemed like I was chipping away at Grim's hard exterior. He even started putting up with my touch more, a surprise considering his usual stoic demeanor. I'd casually lean and lounge around him, attempting a bold move by snuggling up against his leg once. It felt awkward, so I decided not to repeat that experiment. Amidst my time here, peculiar emotions lingered like a subtle identity crisis, even though my gender identity was an obvious ‘girl’. That mental journey led me to ponder my sexuality. Attracted to girls, I recalled the appropriate term was ‘lesbian’. The word surfaced from the depths of my mind, familiar yet perplexing. Why then did I act so familiar with Grim, then? Was it a simple longing for physical contact, perhaps?
I had always been like this.
Between my grilling sessions with Grim and the occasional behavioral therapy, now under Grim's watchful eye, I found moments to spare. One curious venture involved trying to communicate with the chaos-infused mare, Screwball. I called out to her once, only to receive the cryptic response, "Turkey ham sandwich." Enlightening, to say the least.
Through my ongoing conversations with my steadfast guardian, I dedicated myself to refining my speech. While I swiftly grasped the basics and standard sentence structures of Equestrian, an intriguing nuance surfaced—my accent, peculiar and noteworthy, accompanied by a subtle speech impediment. It felt like my brain was working overtime, causing the words I spoke aloud to struggle to keep pace. Frustration once boiled over, leading me to punch myself in the head. Grim has become adept at recognizing the signs, offering a simple remedy: stop, take a breath, and try again.
I had always had a speech impediment.
I did not know the day, but it had been nearly two and half weeks since I’d arrived at EQUINE. Long gone were the days of living in the forest with a manticore as my only instance of maternal affection.
There was nothing before.
I was an orphan, recovering at the Ponyville General Hospital from injuries sustained in a misadventure in the forest, until I was taken in by the ponies at EQUINE.
I was never anything else.
They saved me.
I was never a prisoner.
They helped me. One of the doctors was mean though. Test Chambers, the white one. He took me away and hurt me.
Please, don’t.
I woke with a jolt, as if there had been a massive clap of thunder. My red eyes scanned from side to side, searching for danger. Looking up, I saw Grim Reminder standing over me protectively. In front of him was the very doctor I feared, his grin cutting through the air with the same precision as his scalpel. Flanked by his lackeys, I recognized the more brutish one as Iron Hoof.
“I did warn you, Mister Reminder.” Test Chambers remarked, his voice ominous and commanding.
Please, don’t.
As Iron Hoof took a step toward us, Grim backed into me, ever protective. His fetlock outstretched to the side, blocking anyone's access to me. "Stay back," he warned, his voice wavering for only a split second. We were in danger here.
"Now, now. That's no way to speak to a superior." The doctor's eyes were like pinpricks, his attitude feverish. "After all, I'm not the one in the wrong here. If I recall correctly, Section Twelve, Paragraph Eleven-dash-Aitch of your non-disclosure agreement clearly states that the disclosure of proprietary information to external parties is strictly prohibited, carrying the consequence of termination."
Test Chambers almost seemed ecstatic in delivering this news. Had he planned for this?
Test Chambers' mad scientist grin widened as he reveled in the unfolding drama. "You see, my little subject, it's quite simple. Your big strong protector here," he gestured dismissively towards Grim Reminder, "has violated the sanctity of our non-disclosure agreement, jeopardizing the delicate ecosystem of classified information within EQUINE."
Grim tightened his stance, a mix of concern and anger etched on his face. I clung to the side of his foreleg, my eyes darting between Test Chambers and Grim, the air thick with tension.
"Now, according to the subsection three of the confidentiality protocol," Test Chambers continued, relishing every word, "any breach of this agreement is met with severe consequences, including but not limited to termination of life, but of course i’m willing to be lenient."
I felt Grim's body tense, the weight of the situation settling on him. Test Chambers, in his twisted delight, pressed on, weaving legal jargon like a spider spins its web. "Mister Reminder, you are guilty of aiding and abetting unauthorized communication. The evidence is clear – you've been engaging in unauthorized conversations with our little project here," he pointed disdainfully at me.
Grim's jaw clenched, his gaze never leaving Test Chambers. I could feel the anger radiating from him, but he maintained his composure, aware of the trap laid before him.
“She should count as company property so your point is null and void,” Grim countered. Although hurtful I appreciated the sentiment.
“Is she an employee, Mister Reminder?” With a raised eyebrow, the doctor posed the question that needed no answer.
"As I’m sure you were well aware of," Test Chambers continued, pacing around with an air of superiority, "our research relies on a delicate balance of secrecy and controlled experimentation. Your breach has the potential to compromise not only the safety of our staff but also the integrity of our groundbreaking work."
I couldn't comprehend all the technical details, but the weight of Test Chambers' words hung heavy in the air. Grim's stoic expression remained, but I could sense the turmoil beneath the surface.
"In addition," Test Chambers sneered, "there have been reports of you sharing unauthorized information about our subjects, particularly Subject numbers Dee-E-Eight-Three-E-Four and Eff-Aye-Bee-Three-Dee-One. Such indiscretions, Grim, are unacceptable and jeopardize the very foundation of EQUINE's mission."
Grim's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and defiance, but he remained silent, choosing his battles wisely.
"Now, I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for your termination," Test Chambers mocked sympathy, "but rules are rules. The sanctity of our work must be preserved. You're a liability, Mister Reminder, and it's time for you to face the consequences."
As Test Chambers revelled in his perceived victory, the room echoed with the ominous implications of his words.
Please don’t.
Test Chambers' cruel laughter echoed in the metallic confines of the facility as he gestured to his henchmen in a silently ordered command to attack.
Chaos erupted as the lackeys lunged forward, their movements synchronized in a macabre dance of violence. Grim Reminder, the stalwart guardian, seemed to be a trained fighter in some sort of martial art.
His hooves moved with precision, punching one assailant in the throat, followed by a headbutt that brought him crumpling to the ground. He spun around the second and bucked him with his back legs, making him trip over the disabled body of his comrade. He seemed to have met his match: Iron Hoof. Grim swung a right hook at him but the hoof on the brute’s face neither caused him to budge, nor even bother him as Grim took a left hook to the other side of his face. Iron Hoof simply waved his foreleg, like he was swatting away a pest, and knocked Grim into the wall against his back.
He struggled to get up but was still conscious.
Caught in the whirlwind of aggression and a burning desire to help, I leaped at two of the other attackers. My predatory teeth ripped into the front kneecaps of two of them sending them down with pained yelps and howls. My teeth sank into Test Chambers' nose next with a feral determination. Clenching down on soft tissue I bit down further until I reached flesh and tore, completely destroying his septum. He let out a yell as the metallic taste of flesh and blood filled my mouth, but my victory was short-lived. Iron Hoof's massive form loomed over me, and with a swift motion, he grabbed me and slammed me to the unforgiving floor.
All the breath that was in my body left at the motion. My lungs burned. Pinned down by the brute strength of Iron Hoof, I struggled against his unyielding grip. My attempts to break free proved futile, the weight of his presence too much for my weakened state. I even spat blood in his face; he didn’t even register it at all.
Test Chambers, holding what remained of his nose together, voiced his disappointment with a sinister calmness.
"Grim Reminder, how disappointing. Such a waste of potential. It seems I overestimated you."
He leaned down to Grim’s level and whispered, “And I had many high hopes for you.”
Grim, though battered and bruised, shot a defiant glare at Test Chambers, refusing to yield to the psychological assault.
As the skirmish subsided, Iron Hoof effortlessly lifted me off the ground, holding me in place. My struggles intensified, a desperate attempt to break free from the vice-like grip. However, Iron Hoof's strength was unassailable. Test Chambers had called for security and they took Grim away. He tried struggling to reach me. He tried telling me he’d come back for me. He tried fighting more; in response, the security personnel beat and tased him until he stopped moving.
In a move that felt like a cruel punishment, I was forcible fitted into a restrictive straight jacket. After a brief struggle, the threat of a broken leg made I resigned myself to it. The cold, unyielding fabric constricted my movements, a stark reminder of my vulnerability. To add to the humiliation, a clear plastic muzzle was placed over my mouth, stifling any attempts to speak or bite.
Shatter. The picture fractured.
The room, once filled with the chaotic sounds of battle, fell into an eerie silence. The injured EQUINE guards were collected by their allies. Grim Reminder, defeated and battered, was led away, leaving me restrained and silenced. The metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth as I lay there, a captive in this heartless facility.
Case File 015: Where Is My Mind?
I sat in my now empty room, the sounds of silence filling the air, only being broken by a shallow sigh – I had lost everything. The anger within me boiled and bubbled to the surface; I wanted to have killed them all, but now I was forever confined and restricted. The straightjacket itched my skin, its tight embrace stripping away what little freedom I had left. The clear plastic muzzle was cold and cutting into my cheeks, silencing any attempt at future protests.
My cell, one I had just gotten familiar with and almost comfortable in, suddenly became the opposite. Ominous shadows danced and contorted, mocking my predicament and intensifying the psychological weight of my restraints. My once-vibrant scarlet red eyes had quickly become dull from the strife. Bags had started to develop underneath them, a constant reminder of the stress and exhaustion caused by the recent events.
Just what did I do to deserve such a fate? What led to this very moment?
I thought back, reflecting and reminiscing. Forest, hospital, here. I was raised in the forest by a manticore. When Nightmare Moon attacked, possessing my adoptive mother who then attacked me. My eyes glanced down towards my scar – not that I could see it. I woke up in Ponyville General Hospital; the nurses were nice. They gave me a hoodie; shame what happened to it – still miss it. Then Grim came and found me; he saved me after I accidentally bit a guard. Then… I was here.
That can’t be it. There’s no way I only had memories of the past year and a bit. No matter how hard I tried to remember, I simply couldn’t recall the previous decade of my life.
I felt myself start to panic at what I assumed was some sort of retrograde amnesia. Working myself up so much, tears began to well at the corners of my eyes. Why can’t I remember?
My mind wandered to other topics, alicorns in particular. One of my therapists had explained Celestia to me – the embodiment of all three pony tribes, possessing wings and a horn. The proverbial pin dropped. Nightmare Moon was an alicorn, and Celestia was an alicorn. What if Celestia was Nightmare Moon? Undirected rage built up within me, perhaps unwarranted as I had no proof. But I’d never seen Celestia myself; maybe they were one in the same.
I strained against the unforgiving fabric of the straight jacket, each futile tug met with resistance that bit into my skin. The cold touch of the clear plastic muzzle against my face only intensified the sense of entrapment. Desperation fueled my movements, my limbs wrestling with the unyielding restraints.
The room felt smaller, the shadows closing in as I fought against the constraints. Panic crept in, whispering doubts into the recesses of my mind. It was a battle against the physical and the psychological – a losing battle.
Why can't I break free? The question echoed in the confines of my own thoughts. The struggle persisted, limbs writhing like a caged animal desperate for release. A surge of frustration coursed through me, a primal scream of rebellion against the unfairness of it all.
But the straight jacket held firm, an unrelenting guardian of my captivity. The realization of my powerlessness settled in, and a wave of hopelessness washed over me. Exhausted, I slumped against the once pristine walls of the room, defeated.
Tears welled in my scarlet eyes, reflecting the stark reality of my predicament. The room remained indifferent to my silent plea for freedom, and the shadows continued to dance, mocking my futile efforts.
At that moment, my spirit felt as confined as my restrained body, and the fear of the unknown loomed larger than ever.
A yearning for Grim's presence gripped my heart. I felt something with him, no romantic feelings or sexual attraction, but a deep, unexplainable connection. I missed him in a way that transcended the limitations of my current circumstances.
His stoic demeanor and overly protective nature had become a source of comfort in this chaotic world. The mere thought of him standing guard filled a void I hadn't realized existed until now. There was solace in knowing he was there, a silent guardian watching over me in the face of adversity.
The walls, though unyielding, seemed less intimidating when Grim was by my side. His unspoken assurance felt new and unfamiliar to me like I’d never experienced it. He went out of his way to try and make me feel comfortable and safe. I missed his scent, I missed leaning on him trying to see the paperwork he’d work on. Not that I could read them. In a way, he became my lifeline—a line now severed.
I missed the reassurance in his voice, the steadiness of his gaze that spoke of a quiet commitment. It wasn't just the physical presence; it was the shared understanding that transcended words. Grim didn't need to vocalize his protection; it was an instinctive dance between two beings thrown into the chaos of EQUINE.
In the darkness of my room, the absence of Grim felt like a palpable void. It wasn't a weakness to admit that I craved his protection, his unwavering support. It was a testament to the unpredictable bond that had formed between us. Thinking about him too much made my heart and my head throb in synchronized pain.
I leaned against the wall, staring out at the bloody mess of the recent confrontation. Absent-mindedly, I began to rhythmically tap the back of my head against the metallic surface. Each thud echoed through the room, a morbid percussion accompanying the negative thoughts that crept into my consciousness. Familiar whispers of despair intertwined with the dull ache in my head, a cruel dance that played out far too often.
Why was I born if suffering was all that was to be had?
The pain intensified with each rhythmic collision, a strange solace in the physicality of it. A momentary escape from the relentless grip of my thoughts. I hit my head harder; the world blurred into a disorienting haze. Flashes of white stars shimmered across my vision as if mocking my feeble attempts at distraction.
When clarity returned, it brought with it an unexpected presence. A figure, shrouded in shadows, stood before me. No discernible features, just an enigmatic silhouette that seemed to absorb what little light existed in my cell. A chill ran down my spine as the figure remained steadfast, a silent observer in the theatre of my turmoil.
In the eerie silence, broken only by the distant hum of the facility, the figure spoke. A voice that carried no weight, no substance. "You do not belong here," it uttered, the words echoing with an otherworldly resonance. The figure's gaze bore into me with an intensity that surpassed the physical, probing the recesses of my troubled soul.
A shiver ran through me as the apparition lingered for what felt like an eternity before dissipating into the same shadows from whence it came. The residual echo of its words lingered a cryptic message that left me suspended in a surreal dance between reality and the intangible realm of my fractured mind.
I let out a dry chuckle. I truly was going insane. Seeing seven-foot-tall shadow ponies was a telling sign. At this rate, I’d end like Screwball, a babbling drooling mess of a filly. This cell was no longer my only prison; I was held captive within my own mind fighting against demons of unspeakable torment.
In the suffocating silence that followed, I teetered on the edge of a void that threatened to swallow me whole. The remnants of the shadowy figure's cryptic message reverberated through the recesses of my consciousness, each word an ominous chord that resonated with the dissonance of my unraveling mind.
The walls of my cell closed in, their padded embrace tightening with a palpable malevolence. Whispers, once distant, now clawed at the edges of my sanity, their insidious words dripping with evil intent. Faces, twisted and contorted, loomed in the shadows, their eyes hollow sockets that bore into the very core of my fears.
Thoughts, once coherent, now spiraled into a maelstrom of chaos. Memories, both real and imagined, intertwined in a grotesque tapestry that painted the walls of my confinement. The line between reality and illusion blurred, and I found myself ensnared in a labyrinth of my own creation, where each twist and turn led me deeper into the abyss.
In the descent into madness, the boundaries of self dissolved. I questioned the very fabric of my existence, the purpose of my tortured reality. The straight jacket became a suffocating cocoon, its embrace a grotesque second skin that fused with the essence of my torment. The plastic muzzle, a cruel instrument of enforced silence, held back not just my screams but the fragmented remnants of my crumbling sanity.
As the darkness enveloped me, I spiraled further into the abyss, where the whispers of the shadows became a symphony of madness, and the spectral hands reached out to drag me into the inescapable depths of my unraveling psyche.
Case File 016: The Other Side
I was awake, but it had been a while. I don't think I'd slept in three days. The plastic muzzle's straps had cut into my cheeks, wearing down my fur. At least a week had passed, or that's what I assumed. Hunger became my only telling sign. The therapists stopped visiting; Dr. Test Chambers had more than likely put a stop to that.
The shadows that had tormented me in the first couple of days stopped bothering me. I assumed they'd gotten bored, though I realized I was personifying them too much. They didn't exist, only figments of my imagination.
Turning my head to one side, I inhaled deeply. God, I needed a bath. I hadn't been able to lick myself clean for a week. The pungent odor permeated and settled around me once I became aware of it. I wrinkled my nose and tried my best to ignore it.
I missed Grim more than ever. Sometimes, I'd stare at the door and wait for him to burst in to rescue me, but he never did. In my infinite downtime, I started imagining a life together.
I'd come home from a long day of whatever it is kids do, and he'd be there to greet me. Possibly with a home-cooked meal, though the mental image of Grim wearing an apron over a stove made me smile at its absurdity. I'd talk about my day all excited-like, with a smile befitting a child my age. He'd smile back and say how nice that sounded.
If there was anyone I'd want to end up with, it was Grim. He was the only thing that could pass for a father figure in my experiences that I knew about. I hoped he was doing okay.
Grim Reminder, my dad. The idea felt foreign though comforting at the same time. I thought forward to perhaps introducing him to a potential girlfriend, or him seeing me off to university. Maybe I’d change my name to Grey Reminder, or Grim Nick, however naming conventions worked in Equestria.
My happy thoughts were rudely interrupted when a familiar waste of space and oxygen entered my cell. Dr. Test Chambers stood a metre and a half away from me. His lackey, Iron Hoof, stood in the hall outside the door.
“Ready for your testing?” He asked, not looking for an answer. “We've got a big project we're doing today, Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine.”
Too tired and exhausted to argue or fight back, I stared back at him, waiting for him to turn and leave for me to follow.
The doctor guided me down the hallway, while Iron Hoof flanked me. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered ever so slightly every thirty seconds.
I was nervous, of course. Who knows what I was being led towards? The flickering of the lights only added to my discomfort. But onwards I trudged, determined to make a fool out of the doctor. I would no longer flinch or be scared of him, something that was easier to mentally preach than put into practice.
By the time we reached the end of the hall my little legs were aching. No sympathy was to be found in the current company, however.
Dr. Test Chambers entered the very last room and motioned for me to enter after. I peeked at the words beside the entranceway, though I could only make out ‘ASCEND–’.
Hesitant to enter, I received a shove from behind by Iron Hoof, causing me to stumble unevenly in the straight jacket. Once I had regained my balance, I looked up to see a monstrosity of a machine that took up the majority of the space within the room.
It was a bulky and imposing device, made up of dozens of large segments of stark white metal. Unlike the clinical white of the walls I was accustomed to, this machine had a chilling bone-white hue, with hints of metallic gray peeking through the fading paint job. The individual metal sections were slotted together to create a towering white structure that almost reached the ceiling. It spread out wide too, leaving very little floor space; two ponies could walk abreast between the wall and the machine, but it would be a tight squeeze. The white behemoth was covered in all manner of lights and meters, though they were most dense towards the bottom front. Screens adorned the area near a large gap in the metal segments, along with an assortment of dials, buttons, and knobs.
Through the gap in the metal was a small opening, just enough space to access a brutal metal chair. The chair seemed old and battered, but sturdy nonetheless. There were hoofrests for the forelegs, and protrusions at the bottom for rear legs to rest against. Forcefully, I imagined, as there were thick leather belts all over the chair to keep the occupant in place—even around the headrest. The chair was an uninviting spectacle, surrounded on all sides by blank white metal and the edges tinged by rust. At least, I hoped the reddish coloring was caused by rust.
Above the chair, suspended by a solid rod of metal, was some type of arm. The arm itself was unremarkable, simply another white piece of metal fixed to the pole above by an axle. On the end of the arm, however, was a large lamp. It appeared to be held to the arm by a hinge, no doubt allowing it to swivel down in front of whoever was seated in the chair. The lamp was large, twice as large as even Iron Hoof's head, with multiple rows of small bulbs housed inside. More akin to a floodlight than a desk lamp, it would dominate the vision of anyone who was seated before it.
Before I could voice any opposing opinion, I was forcibly placed and secured in the chair. My straight jacket was loosened, offering me a brief feeling of freedom before it was quenched when the straps of the chair tightened around my fetlocks. My heartbeat quickened; I had no idea what this machine's purpose was, but I was frightened all the same.
Dr. Test Chambers was halfway through a monologue while he paced back and forth in front of me. My attention only turned to the doctor near the end of his spiel.
“-and together you will help us discover the secrets of alicorns, most importantly, their immortality.”
He was more crazy than I originally thought.
The arm of the machine spun around in front of me, with an almost ultraviolet light facing me. It was bright and blinding.
The doctor looked to Iron Hoof, who manned the controls, “Run it.”
With a nod of a reply, Iron Hoof pulled down a lever, and the arm began to spin around me. Slow at first, it picked up speed fast. The light quickly blurred before all I saw were horizontal lines of light.
Something was happening to me; my very brain felt stretched. I couldn't move anymore, and my head slumped to the side.
***
Tentatively, I opened my eyes. The sight before me left me in shock and awe. An infinitely dark plane was before me, thick heavy fog covered what could have been called the floor. Said floor was wet. Each step caused ripples that flowed outward. A crack of thunder followed by red lightning made me practically jump out of my skin.
I kept walking in the direction I assumed to be forward. The flashes of red lightning lit my way, the only source of light around. For several minutes, I walked aimlessly without seeing anything in the distance.
Several rectangular sources of light caught my attention. When I got closer to them I found them to be floating television screens constantly showing static.
“Weird,” I noted to myself.
“Thou art not of our progeny,” an ethereal voice stated from the void.
A sudden face close to my own made me shout in fright and drop to the wet floor. She was, in no other describable words, a goddess. She was a towering, spectral being of immense proportions. She emanated an ethereal aura, her mane ablaze with dark red flames that danced with an eerie glow. Two sets of massive angelic wings adorned her back, while a sharp pointed horn jutted from her head. Her coat, a radiant white, shimmered with a celestial light that seemed to bend reality itself. The only visible part of her cutie mark was half an ink quill. Her eyes, deep pools of ancient wisdom, gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, instilling a primal fear within me. In her presence, I felt small and insignificant, unable to comprehend the true extent of her existence. She was not just a mare; she was a terrifying force of nature, a being beyond mortal understanding, whose very presence inspired both awe and terror in equal measure.
"Nor hast thou claim to a place herein. Attend well, outsider, for the most grievous of consequences shalt befall thee upon thy return.”
***
Pushed out of the hidden realm at breakneck speeds I shuddered awake back in the chair, still strapped into it.
A scrubbed-up attendant checked my vitals. They must have come in to assist after I went out.
“No matter.” He didn’t even look up. “The subject is responding as expected. Put it back in.”
Terrified at the prospect of going back, I tried to flail about.
“No!” I cried out in panic. “She said not to!”
The machine’s arm had already started spinning.
I tried shaking myself around but the restraints were too tight.
“She…said…not…to.” My words got weaker and weaker as the machine arm sped up and the light blinded me again.
***
I stepped hesitantly into the dimly lit plane of existence, my heart pounding with apprehension. Despite the Goddess’ ominous warning echoing in my mind, I found myself back in this dreaded place against my will.
As I turned around to face the plane’s beginning, a bone-chilling presence swept over me, freezing me in place. Suddenly, with a deafening roar, She materialized right in front of me, her towering figure looming over me like an ancient, wrathful deity.
Before I could react, her piercing eyes bore into mine, and she bellowed, "Begone!" The force of her command was like a physical blow, knocking me off my feet and hurling me back into the waking world from whence I came. The terror of her sudden appearance and thunderous voice echoed in my mind, leaving me shaken to the core.
***
My consciousness came back to me slowly, though my vision was impaired and everything felt fuzzy. As I felt the first tremors ripple through my body, my muscles tensed uncontrollably, and my vision blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes.
“Oh Celestia, she’s seizing,” my swiveled ears made out.
“Pull the plug,” the Doctor’s voice commanded. That was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.
Author's Note
Sorry for the long wait folks, life got in the way. Plus I moved to another state, taken a while to get settled.
Case File 017: Can (Not) Feel
As my consciousness gradually returned, I became aware of a strange sensation coursing through my body. It was as if a heavy fog had settled over me, muffling my senses and dulling my awareness. I tried to move, to shift my weight, but my efforts were met with resistance. Panic surged within me as I realized that I couldn't feel my back legs.
A sense of dread washed over me as I struggled to understand what was happening. Was this some side effect of the experiment? Had something gone wrong during my time in the Goddess’ realm? Questions swirled in my mind, but there were no immediate answers.
Just as I began to fear the worst, the door to my cell slid open, and a nurse entered, her expression grave. She wasted no time in delivering the news, her words laced with medical jargon that I struggled to comprehend fully.
"Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine, you've experienced temporary paralysis as a result of a synapse malfunction triggered during the experiment," she explained, her tone clinical yet tinged with sympathy.
I listened to her explanation, trying to process the information as my mind raced with fear and confusion. Temporary paralysis? It all seemed like a nightmare, but I knew that I couldn't afford to dwell on it for long.
“This is just some enoxaparin, it’ll help prevent blood clots,” as the nurse spoke further, she reached for a syringe to administer. My heart raced as I watched her approach, apprehension clawing at the edges of my consciousness. But as the needle pierced my skin, I felt nothing. No sensation, no pain. It was as if the syringe had never touched me.
Desperation welled up inside me, while the nurse looked at my lack of reaction to the injection.
“Please don’t tell the doctor,” I begged the nurse.
I couldn't bear the thought of what he might do if he found out about my condition. To my relief, the nurse reluctantly agreed to keep it under wraps.
“I’ll return later for further assessment,” she promised.
Alone once more, I lay in my cell, grappling with the gravity of my situation. The realization that I could no longer feel pain filled me with a strange mix of relief and dread. It was as if I had become detached from my own body, a mere shell of my former self.
That Goddess, the one who appeared before me in the void, must have been responsible for this. Who else could have crippled me for trespassing upon her domain? Was this the Celestia that everypony kept on going on about? So-called ruler of Equestria. If she truly is behind this, then she is nothing but a tyrant, a despot who revels in the suffering of those who dare to defy her.
If only I had never laid eyes on her and stayed hidden in the shadows where I belonged. But it's too late for regrets now. All I could do was endure, biding my time until I could escape this wretched place and seek my revenge against the one who brought me to this state of misery.
As days passed, I felt myself slipping further into isolation, forgotten by the outside world. The nurse visited sporadically, performing non-invasive tests and offering little in the way of comfort or reassurance. I began to wonder if anyone outside these walls even remembered my existence.
Everypony at Ponyville General. Helping Hoof, Doctor Horse, that psychologist named Sweets. Even that guardspony that I bit, I missed her. I had to apologise to her eventually, in my own words.
Each moment dragged on with excruciating slowness. The oppressive silence weighed heavily upon me, broken only by the occasional sound of distant hoofsteps echoing through the sterile corridors. It seemed as though time itself had ground to a halt, leaving me trapped in a perpetual state of limbo, suspended between the realms of consciousness and oblivion.
Then, one day, the nurse returned, her footsteps echoing with an unfamiliar urgency. She informed me that the doctor would be out for the weekend for some grand gala. The nurse assisted me into an equine-compatible wheelchair and wheeled me down the hall. All that time, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, unsure of what awaited me beyond the confines of my cell. We traversed the labyrinthine hallways of the facility, the sterile walls closing in around us like silent sentinels guarding their secrets.
Upon reaching our destination, the nurse wasted no time in subjecting me to a battery of non-invasive tests, including an MRI scan. The machine whirred to life with a cacophony of mechanical sounds, enveloping me in its cold embrace as it probed the inner workings of my mind. As the results began to materialize on the monitor, the nurse's expression grew increasingly grave.
“You’ve suffered significant damage to your thalamus, a vital region of the brain responsible for relaying sensory information, thus resulting in an inability to perceive pain. Of course, the technical term for this is analgesia…”
I tuned out the nurse and stared blankly at the ceiling. Wasn’t being able to feel pain what made one human a pony?
I guess my face showed too much emotion because the nurse got down to my level and spoke to me. “This will not go in any official or unofficial report.” She offered me a small smile of assurance.
Despite the nurse's word that she would keep my condition confidential from the doctor’s knowledge, doubts gnawed at the edges of my mind like ravenous beasts. The prospect of the doctor discovering my newfound immunity to pain filled me with a sense of dread, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I knew all too well the cruelty that lurked within the depths of his twisted mind, and I shuddered at the thought of what he might do if he were to uncover the truth. With each passing moment, my resolve to escape this prison grew stronger, fueled by a primal instinct for self-preservation and a burning desire for freedom.
Confined to my cell, I grappled with the implications of my condition and the uncertainty of my future. Isolation and paranoia suffused the air, weaving a tangled web around me as if the walls themselves were closing in on my existence. The realization that I could no longer feel pain only served to heighten my sense of detachment from the world outside, leaving me feeling like a mere shadow of my former self. Despite my efforts to push aside my fears and doubts, they linger like specters in the recesses of my consciousness, a constant reminder of the fragility of my existence.
With each passing day, my sense of isolation and paranoia deepens, exacerbated by my uncertainty about the nurse's true intentions and the potential consequences of my condition being discovered. Anxiety and apprehension flooded my mind like a relentless tide, as I grappled with the uncertainty of my situation and the looming threat of exposure. The nurse's sporadic visits offered little solace, her assurances of secrecy rang hollow in my ears. With each passing moment, I found myself growing more distrustful of those around me, unsure who I could trust in this twisted world of shadows and secrets.
Days blurred together as I spent my time confined to this cell, grappling with my newfound reality and the fear of what lies ahead. Alone with my thoughts, I was plagued by doubts and insecurities, my mind a battleground of conflicting emotions. As the days stretched into weeks and then months, I clung to the hope of escape like a lifeline, desperate for a glimmer of light amidst the encroaching darkness.
In the interim, I had begun wiggling the ends of the back hooves, slowly getting some feeling in them. Glad that this analgesia I have now doesn’t affect physical touch at least.
However, I often found myself sinking into an abyss despair, consumed by the bitter realization that I was nothing more than a discarded toy, broken and abandoned. Memories of my past experiences haunted me, each recollection a painful reminder of the betrayal and manipulation that had led me to this dismal fate. Like a puppet on strings, I had been used and discarded by those who claimed to have my best interests at heart, only to cast me aside when I was no longer of use to them. The echoes of their deceit reverberated through the empty corridors of my mind, a constant refrain of anguish and betrayal that threatened to consume me whole. In those dark moments of solitude, I felt like a shattered porcelain doll, pieced together with fragments of broken dreams and shattered promises, destined to languish in the darkness forever.
In moments of solitude, I found myself reflecting on my past emotional connections and contemplating the nature of my relationship with Grim. Memories of what little time we shared, offered fleeting glimpses of warmth in the cold expanse of my solitude. Though the distance separated us, I was drawn to the warmth of his presence like a moth to a flame, longing for the companionship I believed we shared. As I traced the steps of our shared past, I was filled with a sense of longing, a fleeting glimpse of warmth in the cold expanse of my solitude.
As the weekend drew nearer, I began to formulate a daring escape plan, mapping out every detail with meticulous precision. I knew that my window of opportunity would be fleeting, but I refused to let fear dictate my actions. Armed with nothing but sheer determination and a desperate longing for liberation, I vowed to seize control of my destiny and reclaim my autonomy from the clutches of those who sought to imprison me.
With determination burning in my heart, I resolved to make this the day of my escape. The walls of my prison had grown suffocating, their oppressive weight bearing down upon me with each passing moment. But as I prepared to take the first step towards freedom, an unexpected sight caught me off guard. Rain began to fall from the ceiling, a cascade of brown droplets that coated the floor and walls in a shimmering layer of sweetness. I closed my eyes and extended my tongue tentatively, tasting the odd and surprisingly rich flavor of chocolate as it danced upon my senses. It was a surreal moment, one that filled me with both wonder and confusion.
As I marveled at the strange phenomenon unfolding before me, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter echoing through the corridors. At first, it was a light and playful sound, but as the moments passed, it grew louder and more frenzied, until it reached a fever pitch of insane cackling. I turned to see Screwball, the mare in the adjacent cell, the wall between suddenly missing, doubled over with laughter while somehow suspended in the air, her purple-swirled eyes wild and unfocused. The sight sends a shiver down my spine, a chill that lingers long after the laughter has faded.
“Let the pudding tasting begin!” Her cryptic lines still baffled and confused me to no end.
As if on cue, the cell doors slid open with a whoosh, beckoning me toward the unknown beyond. It's a tempting invitation, one that filled me with a sense of both trepidation and excitement. With each step forward, I felt the weight of my past falling away, replaced by the promise of a new beginning. As I stepped through the open doorway, I knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and dangers, but I also knew that it would be a journey I must undertake. For in the depths of my solitude, I have found the strength to defy the odds and carve out my destiny. As the door closes behind me, I take my first steps toward freedom, leaving the shadows of my past behind and embracing the light of a future filled with endless possibilities.
Case File 018: I Can (Never) Escape
I peeked my head out of where my cell door used to be. The familiar metallic clang was absent, replaced by an eerie silence that hung heavily in the air. The weird magic residue still lingered, and it felt like the very fabric of reality was warping and shifting around me. In the cell next to mine, Screwball was still mumbling things that made no sense within earshot.
"Banana tuna!" she giggled to herself, her voice echoing unnervingly through the distorted corridors.
I was a few steps outside my cell, ready to leave it all behind, when a deep sigh escaped my lips. Through everything, I couldn't leave Screwball behind. She would be hopeless on her own in this madhouse.
As I entered what was once her cell, I couldn't help but stand in amazement. She hung in the air with no support, defying gravity as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She must have seen me watching her because she suddenly stopped ranting. When I raised my head, her gaze was directed straight into my eyes. Her unseeing purple irises, filled with swirling patterns, were discomforting. But there was an unexpected innocence in her gaze, a childlike wonder that contrasted sharply with the madness around us.
I gave a small smile to ease her, let her know I wasn't going to hurt her. "Screwball? Hey? We gotta get outta here. Weird shit’s going down." I extended a fetlock in offering, hoping she'd understand and trust me.
"Zoo wee mama?" she inquired with a quizzical cant of her head, her voice taking on an eerie sing-song quality. That phrase—why did it sound so familiar? Was she the key to helping me remember what I'd forgotten? Important memories felt just out of reach, teasing me with their absence.
"Come with me!" I extended to her my hoof once more, this time quite insistently. I could not ignore the panic now emerging in my tone. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that time was running out.
"Hm? Whass this?" Responding in an overly cutesy way, she floated towards me and sniffed my hoof. To my surprise, she decided to latch on with her mouth and teeth.
"Nom noms," she mumbled around my hoof, eyes wide with a bizarre mix of mischief and innocence.
I took that as acceptance and started guiding her floating body towards an exit. We were within walls that seemed to pulsate and breathe around us; what had once been firm, solid walls were now behaving like something living. Shadows twisted and writhed at the corners of my vision, and I could hear distant whispers—like a thousand voices murmuring secrets just beyond comprehension.
The hallway seemed to elongate and snake with each footstep, and the path seemed not to be the same. The ground felt sticky under me, as though I was walking across some enormous taffy, and the air was sweet in a sickening way. Rainfall of chocolate once again fell from the ceiling, splattering against the floor in droplets of sugary liquid. I stuck my tongue out, savoring the ridiculousness of it all—the heady flavor melding with the metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat from fear.
Behind us, Screwball's guffaws turned maniacal; the sound waves bounced off the walls and sent chills up the hairs on my arms. Her laughter was contagious, the kind that seeped into one's brain, and I started wondering if maybe I'd lost it. Was this real? Or was it a warped figment of my imagination? A sick trick played out for my maimed psyche.
The cell doors in front of us creaked open with an eerie sound that urged us onward into the unknown. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I stepped forward, Screwball floating beside me, her grip on my hoof never faltering. This was our chance, our moment to break free from the madness. I couldn't help the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, we were stepping from one nightmare into another.
As we stepped over the threshold, the deafening bedlam of the facility faded away, replaced by a pervading silence that seemed to hang in the air. Outside spread the landscape—a surreal blend of familiarity and discord. The vibrant colors of Equestria seemed to wash out, as if some giant had sucked the life from the world, leaving behind a bleak and colorless, gray-shaded vista.
The silhouetted hump of Canterlot was a stark vision in the distance and even more so now against the darkened sky, its spires jutting up to heaven like old jagged claws. But something felt wrong—discordant, even. The city pulsated with an alien force, the very ground quaked under the foot of unseen leviathans.
To our left, the Everfree Forest sprawled out before us, looking like some strange, contorted maze, gnarled trees casting shadows in a manner that looked like they shifted and danced. A place of untamed chaos, where the laws of nature meant nothing and danger lurked around every turn.
Ahead and to our right, the rolling hills of Ponyville stretched out further than the eye could see, but the once-bustling town lay eerily silent. Buildings stood in ruin, their shattered remains serving as grim reminders of the tempest that had swept over the land. Overhead, the sky churned with dark clouds, boiling and roiling as though a cauldron, their intensity sending shivers down my spine. It seemed like creation itself was ripping apart under these forces of chaos beyond our comprehension.
An icy foreboding washed over me at what was taking place before me; it threatened to encase me in an iceberg. This wasn't the Equestria that I knew; it was not the land of harmony and friendship that ponies told me about. It was another world turned upside down, a twisted reflection of everything dear to me.
The boundless hills were purple and checkered; chocolate milk rained from the cotton candy clouds in the sky. In the far distance, I could see some sort of settlement—it was so far away that the tiny speck appeared like a castle on the side of a mountain. Was that Ponyville? I was a ways off; there would be no way I'd make it on hoof. I looked back at my matted and unkempt feathers, not used to preening for almost a full year. If only I could use these.
Screwball let out a low whistle beside me, her eyes wide with wonder at the surreal landscape. "Look! The umbrella of pickles is loud!" she said with a voice tinged by childlike glee, which seemed very out of place amidst all the desolation. Yeah, sure, Screwball.
Now faced with the dilemma of getting back to some sort of civilization, I realized that I hadn't thought this far ahead in my escape plan. With no other option present, I began walking forward. Sliding down an embankment and getting a face full of mud was my only reward for that choice. Screwball didn't get covered in mud; she was floating. Lucky.
"Help me up," I said feebly. I should not cry.
"Uppie uppie!" Screwball chanted happily, lifting me up from underneath by my front legs. When she realized she was floating again, I got the greatest idea.
"You wanna float down that way?" I asked, pointing toward where Ponyville had been.
"Pepperoni!" she agreed, floating toward the direction I had given her.
Author's Note
I know it's been a while. I've since moved interstate, and have been dealing with several personal issues. This chapter isn't much but it should at least make up for the hiatus.
Case File 005.5: Patient Notes
Patient Notes
Patient's details (Please print) Full name GREY ~~(UNKNOWN)~~ NICKGender F ☑ / M ☐Species Earth ☐ / Pegasus ☑ / Unicorn ☐ / Other ☐Date of birth N/A (AGE APPROX. 12 YRS)Contact N/AHome Address N/AGP and Surgery DOCTOR HORSE
Patient Note
4CM LONG CUT LEFT SIDE UNDER EYE. STITCHES APPLIED
SEVERE LACERATIONS TO RHL. TIMBERWOLF. STITCHES
NURSE NOTED PATIENT SLEPT FOR OVER 14HRS, AWOKE DISORIENTED
~~FRIGHTENED HELPING HOOF~~ ALLERGY MORPHINE, SUSPECT ALL OPIATES
DEMANDED CLOTHING. SELF HARM SCARS OBSERVED, WILL QUESTION LATER
COMMUNICATION SKILLS LOW, SPEECH IMPEDIMENT. SEEMS TO UNDERSTAND, TROUBLE EXPRESSING
Objective Notes
CURRENT MEDICATION - PARACETAMOL
OBSERVE AND REPORT
POSSIBLY SEND FOR PSYCHIATRIST/PSYCHOLOGIST
CONTACT CPS
PATIENT NEEDS TO FEEL COMFORTABLE. ASSIGN HELPING HOOF TO HER.
This information may be shared with external agencies: Yes ☑ / No ☐
This information should be reviewed on......12/10/1010........ (date)
Signed: D.Horse
Surgery: 10/10/1010
Please return during office hours to:
Author's Note
Looked at templates online. Tried to combine a Patients Notes and a Progress Report. Hopefully the basic gist gets across anyway.
Case File 010.5: Report 7979-20101010
Report: Day Nine at the FacilityGrey Nick )Date: 20/10/1010
Location: EQUINE Building 4 Block C
Author: ████ ████████
Background:
Summary:
Subject #7979 exhibits signs of physical and emotional distress, likely stemming from the recent experimentation conducted by Dr. Test Chambers. The injuries sustained during these procedures are a cause for concern, and medical attention is strongly advised.
Recommendations:
Continued Monitoring: Given the recent medical interventions, it is crucial to closely monitor Subject #7979's physical and mental well-being. Any signs of deterioration should be promptly addressed.
Psychological Support: Subject #7979 displays symptoms of emotional distress and trauma. A dedicated psychological support plan, involving regular sessions with a qualified counselor, is recommended.
Review of Dr. Test Chambers' Procedures: The nature and extent of the recent experiments conducted by Dr. Test Chambers raise ethical concerns. A thorough review of his procedures and their impact on subjects is warranted.
Conclusion:
Note: Dr. Test Chambers' procedures and their effects on subjects demand further scrutiny, and appropriate action should be taken to ensure ethical standards are maintained within the EQUINE facility.
