The Collection

I do not know who I am, I cannot know who I am. I feel like a blurry photo. I cannot fully feel the drop. Not when I think of my face leaving my body, when my mind loses its self-preservation. I pass out. I try not to, I try to stay awake, but I pass out. I simply leave for a land far from here. Where I hear echoes of a love I know not, and she asks for my help. I can’t see her, only reminded that once, I felt something. Something true. Something naked. I sleep in dreams of her, and she helps me awake. I feel nothing anymore when I stare at the void. I feel nothing.

I was so gray—my fur. My eye, my patch, my everything. It was gray, bland. I looked at myself and I looked back at myself and we watched each other and judged each other and I was so gray and it was too. I didn’t want to move because that was me but I wanted to leave because that was me and I thought maybe I didn’t like myself. So this is me. This is what I was. That mirror was so large, so grand, like a portal to a new world and I wished that It could have been that way. This world was mine, and I hated it. Damn, I did.

Wow, I thought, wow. It was all for this

I turned around toward my flank and I saw my flank was filled with scratches, lines that seemed to have healed after a long while. I was shocked, my friends, because I never knew about this. And behind all these scratches and cuts, a small bit of purple shone threw behind the gray marks. Purple. Me? Was I purple?

I smiled now, because my friends, I was beautiful. I had color, I had pizazz! I had character now, I had something no other had. Color. Yes! It was faint, behind all the scratches and burns. But it was there, I was purple!

It looked like a squiggle as if it was curving, so delicate. Curse those marks! I wish I could see myself in full beauty.

I loved myself.

I faced forward once again, and I had a new light. Yes. And behind me, my home opened up. It faced toward my collection, trinkets all silver and gold and shiny and they were wonderful, just wonderful. And I cried now, I felt a tear go down my sullen cheek, wow, everything was illuminated with beauty. My friends, my friends, it shone! It blew itself up. And now I watched this thing, this mirror, oh its beauty!

I felt so happy, I felt so elated, and I looked at myself again. My eyes, my mane my everything, it was wonderful, my gray was unique now. I was proud of it. I closed my eyes, my beautiful eyes, and I opened them and there I was, I was beautiful, I was wonderful. I wanted to hug myself. So I smiled. I smiled so wide and my other self smiled.

I felt everything was right. There I was, and I earned this.

She was like me. I wondered if she was like me. I wanted her to be like me, and to like what I liked, and to do what I did. I wanted somepony exactly like me. I can see her and yes I have a friend and of course, I like them. They are me. We could do a secret handshake. I liked that. I liked that so much, that I wanted to do it.

I raised my hoof now, and Octy follows. So effortless. And I waved it around and again it did so smoothly and it was beautiful. That's me. And I began to squat and she followed. And I blinked and she did the same. Just like me. Just like me. Just like me. And everything felt congealed. Yes, my beautiful trinkets, upon oak floors and the red curtains, all looked amazing and beautiful made like it was brand new. Brand new. I popped my lips and it followed. It was wonderful. It was sweet. I loved tangerines, they were always so sweet. I liked them. I did. I liked them. I liked tangerines, I loved tangerines, I loved them. So sweet. And I smiled now at the mirror. It’s beautiful, my mind is filled with citrus. I remembered. I liked tangerines, I loved them. Mmm. And I smiled, and Octy smiled. And I liked that.

I smiled.

Octy smiled.

I blinked.

Octy blinked.

I opened my mouth.

Octy opened her mouth.

I pursed my lips.

Octy pursed my lips.

I smiled.

Octy smiled.

I frowned.

Octy smiled.

And I looked upon myself, smiling.

It was wide, too wide, and I saw teeth and she angled her head down and her eyes were angled upward. And it looked hateful, and I didn’t think that was me anymore. And I looked and it slowly opened its mouth and it stared at me and my heart stopped unwillingly. It stopped and I couldn't do anything, not even breathe and I liked breathing. And it spoke, but I could not hear. Octy moved her mouth, words failing her. I was in silence. I was scared, my friends.

Soon, I saw in a misty vision, I began to materialize, the creature, the thing, it began to step forth from the mirror, and it advanced upon me. And I was stuck. It was me, it was me, it stood in front of me all of my glory.

“Hey?”

It questioned me, sickeningly, its teeth sharp. She sounded like a little doll, and she smiled, and I was frozen. My friends, I saw her speaking to me.

“Don't you enjoy me?”

I shook my head.

It frowned, disappointed, staring through the mirror, as the air became smelly, it smelled like iron and I thought I would throw up.

“I love what you've done with the place.”

I nodded.

“I know what you like, I know what you see, I know what you desire. I know how lost you are. You drifted away, too far away. You're not even on an island, you're just…nowhere. Nowhere in sight.”

I muttered something, an act that surprised me, sounding like metal grinding. “I uh…what…what are you?”

“You.”

“I-I’m me, I’m me…”

The thing laughed, smiling, and it looked darker now as if it was boiling, growing. It became bloated, and soon it looked barely like its original form.

“What type of sick god lied to you?”

There was no more mirror.

There was no more theatre.

In a space of black, it preyed on me.

“I am so lucky to have found you, my baby, my baby darling girl. You look so beautiful.”

It was freed from its prison, leering at me, as I shrunk, lowest of the low, my heart subsiding, passing on, my mind frozen, my limbs cut, my eyes pooling crimson, as it spoke, a wicked grin filled with pain, it laughed at me.

“What a cruel cruel world. I know what you want to see. I can give you the world, restore you to the gardens, with tea and milk and honey, where the gods play with the devils. Would you like to go there?”

It leaned in. It smelled like gold.

“I can be you, Octavia. If you let me in.”

It scared me, as I felt sweat rolling down my back, as my body began to move within itself, in the expanse of black, where my eyes closed, and I felt something inside of me.

“I can show you music.”

Yearning. I looked at this thing which no longer was a thing, blackness, I was in space. My mother told me about space. I liked the space.

“I can take you to Mars.”

I never liked my mother.

The darkness subsided, and the theatre was returned to my sight. The mirror stood in front of me, and there was me, just me.

I raised a hoof.

Mirror me raised a hoof alongside me.

I sighed.

It did so along with me.

I sat down and it copied my move.

I heard the sound of strings, against my ear, as I looked at my beaten self. I ruined what I had. I hoofed my nose and closed my eyes. A voice, a remembrance of a time before, spoke throughout my body.

The devil tempts you, best not to let it free.

I took the mirror, bringing it to the stage, placing it face down, watching it lie there, wishing to break it, but the voice urged me not to. I began to lie, down, looking at the ceiling. That thing was nothing and yet it was everything about me.

The worst feeling, as I slept, was that I missed its voice. But soon, I knew, I would forget. I looked at my notes and my pencil. It's ok to forget. It's ok. And I slept, with the mirror facing the floor, and my mind shut off.

Upon a hill, there was a house made of brick and wood, with a little chimney that would go choo choo! Plumes of smoke filled the air with the smell of fresh bread, as I ran up the hill to see the perfect house with the perfect door, I entered to see the cottage illustrated perfectly in cobblestone and wood and brick, as the fire burned away, warming the room as I looked at the table too big for me. The kitchen expanded out, where my mother stood in front of the stove, flipping a fish on the frying pan. It winked at me as I went to my mother.

“Octavia, you didn't get any fleas, did you?”

“No mother.”

“Any ticks? Because Flashy Flash’s mother said that those things were really popular during this time, so if you got them, you must let me know. We don't want an infestation.”

“Right Mother, I get it.”

“So?”

“No, I have nothing.”

My mother looked like a creamsicle, looking at me as her eyes widened with love. “Dinners almost ready dear, get your sister from the attic, ok?”

I nodded and looked above her, the attic hanging down, as the stairs descended from an unknown force. My mother motioned me to the steps, as the fish began to laugh and the fire crackled.

“Your sister’s waiting, she was asking for you, wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and kept yapping.”

This was scary because my sister never wanted to talk with me, and my mother sounded stern. She looked annoyed now.

“Get up. Now”

I made my way up the wooden steps, creaking with each step I took. The attic was a large showcase of moldy wood and dead spiders, the smell of mothballs entering my nostrils. The smell of rotting entered my nose. As I stepped into the attic, the door behind me closed furiously, and I was stuck. I pounded on the door, I didn't want to be up here all alone.

“Mother! Let me down! I don’t like this!”

A raspy voice sounded from behind me, toward the window where the only shroud of light entered, and I made my way to this voice. “Hello?”

The voice spoke again, and I saw a dead mouse, brain pooling at the edge of her opened skull, the red blotching its white musty fur, its eyes looking like black saucers, as its pupils edged toward me. Its mouth twitched into a smile.

“You came up for me?”

“Only cause I was ‘supposed to.”

“Right…right.”

“You're dying.”

“You're not asking me if I am, you're telling me.”

“Yes.”

The mouse laughed, and its tail began to wag.

“Sis?” I managed to choke out.

The dead thing nodded “Hmm…”

“Dinner is ready.”

“Hmmmm…”

“Ma said you have to go eat, she said you have to.”

The room got colder as now the room was pitch black, and my sister was not illuminated in white. I felt my hooves touch splitting wood, I felt sweat creep down my back. It looked at me quizically, tilting its head sideways.

“You feel bad for me?”

I shrugged.

“Don’t. There's gotta be something in the attic. Something gotta die. You know?”

I nodded.

“There's got to be a rotten piece of flesh for every dead body, every sad song for a broken heart. God was murdered long ago, and everypony is focused on figuring out who did it. And nopony accepts that this is the way it must be. There is no use fighting against the one constant life brings us. You’re either dead or you're not.”

“Are you dead?”

“I’m dying, yes.”

“Is Mother dead?”

“Who?”

“Mother, is she dying?”

Sis began to laugh, sounding as though every vocal chord was breaking, and the mouse began to inch its way toward me.

“Listen to me. There are things in the woods, in the world, watching you step, watching you eat, watching you sleep.”

“The fleas?”

“They want to be you. They pretend to be what you know. They take the place of friendly faces.”

“Mother?”

The voice gripped me.

“You have no mother. Only fleas.”

And then I awoke.

I awoke amongst my beautiful theatre, the wood of the stage before me, the golden hues of the lights, the curtains shade of red. I came across an object lying down on the stage, and upon further inspection, I saw that it was a mirror. My friends! This made me joyful because I had not seen a mirror in so long.

I was so gray—my fur. My eyes, my everything, it was gray, bland, as I looked at myself and myself looked back at me and we watched each other and judged each other and I was so gray and myself was too. And then behind me, I saw a figure. I turned slowly, quietly, for a wave of nostalgia rolled over me, and as I turned, I saw a ghostly figure at the top of the theatre. A pony. It looked calm and peaceful, and it was because of this I stood still, and was not alarmed. It floated towards me slowly, soon coming to my ear, where I saw the body was white, and the hair was blue. It reminded me of watercolors. It spoke gently to me.

“There is an evil one coming, and there is a grander evil waiting beyond the world.”

It began to emerge into me, and it felt like a warm bath my mother made.

“The Solace Hotel, you will see yourself at the Solace Hotel. 253.”

And one final word before it was gone.

“I love you.”

A beat.

I stared at the mirror now, looking at myself, wondering about the ghoul, how I knew it, and how it loved me.

“I’m pretty.”