Your Human and You: Buried Above The Ground

A DANCE WITH DEATH

Preface.

Foreword.

PART I ... On A Forgotten Text.

PART II ... The Painted Crow.

PART III ... A Dance With Death.

PART IV ... Buried Above The Ground.

PART V ... The Extinguishing Consciousness.

PART VI ... Sleeping And Singing Of Damnation.

Afterword.

"And so I stood on the boundaries of life, the existence, and peered outwards onto death and unto every thing, every true thing, every existing thing, every living thing. Everything was a dark ocean, there is nothing to see, and it is deep, a very deep and empty world."

What does it all mean, why does it all matter, why does it all stand, if we all die in the end, anyway.

PREFACE

What does a historian see when they look back, what he see is death, only the death for it is everywhere, it is constant and it will never cease. Only the historian is aware, aware of how we are blind to the amount of history that is constantly stuffing into our mouthes. Blind to time, our place in it. We ignorant of history, ignorant to death. Only for which the historian sees, and that he says in the messages he leaves on crumbled pages in torn branches sticking into our backs.

Who are we to shed a single tear from our eyes over another dead soul, in the flood of hundreds more. It is simply another in an unending parade of death running through our streets, our forests, our oceans and fields and homes. Why are we so surprised when when we join the dancing death, the stallions, the mares and the foals. Blood In your spit and urine and semen. Your individual death is meaningless, any individual death means nothing. You are not a person, you are but a statistic. The animals hunted and eaten, bodies rotting in slimy graves. Plants ripped straight from the earth. The sick, and insects flooding your ears. The infirm, the worms crushed beneath blades. The shattering of bones and molecular bonds. The disintegration of the corpse and atomic structures belts. Happening at every moment, in a blink every of a million nanoseconds. Time not catching up, everywhere and nowhere. The cries of trillions begging the question, what is the point, if everything dies in the end?

FOREWARD

Written and researched by, Queen Chrysalis

In the morning on a lonely day I tried to kill myself. Some months before that I molested Anon in his sleep. I sit on a chair in the kitchen, softly gliding the kitchen knives across my neck, once I pierced my flesh. I suffocated myself under a bag, feeling the room contract all around me. Only flashes.

~~i couldn't remember how i came to be there~~

Peeling flesh of my skin in dreams, raped by a horde of my changelings. Stuffing me with there liquids, slimy green flooding my ears and mouth. Sticking branches into my eyes, stuffing rocks up my vagina. Ripping my insides out, feeding themselves with the ecstasy with stuck tongues licking my skin. Myself wailing, screaming and crying from the dirt I to be buried under.

I wish to be raped by Anon, I want him forcing me down against the floor, his cock deep in my mouth while my cry painful and calling for help muffled under the skin of his cock. I want to be thrown into a well and left there until I am nothing but dust. I want him to fill me with his semen, I want to be seen as nothing more than an object. For him to use, and not to feed. In waves losing chunks of time, suffering in the walls, I want him to grab at me, wrestle me and hit me. Break me, destroy anything I have left.

~~why do i stay living~~

I don't wish to be alive, I wish to be dead, and I want my body to be raped while I stay still. once they find my body after weeks of use, I am nothing but a pile of semen and bones

bloody, bloody

ashes myself

battered and starved

clawing at a mountain of nothing

raped, raped, raped

I want to die
I want to die

I want to die
I want to die

I want to die
I want to die

I want to die
I want to die

all heavy stones crushing my back, unable to move

cocks filling my ass, my pussy, my mouth, my ears, my nose, my ears

leave me to be raped by more and more

I am finally alive

PART ONE

On A Forgotten Text

And so death brings me to a time in Equestria, where disease, filth, muck, semen, rape, poor and starved lived within the walls of Canterlot, where everything was clouds of brown smoke and filthy sidewalks. Scenes of rape in alleyways, muck flooding the streets where the hooves of ponies touched. Where the princesses stayed in the castle, the cowards they are and guards protecting the filth of there hooves.

21 years until the first human in equestria is discovered

Ponies on the streets looked like litter, and there was one colt. Where the cloud of mystery was always floating above him, raining drops of dirt into his mane. I will start at the beginning of his story, to which the fog is already thick. I do not know at the time in which he was born, with all my research on the figure he will grow to be. I have found so little, but I hope to paint something. Almost impossible to verify even his very existence, the notes, artifacts, pieces of paper stuck in trees. Clues within objects in dirt. The documentation of who he was, is destroyed or hidden in the dark abyss of forgotten texts. In which I was lucky to find a clear name, Alec.

A name most would not think to call there new-born colt. What is interesting to note that there is absolutely no information into where his parents were, no mention of a mother or a father. I find this fascinating and disturbing, He was known as an outcast as he grew through his teenage years. In bins of trash on piles he would make love to prostitutes in the night. And leaving without paying, leaving a knife stuck in there throats. Accounts of this vary, the number of victims range from 20 to 60 estimated bodies found. He would never be traced, even with his semen being found in the victims teeth and one incident, completely filling a mares ear.

In 3 years span until the next incident, nothing is made of his whereabouts. When Alec was 15 years old he foretelled the deathes of several towns ponies that lived near the cliffs of Canterlot, now to take a note. During this time, witches and witchcraft was a plague, a fear. Rituals and worship was widespread during these times and the towns ponies feared what he said. Alec said that a flock of a hundred crows came to him in his sleep, flooded his room with there feathers as they awoke him. The crows whispered to him that 20 towns ponies will plummet to there deaths into the jagged rocks below. The ponies terrified quickly formed a search party in which they began exterminating any crows they could find, lighting them with torches, sticking them with tools, hanging them on doorsteps of mares feared to be witches. On tree-tunks, crushing them with rocks and so on. The mob, mad, filled with rage and terror came to a clearing, in which a hundred crows were gathered, seeming to be waiting for them. And there vision clouded with hatred and fear, rushed at them with all their might, brandishing there knives, pitchforks, shovels, rocks, torches and nails. The crows on command, seemed to disappear into thin air, and with that 20 towns ponies fell into the jagged rocks below where they were all dashed to bits and pieces.

When all the cries were ceased the crows came to Alec, there deed done and finished they came to reward him. In eye witness report and even a post on the magazine. Alec was found swarmed with female crows feasting on his cock, his cum they were drinking and eating and filling there cloacas with his semen.

After this incident, Alec was known as "The Canterlot Sorecer" Everywhere he went there a flock of crows would settle, female crows would always follow him, on his shoulder. Sleeping with him In the moonlight, in this time Alec began to view Equestria and Canterlot as nothing more than a mote of dust. Everything that he would see would burn into his mind, leaving that impression in his mind forever. In letters he described Canterlot as "Crawling hooves of dust and stone" He felt he was being consumed by the city, being devoured by "A monstrous mouth of bleeding brown sharpened teeth, into which every Mare and Stallion struggle and be carried down a throat that never closes and never breathes through the layers of dust."

After 15 years of Alec raising himself in Canterlot, He was forced to leave, the Princesses came out from there bedchamber from the protests that sparks due to the famine arising to when farmers in Canterlot found the food being pecked at by crows and leaving black marks of slimy liquids. But this was just the only account that was for the call of his departure, but also in part with his relationship and involvement with a high-born, planned to be the third Princess of Equestria alongside Luna and Celestia. But at this time she was young and naive and they kept it a secret for a unknown number of years. But it is the reason for her death that is the main reason for his exile, Found dead with the apparent slashing of the throat.

It is unknown if it was caused by Alec or of a suicide, But the slash was caused by that of a silver coin, In which she teared into her neck or he had. The coin was never found and evidence couldn't be ruled out but letters between her and Alec were found and this is what caused the main part of the exile. Alec never mentions the event in letters and in a cryptic wording he describes his own exile, he writes

And I waited in Canterlot for that sun to go down, to rest, the Never resting sun. It doesn't disappear behind the mountains and roofs, the crows lick at my skin and dick. Trying to comfort the rotting stallion, there is a wall around me so dark I almost think it is only a shadow. There is no light, there was nowhere the light, cover my eyes and rest from that glaring. I shook the shackles and lifted the noose, there is but the dirt underneath my hooves, and the chains holding me down, ready to throw.

TO BEAR THE HOOVES OF THE BLACKEST BANNER

So little is known of what happened to Alec in his exile from Canterlot, only theories can be deduced by the actions upon his return to Canterlot 20 years later, When he stepped back into Canterlot after 20 years he was a completely different stallion, he was wiser, he had become a poet and a philosopher, but the words he would speak were far different from the other poets and philosophers of his time.

And yet, what had caused this change? Little is known but from what I have been able to gather, there is something. He had lived with a group of ethic zebras for some time in the jungles of the rainy region of Equestria. From old dusty letters he had made love to every female zebra and created interspecies babies of a stallion and a zebra. He had also claimed to spend time with a dragon that left her home and had also made love to it, but from then on he tells nothing more. He became so unorthodox, so different from everyone and everything. His belief system was so detached from the religions of the time it is rare that he would be tolerated for having it.

And with this stems one of the greatest folkloric stories of the time, one that is wildly known in modern day Equestria but none ever know it was connected to Alec. It centers on a small village nestled at the very foot of an unnamed mountain. A wandering sorcerer made his way to this village, and the village ponies believing that the wander could foretell the future, they gave him a place of great honor and omitted him to stay, he lived there for 2 years and became the most respected Stallion in the entire village. His predictions would always come true, he knew when it would rain, how the crops would grow and how they would turn, knew when the mares would give birth and In one account with the pleading of a mare seemed to had formed a baby inside her to give birth. He knew when an eclipse would occur and even who would live and who would die. He prophesied which such accuracy that all the villagers, the stallion and the mares within the first year became worship and all believed him to be god himself.

The next morning all the villagers came to his home and around it waiting for him to leave and all bowed as he exited. He then announced that a mare shall came to his tent every night at 12 to give his seed to, because in a weeks time a widespread plague would occur that would give all the mares unable to give birth and that the ones infected with it need to come to him to free them of the disease. All of them fearful and without a second of hesitation agreed and all waited until the first was sick, she came to him in the night desperate and begging he let her in, in a letter that Alec writes which is never spoken of in the story, he writes

Her lips are sweet, and her inner walls are moist, she speaks to me as I thrust into her. She says she promises we will all give everything to you, everything that you need. We will provide everything for you, her moans are like a tune, I can feel myself getting close and she feels it to, I grip her thighs, so perfect. My seed flows into her like water, so quick to fill as her scream can be heard all around.

Every night for almost 365 days, he does to a new mare and an old one. The nights boom with echoes of moans. One night a restless Stallion spotted the prophet at the very edge of a high cliff looking out onto the rocky landscape, and on his shoulder there was a crow. And the crow seemed to be whispering into his ear, When the prophet had learned that this man had seen him in conversation with the crow, he then pronounced that the man will be found dead by nightfall. But only in one hour the man dropped dead in only one hour, Seemingly for no reason whatsoever.

For 7 days 7 nights the prophet did not emerge from his tent, the ponies anxiously wondered what would happen and when he would exit, what would happen to there food? the mares? and even the existence of there beautiful village, they feared most that he would leave them. At the end of the 7th night, when the sun was just beginning to rise, where the rays from it slowly struck the ground he would emerge from his tent.

The villagers had gathered outside, the feeling of something keeping them vigil if he would need something from them. Some of the mares turned around and lifted there tails. When he finally emerged however, all of them gasped in horror, over the prophets entire body was covered in pitch black crow feathers, and his eyes were deep and black and did reflect the sunlight.

With a terrifying, croaking voice like that of a man, crow and injured dog bent together to form words he announced, that the crops would no longer grow, that the mares would no longer be able to give birth to there foals, and that all the filly's and colts would fall asleep and never wake up. The Stallions would lose their sight and legs and lie limp on the ground, unable to see what was around them, all powerless to move away as the animals came down the rocks to devour them, the Mares would have all pieces of flesh removed, ears, noses, lips, hooves, legs and vulvas. Their manes would grow long and long and would be trampled underneath there hooves, forcing them to shuffle In force. That they would all lose their memory and not be able to remember anything, where their homes were, no longer recognize the smiles on the faces of their foals, bury them underneath dirt. That only one among all of you, only one colt would live, only one survive, unharmed and that colt would be chosen by a random chance. There was no way to affect the outcome, no reason to it at all.

And with that, the prophet disappeared, he simply vanished into the air.

The story of the village situated on the very foot of the mountain came to a nearby town with the arrival of a colt, he was walking from the mountain that was covered in black, ashes around and in the distant a black fire was blowing in the wind, a thick smoke covering the area, casting a great shadow. The colt had trudged through the rocks and the steep drops that populated the entire side of the mountain and through the hills, he was carrying a large flag, a long black banner, crows were atop it, chewing at it, chipping at the burnt stick. He was struggling to keep it afloat, he was malnourished from the journey, and the flag was stiff and solid black. It wasn't waving in the air, no wind. The story he told terrified the villagers, The flag the colt said, had been white, stained with black, a deep red. The blood of his friends, family. He had done his best to bury there bodies underneath the dirt, but the crows were on them now. And now all he could do was bear the banner, the black banner, the blackest banner, to remind himself of them.

The story was made a myth, The possible truth was that the village had been burned to the ground, and the most if not everything was fabricated, It has not been proven if Alec even was the prophet, the letter he wrote could not even be directed to this story, but to something else entirely, and the rest of the letters have either been destroyed or lost to time. From examining parts of the story it can be deduced that is likely was just a story, made-up by somepony years and years ago.

And with this, I am not even close to understanding anything about the 20 lost years of Alecs life.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DIE

In Alecs return to Canterlot after 20 years would be the cause of centuries of terror, anguish, torment and oppression, the violence of everything that was already happening prior, would explode and expand even more then it already was. He was the catalyst for the apocalypse that would occur.

The reason for his return is uncertain, the years prior had been relatively slow, groups of peace had been popping in and out across the city, the princesses had been sweeping out the filthy roads and alleyways. And for the time, all was quiet. It is possible that Alec felt that this was an opportune time to return to Canterlot, he might of felt that his Philosophy had reached that point of completion, and it was now ready for dissemination to the world.

When Alec walked once more through the gates of Canterlot, he was a very different Stallion than he was 20 years earlier. He was gaunt, he no longer possessed the muscles he had years ago. His mane was longer and more curled, dirty and disheveled. He carried everything he had on his back, a black and grey robe, and a satchel with some food. His eyes had not changed, they were still a dark grey, still piercing, still cold.

8 months until the first human is discovered

The ancient mind of the ponies then were limited, and constrained. All around him were philosophical areas that were not to be traveled, and to travel in those strange lands, meant the destruction of self, the death of the body. We are weak philosophers, not many would have the strength and will necessary to make the voyage.

Alec immediately began teaching upon entering the walls of the city. He did not shout his message, he stood on street corners, and rather stopping individuals during crowds. Pulling them aside and speaking to them, one on one quietly. Alec insisted that he knew who in the crowd would accept his message, that it wasn't on random. He knew who would truly hear him, listen to him. From what I could find, he was extremely successful in pulling members. By the end of his first night back In Canterlot, he had almost 15 devoted followers.

Alec continued recruiting in this way for several weeks. His intense and harsh preaching style, unorthodox beliefs and words, and perhaps the most important, the visibly growing crowds around him. Would quickly catch the eyes of the royal guards.

All around him, dark clouds were gathering, black rain drilled into the dirt. Crows flocked to roofs and streets, pecking at the ground. Every step he took cared him deeper into the muck and grime of the even deeper underbelly, of Canterlot.

On the 15th day of Alecs teaching in Canterlot, he was approached by a young colt. He had long scars across his face and down his chest, like the scales of a vicious snake. Serpents intertwined, they held him. Like a caring mother to comfort him, stroking his face and down his chest. And his voice was low, and dark, A grating sound. And all the Stallions grow silent around, into the air there voices disappeared. Though they knew what they learned, knew philosophers and poets. Know of which is not, what it is. Of the elements in the tree, let the colt speak into the air, Show their generous spirits.

"All these questions you ask.." The child began, "Are only comments, that dance all around the problem. With fine words and such delicate manners softly, approach you. But yet you, circle your real desire, as the filly's and colts would circle in our games. Hooves over eyes, smiling and in such giddy enjoyment. You do not wish to find that which is obscured, you wish to not find it."

And at this, Alec closed his eyes, and he rolled back his head softly. As if he was looking upon something both the high and within. The Doctor, who tendered those with sores, poured into their wounds. Foul salts, grew angry and then replied with a harsh voice.

"We seek truth" The Doctor said, "Only for that we seek, and that we spend our lives searching, with the words we reveal that which is covered. And we root out that which Is false, those whose falseness is discovered in there tongues, there contradictions. There are none here who avoid the truth, we are all honest, the honest Stallion. All that we have wished to ask we have already asked."

Some of Stallions around muttered, and nodded, but most rested their eyes on the colt. Onto his scars, onto his deformity. And they were uneasy, and the child spoke.

"Then why has no one asked the question? why hasn't anyone said the words we all long to hear, why have I not heard those words on your lips, that you whisper softly in your sleep. When you are restless, and your heart cannot stop pounding. Inside your chest to be set free, of the prison that is your life, to which you enslave every part of your body?"

The Doctor began to sweet, and was angry at the colt, and said "You are only but a crippled colt, what question could you ask that I could not?"

And Alec spoke, his voice a cold harsh breeze, quickly silencing the assembly. All pressed their hoof to their chest and quickly drew their robes around them, all shuddered. As if they knew not where they were, or where they were going. All were lost on a desolate path with no stars left to guide them, all the stars lay dead in the ground.

"He wants to know" Alec said, "What happens when we die"

And he said, then

"The universe is dark all around us, the eternal shadow. A mass of stars and air hold it together, but as thick as the wood of the hardened trees, and it is into that which we go. When all our bodies are killed, and we are killed, only killed, stuffed. Killed by time, killed by life. I promise you, I promise you this! that there is no such thing as a natural death, there is no death at the end, being born is a sentence of death, giving birth is an act of murder."

"Every one of you have murdered your colts, you have all murdered them, all of them. And that is what being means, the physical shock of this, being born as what you are here. The unbearable trauma, the Stallion clinging desperately to the edge of a cliff, forced to release his hooves by a fierce wind. Many have said that death is like a deep sleep, a restful calm slumber. But is not peaceful and neither is it restful, and the ones who have told you this, only seek to make themselves feel better, what life is, but I do not care about your feelings. Because your feelings are meaningless, completely and utterly meaningless."

"Death is the greatest horror of all, immediately upon leaving the body. The deceased being becomes the sole spectator of a marvelous panorama of twisted and bent hallucinatory visions, all the things become the cloudless sky. The clearest mountain of glass it becomes, opens up from the blackness, and It punctures the air above it with its curled fingers, and causes the purse ecstasy of death to rain towards the deceased. There are no words to describe what it feels like, what it truly feels like. You cannot know it, it is as if the princesses themselves have bled out onto the ground, and everywhere, everywhere it smells of it, the stain of it. We are all soaked in it, and it smells of copper."

"But this is all false! it is a great spectre, a phantom. The anguish of the great withering spirt. Reflected upon the purest drop of the nothingness. And that spirt stays, cocooned in the clear glass mountain, rising screams and cries of suffering. And then finally all ceasing into the silence, echoing everywhere. Lingering in the air, the space. And through every time, the visions of the death stop all in one clean and perfect moment, of the absolute, the impenetrable nothingness. Everything, simply..."

"Stops."

"But in grief we do not claw at ourself, we do not tear our flesh. We do not gnash our teeth, for though it will last for as long as it possibly can. There is no suffering, and no lack of suffering, no joy, no lack of joy. There is no cause, and there is no cause of the causes. There is no death, because there is no life."

"This is the question, and this is the answer. We are all trapped together, stuffed together, all piled together. With no order, we, just a pile of limbs and faces and legs and hooves. And you may cry out from the weight, please, please, please, please release me. Please just let me breathe. Please just me stand, but there will never be any reply, as there was never a cry to reply to, once you have the answer, your life is over."

"All of you here.. If you have heard my voice, you life is over, your life is over. Because you had sought the truth, and now you have it. Death is truth, and truth is Death."

PART TWO

The Painted Crow

Alec and his followers would had likely remained simply another minority inside the bustling walls of Canterlot. Never spreading out into the land of Equestria, If It had not been for the horrible persecutions that they would suffer, even taking into the account of the radical and disturbing nature of their beliefs. They likely would never have suffered those persecutions if it had not been for the death of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and the series of murders that would follow. And including the discovery of humans and the spreading horde of rape, terror, and anguish soon to come in the following months.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or for which I will call her, Princess Cadence. Was the aunt of the two royal Princesses, Celestia and Luna. At the time Alec was already well settled in Canterlot, it had been several months since his arrival, and he gathered around him a band of 50 disciples, as well as a larger group of more casual converts, and the numbers at this point become sketchy, considering the events that are to follow, at best the estimated number of followers would be around 100 or more. Alec and his followers no longer had to seek new followers on the streets, all of them were simply free to preach as they wished. And the word of his strange beliefs began to draw larger and larger and larger audiences, his sect was becoming self-replicating and self-sufficient.

This is most likely how Princess Cadence came to be in the audience one evening. It was not entirely uncommon for members of higher classes to come and watch Alecs sermons, considering the prior events that happened with Alec in his teenage years, royal guards were sometimes noticed among the crowd. Was Alec aware of who she was? did he sense her among the crowd, and that he picked her out because of it? I know certainly that Alec could read people. To understand their personalities, how they were, there weaknesses, there fears. That night, in the crowded plaza, the candles flickering with the wind around, casting shadows onto the faces of his followers. The night air filling Alecs lungs, his words cut through the crowd like blades, with such unexpected power that night, he swayed above all of them, shouting and then turning to whispering. Holding that rapt gaze of every mesmerized, and upturned face in the crowd onto him, listening.

10 members of the royal guard were sent to settle and quell down what had become a noise disturbance in the dark moonlight, one of them, Francis, whose family name is lost to time later told a writer of his experiences that night, I will quote him here in his entirety.

"It was a horrible sight, I have not forgotten it, not for a moment. I've seen battle, I know what that is, This was just exactly like a battle, but with less dead, but that just made it worse. When we got to the plaza we just thought it was just a regular disturbance, some random religious cult, practicing their ecstasies, all were dancing, they had their hooves straight up, stretched as much into the sky as they could. Their heads were all lolling back and forth on their shoulders, their legs were going everywhere, kicking, jumping, running around or just rocking back and forth in place, still. We just started pushing them all aside, ordering them all to go back to there homes, but it was like none heard us, they just kept dancing and dancing. Thats when I started getting worried, I pushed one of them, the mare fell to the ground hard, but she kept dancing, withering and shaking on the ground as if she was having a stroke. It just wasn't right, everything wasn't right, its as if we weren't there at all. The others felt it to, I saw it in there faces. We pushed a bit harder, its strange.. I've fought for the empire, wounded several times. But, I was starting to panic, By the time we got to the center, the middle. I was sweating and my heart pounding, almost like it was clawing at my chest, begging to be free. Thats when we saw her, I couldn't take my eyes of her, her head hung down, she was holding the hilt of a blade, and that blade was driven so hard through her neck, that you could see the tips of her hoof coming out the back. There was blood everywhere, absolutely everywhere. I've never seen so much blood before, out of anything, not a pony, not an animal. There wasn't blood on a single one of them, their leader, he was standing right there right in-front of her. He was so close to her, but there wasn't a single drop of blood on him, he was watching smiling, thinking, he didn't say a word, silence. He was humming, standing so tall, surrounded by blood, humming..."

Alec looked on the death of Princess Cadence as a miracle, it was the first and the most important miracle of Alecs faith, and to his followers. And It marks the true birth of his faith, and that death marks the beginning of Alecs deification. What seemed to the ponies of Canterlot as a senseless murder, was to Alec and his followers as the ultimate act of faith, faith in death over rationality.

Alec taught that the two conflicting forces in the universe are not good and evil, but negation and life. Life is the animating great power that which gives everything its movement, negation is the undoer, it is the force that ends the creation, destroys everything that which is made, born, created. Life is represented in existence by rationality, or reason. Reason is that creative force of everything, the world, universe. It is constantly with no stop, no end, always constructing and building new ideas and bringing them forth through effort, into the material world. Negation is just that, the negation of everything living, life, creation, being. It represented in life as Death, the great horror. But it actually fulfills a much, much larger role, it is negation that is at work. When a theory is disproved and thrown, when a plant is ripped from the dirt and uprooted. Negation is the opposite of life, the antithesis of life, the end of everything, everything.

Alec believed that ponies cling to rationality, so desperate holding onto that Cliff. They long for it, because it represents life, and there is the inherent fear of death, and they recoil from it, ignore it, pretend that it does not exist. Desperately, desperately hold to their sense of reason and fairness in an attempt to convince themselves that negation will not affect them, and the things that they create, have created, and that they themselves, will not be negated. Alec believed that Negation is more powerful than life itself, far easier, because it is easier to destroy then create, it is far easier to die than to give birth, it is far easier to kill another. Although the universe is in a state close to balance these very forces, the scales are In favor and tip into the direction of negation.

Eventually, the universe will be overcome by death, all the deaths we see around us. All those little destructions, from the swatted flies, to the rotting trees, to the dying pet, the death of a lover, a family. All of these are simple echoes of the great universal death that will be our ultimate fate. As we rot, so all of existence will rot, as we die, so will the very concept of being.

This is known to Alec and his followers as the great negation, and they look upon it with intense yearning. And this was the subject that Alec spoke of on the night he met Princess Cadence.

The crowd first curious, then apprehensive, the words sounding harsh to their ears, "not everyone, not everything! surely something survives?" a few call from the crowd, looking for some qualification. That there is an apocalypse, "but if you believe, and if you choose the right god then you will be spared, but no!" Alec screams, "NO! it is not an apocalypse, there will be no apocalypse because the apocalypse will be dead, there will be nothing to destroy, no universe to end, nothing, no one will be spared. Being spared is not the same as being saved, because it is the dead that will be spared, the dead will be saved. And we will all be dead, everything. And we will all be saved.." The crowd is now more restless, they shift back and forth slowly, they grasp at the lining of there robes with sweaty hooves. And Alec is gesturing now, his movements are frantic, but powerful. All of them are In his sway, they are all looking at him with awe, he is almost radiant as he pulls a mare from the crowd.

Her shawl falls around her shoulder and she is beautiful, her mane is multicolored, purple, a deep reddish pink mixed with yellow. It is long and gorgeous. Her wings stretch out momentarily, just as radiant as her coat, and her tail swishing to the side. And he speaks to her, and she to him, the crowd all quiets instantly, to hear them. "You" Alec says "Let me see your hooves" "My hooves, why?" Cadence responds "Just hold them up" and so she does "You are a mare of wealth, I can see this in your hooves" "Yes I am" She says, "You could of just asked me this, and I would have told you" There is a short ripple of laughter through the crowd, they like her, this mare, this mare that shouldn't be there, they like her for her fearlessness, because they are afraid. And Alec smiles at her, and she at him. "Do you have a husband?" He asks, "how improper, not the way at all, yes" She answers "And a child?" He asks, "Yes" She answers "And do you love that child?" "Of course, as every mother loves her child, cares for the child" "And you know that this child will die" "Of course, all mares will die, it is the way" "But do you know it? do you really, truly know it?, do you think about? Do you lie awake at night, the dark all around you, so cold. Listening to that filly breathing in the next room, that gentle soft in and out, the slow, soft gentle sighing, and knowing that filly is already in the ground, already buried deep, already cold. Do you know that her hooves will grow so cold like ice, and will cease to move. And that you will hold her hoof, that small hoof, and you will mourn, your tears flow, you will cry. But you will never feel the warmth, those hooves that held your hooves in that grip that is so strong, somehow. And somehow the grip of a filly who has no fear, that has no ability to see life for what it is, isn't fear born into us the moment, the very moment, the very moment that we understand?"

"Doesn't that fear come in the very moment, the very moment you see life, look around you, you notice the world, the outside. The world of the foreign things, the not you things, and that fear creeps into you when you realize that this shell, this shell around you, this pink and breathing thing, it offers no protection from even a needle, a rock, a sharpened edge, a broken piece of glass, that which is only sand. In that very second of knowledge that you become afraid of, afraid for the rest of your life, and do you think about that filly, it is pierced with swords so sharp and deep crimson blood spilling, swallowed by beasts of the night, eaten by desperate Stallions, torches lit, set on fire, tossed from a balcony, head bashed in, brains bashed out everywhere, dead, dead, dead, dead, a dead thing. Your child is already a dead thing, and you are already a dead thing, for were you not once a filly too? And didn't you feel those very same fears, those very same fears that your filly is feeling right now? coursing through her body like electricity, tensing every single muscle, cramping in every inch of nerve in her, the heart racing so fast, didn't you feel it too? And do you think about it, about how will you die, how that it could happen at anytime, does anypony, does anything live to their last year? the very, the exact limits of their life? No, because every life is cut short, every life is cut in half, there is no such thing as a natural death, every death is a murder, and you will be murdered just the same like everything else. Struck by lightning, trampled by a carriage, trampled by another pony, stabbed by a lover, stabbed by a father, a mother, a sister, stabbed by a stranger, strangled by their hooves and left to bleed out and die and rot In an alleyway, your body not found for weeks, for weeks, in the beaming hot sun, rats on your hooves and face, insects in your mane in your fur, killed by the muck, cursed, drowned in the lake you swam as a filly, drowned in the bath, choked, strangled, always and forever, without end. These hooves on your throat, these hooves on your chest forcing you down deeper, pressing in, pushing down so deep, no more breathing but theirs, their breath on your face, filling your nose, your nostrils, the spit and then semen in your mouth! this is LIFE! THIS IS LIFE!"

"This is what we are, and there is not this, nothing, nothing different than this. No place that is safe, there Is no golden age, and there is no age free of death, there is no immortally. And your filly, and your mother, your father, every single one of your friends, every pony on the street, every pony in the buildings that you pass, your teachers, your enemies, yourself. They are all dead, they are all already dead, and you are dead, so how can you feel any love at all, you are loving a corpse, you are kissing your mothers dead forehead, you are holding your fathers dead cold hoof, you are laughing with a corpse, playing in a cemetery, screaming. You are holding your dead daughter, you are cradling a piece of wax, you are nursing a cold mass of dead flesh. And if this is so, and it is so, do not lie to yourself, do not say that being alive made it all worthwhile, do not say that they have lived full lives, because no one, nothing lives any life at all, nothing lives, and if this is true, then why, why do you stay here, why do you continue living, why do you not have the courage and the heart, and the truth inside you, to take this knife. To hold it to your throat, to overcome the whims of life, to defeat life because death is truth, and truth is death. And we move towards that which is true, we shuffle towards it, we shuffle to it. But you have the courage to run towards it, run to it, to welcome it, to not live in fear of it. To not live in the dread of it, always pretending, always lying, saying that you don't see it, that it is not there, that these ponies are all alive, and that you are alive, when all you are is dead, and a liar, the same as everything, everyone, everypony else. Why do not tell the truth? Why don't you tell the truth?"

And with that, Princess Cadence grabbed the knife from Alecs hooves, held it to her throat point first, and drove it in so hard that her hoof passed out the back of her neck.

PART THREE

A Dance With Death

The royal guards immediately took Alec into custody, he was imprisoned for roughly a month, and then he was released without being charged with any crime. He had been severely beaten, his right hoof had been crushed so brutally that it never healed, and was remained curled and deformed until his death.

Twilight Sparkle and her brother, Shining Armor. Mourn the loss of Princess Cadence in the royal castle of Canter-lot

The predicament of the Canter-lot authorities can be perhaps, understood. Dozens of Alecs followers came forward to testify in defense of Alec, that Princess Cadence had killed herself, And Alec hadn't even put the knife to her neck or anywhere near her, all the while. Alec remained silent, he was dutifully taking his beatings and rough interrogations with nothing but a wry smile.

Despite the lack of evidence, Cadence's family and other relatives were actively seeking retribution against Alec, and the matter was threatening to become an outright scandal, so, what to do? Canter-lot at the time was undergoing a rough process, that of religion, witchcraft, and the threats from outside powers of evil, all different strains of evil, torment, and discord were existing within the walls of Canter-lot, practices of mass suicides, a worrying amount of necrophilia and cannibalism. And even without that, a large storm was brewing. That which will expand into nothing but a cloud of terror, the discovery of humans. But I will come back to this later, The authorities and the royal family didn't know what to do, how to act against one or the other without causing civil unrest, In the end, the royals thought it better to simply send Alec a message, his hoof was crippled, and his stature among his followers, they thought was irrepearably and irreversibly damaged, nothing hurts a cult more then seeing their leader suddenly brought down to the earth.

And with that they let Alec go, and he disappeared into the black alleyways of Canter-lot.

At first, the strategy of undermining Alecs religious authority seemed to have worked. All of his followers seemed to have all but disappeared from the streets, and no more public meetings were held. Alec himself completely disappeared, and anypony who cared to think about him at all, assumed that he had left Canter-lot to preach in the relative safety of the countryside of Equestria and further out.

It was three months later that the first of the secret massacres occurred. So called that because their existence was hidden for some time, or possibly because the links between normal crimes were not apparent at first, were a series of brutal, seemingly random murders that occurred within the streets of Canter-lot, by the end, something like 70 ponies had been murdered, daggers were shoved into their eyes, mouthes and throats. Many of those tear were targets were high-born, or high ranking ponies, others were simple merchants or peasants or just the everyday ponies. All we're assaulted as they walked on the street, in broad daylight, the su illuminating there attacks, in full view of any passerby's, the killers always managed to escape, they attacked their victims while dressed in plain brown cloaks. After approaching their target, grabbing the back of their head, and stabbing them multiple times with such terrifying force, the attackers would simply melt alway into the confusion, discarding their robes and becoming anonymous in the masses of ponies who would gather around to gawk and ponder at the heaps of gore upon the ground below.

At the time humans were the main suspects, let's turn the clocks two months back. The humans are first announced from the royal palace, all ponies gathered and listened to Celestia, in the first half of the second month humans would be thrown into the back of carriages, naked, stripped of there humaneness, raped, tortued, beaten, treated like slaves and tormented by ponies. Everything was accelerating, humans were subject to public executions from the rage of the death of Princess Cadence, evil was filling the minds of ponies. Most were forced to work in labor, they were carried on trains in cages, sold into slavery and sex slavery, used as experiments to test, inhumane punishments, tortured to the brink of insanity. 3 months later, humans were known throughout every inch of Canter-lot, and beyond Equestria. And this was the perfect time for Alec and his followers to began something that was nothing less than a guerrilla war against Canter-lot, and it would continue for many, many days and nights.

The murders sent a wave of terror throughout the city, because when violence is used against ponies, they don't take it lightly like they do on humans. The dark clouds were gathering faster and faster, crows stormed the rooftops and pecked at rotting bodies. They knew what death looked like, and they didn't care, they only cared once it was used against them. And these secret massacres set in motion a mass panic that would unravel the very fabric of the city. Rumors were circling around like a spiral of crows that screamed in the night, never ceasing or stopping. Crashing into windows, Anypony could be next in line. And with that, was the unsuccessful assassination of Princess Celestia and Luna. Was that of a young Stallion under arrest, who was only 15 at the time, and was put into harsh interrogation. And he admitted that Alec himself told him to carry out the murder, that it was part of the initiation ritual, that murder, was a sacrament of their religion. And that almost every follower of Alec had taken part in murder, or were preparing to.

"He told us to tear it all apart" He is recored as saying "He told us to push you all into the water"

And what followed was to be called the "Years of Blood and Ash"

Royal guards flooded into the streets like ants arresting any known followers of Alec, brutal interrogations gave them more names, more locations, and more arrests, the royal family ordered that every single inch of Canter-lot be searched, and leave no area not thoroughly searched at least twice. Guards broke into homes, tortured and killed any known humans that had even the slightest connection to Alec or even none at all. They confiscated property and searched everywhere, in cellars and rotting basements. Arresting any and all suspected with connection to Alec or any of his followers. The preasure was so intense that many ponies accused others of having connection to Alec to get revenge for past grievances.

Alec, however, was not found. Though many that were under interrogation claimed to know where he was hiding, he was never present when the royal guards arrived.

Frustrated, the royal guards punished his followers in his place, beat them, almost killing them. Torture was so commonplace many were done in broad daylight, some royal guards snuck away with mares that were accused and raped them in alleyways, beat them, bashed in there heads and left them to be eaten by rats and other disease. There semen filling the mares eyes, mouthes, vulvas and ears. That a copy to what Alec did in his young age to local prostitutes.

Some were made into slaves, some were burned alive. By far the worst fate however was saved for those who had publicly proselytized for the cult. They were taken to the places where ponies had been murdered and put into metal bindings, the intricate system of ropes and iron bars would contort there bodies into bizarre shapes. A dog with its curled legs, there legs high above their heads, in splits, ripping bones out. There stomachs arching forward and upward at the same and hooves and hands for the humans arching backwards and onto the floor. Liquid iron forced down into their throats, the death was unbelievable painful, and no-one had remorse. No sympathy, not for the family they might of had. So much liquid metal was poured into the struggling Stallion, man, Mare or woman that their organs liquified, a mixture of blood, steel and pus leaked from every hole in their body. Once finished, the judges would pour frigid water over the body to cool the mixture, steam would fly up everywhere around. Tinged with blood making thick red clouds that it was difficult to see and almost impossible to breathe. The bindings would then be removed, leaving the corpse frozen in place, a statue of their last agonizing moments. And it would stand there in the street, as a warning. Until the flesh rotted or was pecked away by birds, and all that was left was an empty twisted Skelton of bone steel and guilt. But no birds were ever present to peck away. the crows stay and flew around them in circles, once a mass of what seems to be a thousand birds circled one, fear and speculation was growing more and more. The ponies didn't know it, but the world around them was tearing apart, everything would soon collapse in on itself. But this was just the beginning.

Though persecution persisted for several years, the worst of it was probably over a year an a half. Public burnings became more frequent, one human, one that would come to be just as fearful as Alec himself was born from a mother, desperate in hiding from royal guards. Sending this boy into the war zone, and for him to grow up to be something so similar to Alec, the parallels can not be missed, how eerie there stories would be are terrifying. But I will continue this, later. For now, everyone was suffering, and Alecs followers were seen no longer as an upstart or new religion, but as nothing better than nightmares, sorcerers, witches. They became bogeyman, conjured up In the dead of night by stressful mothers, threatening their children to sleep.

Alec was apprehended exactly 5 years after he arrived in Canter-lot for the second time, he would be burned at the stake.

When they came to put their hooves upon him, even then they were slow. Their movements were strange and angled, as if they were guilty, and they felt it. Though they professed to be angered and were quick to dismiss, their movements betrayed their beliefs and all their fears were revealed. There are the undeniable truths in the faces of those who would destroy you and everything you know and are, not a simple death, but a death that rings out, rings out. A death that echoes everywhere in the world until that sound is exterminated by inertia, a death to fully end you, to erase you. This was the death that they had wanted for him, this was the death and the honer that they would give him.

That morning was a cold one. We all rubbed out hooves for warmth, crows above, all gathered to watch in the frost, there was almost never frost, so rare, and then there we were, on that day, and the frost came, the most perfect of signs, the most subtle of the acknowledgments. Because we knew that this was it, We are not a religion of the resurrections, Alec said, we are not believers in the second chances. The square was an empty place, there were no distractions to see, the royal guards read the proclamation loud, but we barely heard it. Those words meant less than absolutely nothing, it was if they were speaking in a foreign tongue, and, didn't we already feel so separate? didn't we already feel so different and so apart? Our tongues were the foreign tongue. And we had lost all hope of understanding, now and forever.

They tied his hooves with such force, jerking the ropes back with malice intent, a snapping sound heard. Im sure that they wanted to break his hooves, But Alec never said a thing, he never begged or pleaded, he never opened his eyes a single inch, his face was that look of someone in the most intense of happiness, the most strongest of ecstasies, he was very happy, so happy.

We wanted a last sermon, we wanted to be taught one final thing. Because it had not been enough, it was not enough. We were not better beings, we were not better ponies. We wanted him to say anything, anything to us, anything meant for us, anything! We didn't want it to be over with everything that was left, we didn't say, what we had wanted to say, but Alec said nothing at all, even when his chest was on fire, and his fur peeling and fire burning into his flesh. Because he had already told us everything, he had shown us everything, and there was nothing special about what he saw because, don't we all see it? Every day, every year all of us see it, all the time, and we don't need to know anything special about it, because we already know all of it.

This was all there was

And when they put the torch down to tinder, I was smiling grinning so wide, the fire started with such an aching swiftness, it didn't hesitate for even a moment, how honorable, it just went about its business, dancing. I was so proud then, when the fire ate away at his fur to his flesh and melted his bones. But I can only laugh, because they don't know the half of it. Many of us were crying, but they were fools and hadn't understand a single thing that had happened, it is not the sadness that those ponies feel, it is the desperation, it is the fear and the withering cold. That is the smoke that rings you, that is the smoke that hides you, and that you curl around your shoulders.

Like a blanket in the night time, it is the air that you breathe, and you cannot move away from it, because there is no away from it. No away at all, God knew this and he had put you here, he creates and he destroys, creates the one things that exist and destroys the things that never did exist. Undoes those that might have been, but never were, holds their heads under the water, and his reasons always uncertain, but his, certainly everywhere. Slowly compressing all fo peace until our legs and face and chest and knees and hooves are broken and touching and flooded into ourselves. All things that are made, and are thus limited, they are only what they are and no more, nothing can be built, or born, only be reproduced, only dumbly copied.

But now I remember a story that he told us, about this very thing. Before there was a history to think of, before there was a past or a present. All the ponies were of God and he of them, and God spoke to every Stallion and Mare, and he answered them on their prayers, there was a time when God answered the prayers of the ponies, when we didn't have to search for him and think of insipid reasons to explain away his absence. And he spoke to them in their dreams, and there was nothing but his will, every action and reaction were his and his alone, each single breath of wind, and mote of dust, there was only God in this world. And each Stallion was a piece of this, each Mare was a piece of this, with no existence in and of themselves but only as a part of the god will, the fragments of the greatest whole, the absolute.

And into this world there was born a single Stallion
With a sense of self
A feeling of otherness
Not the same somehow apart from everything and everypony that looked.
And everywhere he went he carried this feeling inside him
Always it was in his gut, pressing in onto his forehead.
He was bitter in happiness
And he was angered at peace
for it was never of him, and he was never of it.

Everything was separate
And he couldn't feel anything, his soul was untouched
Because it did not
Exist

And to no part of the spirit did he owe any allegiance to
For he was all stomach and heart and gut
His eyes saw only the earth and sky, and shit and vomit
Things as they were, and thus it made him doomed, made him ecstatic
Miserable and bitter, cunning and euphoric of all
And it was he who was the first Stallion, and it was he who was the first Hunter

The first to kill for food, the first to feel the need
To seek, to find and track and kill
To end things and to begin things
Was this not just like God?
Just what God would have done, and what he had done?
This was how beginnings and endings had entered into this world
No longer were they incorporeal things, that were left up for chance to decide
But now we're made physical, with hooves and legs and limbs of the uncaring drought.

And through every arrowhead and through sharpened stone
Through a gap in the flesh where time and nothingness stood
And death and the ending fell out and splashed their redness everywhere around
Blood was pouring into the rivers
Where he washed their skins and cleaned his hooves and face
And washed the smell right of it and off of himself
Blood flowed there and mades it's way into the salt blue ocean waves and tides
And the fish would drink that blood
Gathered up in schools and drunk with headiness of cycles of lifetimes on the land, and diffused with the salt and saline, so light now, so small it was now that none could taste it's coppery stinging, like needles piercing the flesh they couldn't feel.

But all were drinking, all were eating, and all had blood inside them which was not their own blood.
They had stolen the blood of another
Bloody and not wholly themselves any longer they were and never would be again
Now part of something else
The blood brothers they would never see, Never get to see and that we're already dead.

But none cared, and none complained
In fact, all felt better, all felt full
Stallions and Mares are creatures of appetites
And they had all traded their love for a full belly very, very long ago
And they all felt filled with it, and alive, both dead and all alive
And in the nights they whispered softly to one another
Laying close in the frost and dark surrounding them all around
Pressing into one another to feel the beating heart of another outside themselves
As the living proof, living proof that they were not the last, that they were not the very last one
Because when dark is everywhere all confidences are forgotten and buried
And Stallion is only a colt again, And Mare is only a filly again, without stick or blade or bludgeon.

And the world is as it once was, a wholly place of the animals
Where all churches are built over to honor the tooth and claw
And all intelligence is worth exactly nothing
A place of just pounding hearts and desperate running and crashing through the fallen tree limbs, branches caving in into the ground underneath the dirt all at once, thumbing in on themselves.
An unknowable chaos of the dense wilderness
Where the beasts of the forests would chant out into the cold and frozen night times.
"Who will kill! and who will eat! and who will die!"

And into those same nights the Ponies in homes whispered.
"The Hunter does us all a great service, and we've done so much to deserve it. With axes and arrows, fires and stones. He has fed us well, has opened up the world for all of us stranded and lost. So brave and strong, so cunning and so wise indeed he is, the best of all of us. Because he dreams of how it shall be, what will and be and with it he sees a better life"

And they all respected him, the respect to save for the violent, that has always been their leaders and always will be. Those that are condemned when they act. Those who live with hearts in their mouthes and hooves all twisting. The violence all they worship in the form of the same as them. When what we really worship is death, and for all those that can and will bring it to us. Because we long for it, we long for it.

And this was how he convinced them, to bend their backs. And angle their knees. To put their hooves onto the earth, and arches in their necks, muscles tensed and fur damp and sweating, Pushing weight onto weight onto weight. Holding themselves up, To make a solid height and a stable base
As good as stone and as strong. He used their trust, and with that they gave him faith
Freely all freely they had traded to him
And then he shook his bow and he flashed his eyes. He told them of the life they had gained, and his to give.
The only separate one, and the only different one
Who stood apart and felt nothing of life and nothing for it
And all those Stallions, and all those Mares.
Gave of their bodies, everything that there was
Every inch and every sinew
And made themselves all just things
Not ponies but steps
Not Mares but steps
Not Stallions but steps
Steps for his hooves, every back of his own kind
Every neck of a Pony
But still it wasn't enough
We must go further The Hunter said
I hunt the darkest games, he cowers In the shadows of the black blue sky above
And yet I still feel this gap in me
The empty space between the world and my soul
A nothing space, yes I feel it there
But there were no more Stallions, and there was no more Mares
No more backs and no more necks
So The Hunter asked the animals

Those that he had eaten, he asked their bones
He asked the dead mothers, and he asked the dead sons
He asked the ones hidden in the stones, in the crawlspaces and burrows
In the dark holes in the bark of the trees
In their leaves and in the water
And he showed them his bow, and he flashed his eyes
And all alone they all knew
All of them knew
They knew, they knew, they knew
They had always been separate
They had always had gaps, always had gaps
Had always had spaces where hearts could of been
Because God had made them first, but had not made them best
Had kept them in shadows and forests and fields
Had let them all be Hunted, always afraid
Afraid of being killed and eaten, afraid of being slaughtered
While they themselves killed and ate each other
God had let it happen
God had made it happen
And it kept happening everyday, and it would keep happening always and forever
Yes they all knew at that moment, the animals know everything.

And all In their thousands they bared their teeth
And all bowed their heads, every plant and every animal added weight, added height
And all the while they all laughed, secret laughs
All now taking place, all now a part
All as one, all without selves
Lost in the whole, the massive stair
Now tall enough, he shouted and raised above the clouds
To where the air grew thin, and to where the light blinked out
Up higher than this and to the highest point ever revealed and reached
The highest of all
And that Stallion placed his Hoof square onto the smalls of their backs
Square onto the napes of their necks
Square onto their eyes and their mouthes
He took their stairs two at a time
He ran and he was not tired
He was not tired, he was happy so happy
This was it
This was
It

And at the very top of the stair
Where he was alone, but so very not alone
He pulled back his string, and he tightened his bow
And he said nothing at all just breathed
And held it, a moment, right there, and then let everything go
No troubles
No fears
No ponies
No animals
No earth
No space
No souls
No nothing
No anything
And there were arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads everywhere
And one, only one
Stuck fast into the throat of God.

And God fell straight into the earth, with every bone broken
And that arrow was driven straight out from the back of his neck, flew high over the solid earth, and silhouetted against the beams of the sun

like the only tree left standing from the smokey and burned out ashes of destroyed woods
Like a Hunted animal dead on the ground
God bled out slow, his blood soaking the ground beneath him until his heart stopped
Like a stuck pig
Like a dog on a spit.

And that hoof that steered the mighty ships of the workings of the vast plains
In an instant, it all broke into a thousand jagged pieces pointing upwards
And it took only minutes for all those Ponies to come down
And without a thought, they all began eating
With their bare hooves they ripped apart everything that they could find
And ate until they were to full to move.

We are at that desperate banquet now, and if you listen
You can hear them chewing.

It is said that after he was burned, Alecs ashes were scattered by a sudden and powerful wind, covering the entire assembly, burning their eyes and filling their mouthes. And that so much ash could rise from a single body is considered to be the last miracle of Alecs religion, and it is one, of the greatest significance.

PART FOUR

Buried Above The Ground

The persecution of his followers had several unintended consequences, The Years of Blood and Ash forced most of the remaining followers to leave Canter-lot and Equestria all together, This "Exodus" lasted several painful, convoluted decades, they suffered such harsh and untold hardships, extreme prejudice and physical violence. Unable to settle anywhere in safety for more than a few years at a time or less, the beleaguered exiles eventually found their way to a few remote villages in unknown unnamed mountains, far away lands and even from the main island of Equestria itself. It is doubtful that Alecs religion would have survived anywhere other than in remote, inaccessible areas such as these I have described.

All that left was the humans, in those decades humans would grow out and extend across Equestria, always carried by any types of species in those lands, Ponies, Gryphons, Dragons, Zebras, Kirin's, and whatever else. One of Alecs followers climbing a high mountain and coming across a lone Kirin named, Autumn Blaze. And his many lost writings in which I only been able to obtain a few dozen, telling his 10 year story with her and her transformation into Alecs religion. In a letter he writes

Her words are so delicate, but in the same way derelict, she isolated herself at the very foot of a grassy and rainy jungle mountain top.

Parts of letters are heavily ripped and torn, I was unable to find any that hadn't been torn up or ripped in some way

Her breeding style is just like that of a mare, but different in her manners and movements, and soft harsh moans. As if I'm hurting her but she pleads for more, like a hungry cat.

The public ill-will towards Alecs religion, as well as the new mandatory destruction of their writings, has not only deeply altered the very character of Alec and his followers, but has also had great effect on how modern poets, philosophers, and scholars view Alec and his religion. All of Alecs teachings were covered from their original, written form and into an oral like tradition, that would be passed down from priest to priest. It was simply too dangerous to keep a record of anything, and after enough time had passed it was completely forgotten that there had ever even been written copies at all. The writings that I have collected over the years are all not finished, regardless of the care and the devotion in which his followers treated their cultural inheritance, inaccuracies must exist in those texts, we can never be sure of anything we read there.

The shroud of secrecy that fell over Alec had one other, unexpected effect, one that would, inevitably, in the end, cost hundreads of lives. And from this secrecy came "The Dance with Death" What had previously been an open air religion from the street preachers, could no longer be practiced openly. Not follower of Alecs words could even tell others that their faith existed, for fear of reprisals. Deprived of anyway to spread their own faith, they began to fear that their religion would disappear altogether. In reaction, priests found "The Dance with Death" A set of rituals and teachings designed to be a way of passing down religious traditions to the next generation, and so on. Its contents were kept secret, even from other followers, and overtime, this secrecy evolved from a method of achieving security over, to a religious sacrament in and of itself.

It reflected the extent of the chaos that was being inflicted on the religious community as a whole, even the mere maintenace of their religious were so important that it quickly became a divine obligation. Though the existence of The Dance with Death and their general outline has been often alluded to, the actual rite is still a very well protected secret. Only priests are allowed to undergo the ritual, and very little has leaked out to the wider public about how they work. Still, we know enough to paint a dim picture about what they are.

The rite involves ash, almost certainly in reference to Alecs burning at the stake. The supplicant is covered in ash from head to leg, and at one point seems to consume ash in vast quantities, Blood is then coughed into an iron bowl, but what follows is not a very clear picture, what continues may be that the bloodied ash is then consumed by all those that are present. Or that the student consumes it alone, cannibalizing himself in a ritualized absorption of his own death, And it also may be indicated that the mixture might have been used to coat the walls of the ritual room.

The rites were always performed in a cave or a crypt. Often, there was a special room built just for the ritual, the walls would always been pitch black, darkened by the smoke or the blood and ash mixture. To create an otherworldly and disorienting sensation. There would of been a single candle, and that light would have been absorbed remorselessly by the black walls, creating an unfailing atmosphere of the foreboding. After the ritual the priests would then emerge from the cave covered from head to legs in ash, and present the new priest to the community. And interestingly, it also seems that many times the inductee would have to be carried out completely unconsciouses, but this was not seen as a sign of failure. And stories of the apparently 5 hour time that the ritual would be preformed, it tells of orgies, necrophilia, and worship of the devil, and the ashes that would cover the priests would be mixed with both ashes from fires and of the dead. But these claims are not verifiable.

All this secrecy effectively protected them from the brunt of the prejudice against them, during the approximately, thirty to forty year exile from Canter-lot. When most finally settled atop mountains and far away lands in Equestria and not, the rites continued, and became an established part of their faith and religion together. They also created however, a very stifling atmosphere of the cloak and the dagger. And inner tensions began to mount within them, Ten years after their settlement, a priest had a vision, his name was "Naal" Another unusual name, a popular and very respected priest awoke on enight to find the spirit of Alec standing over his bed, the spirt was so large, Naal said that it was forced to hunch over, its black flat against the ceiling of Naals home. He was clad in a fiery iridescent armor, blackened and grey mix, a pitch black sword with a hilt of ravens feathers and the seemingly silhouette of a large crow by his side. Where his other hoof would be would of been, over it was instead a metal gauntlet, seemingly to be backwards making an inverted hoof. The apparition informed Naal that he was to become the leader of Alecs truth church, and that nothing more then the complete destruction of anything or anypony that opposed them, including unconverted followers of Alecs. And that nothing less than the total annihilation of Equestria, and most importantly the center of it, Canter-lot, which had grown fat and sickening then ever before.

With such a repellent message, Naal and everypony that was there was terrified, they were like a nomad tribe, always on the run they were in a horrifying ordeal, they did not believe it was over, or that it might never be over. Always the possibility of violence against them, this was there chance to finally be on the offensive, to give instead of receive what they had been for years. They were a desperate group, and Naal brought them a desperate religion. Exact figures our unknown, but before the end of Hall and his followers, they had all but exterminated the population of 15 neighboring villagers, and tribes sprinkled in between valleys and wet jungles. And these places simply ceased to exist, never to be resettled, legends said that any food or crop to grow in those areas would come out from the ground blood red and rotting, puking out putrid muck. And it would bleed that when cut, that tactics that Naal used were horryfing and fast, flying, they employed a self named tactic called "The Bloody Eagle" or "The Bloody Crow" gutting their victims, pinning their opens stomaches to their sides, hanging them upside from trees to bleed out onto the ground. And in one scene, a large tree covered by hanging rotting bodies, the crows were on them. In the only letter Naal writes of this experience, in which I quote.

There is no hoof upon us anymore, there will be no slowing, there will be no stopping, there will be no rest. Everything is for us, and nothing is exempt, there is no food without us, and none can eat it. There is no drink, and there is no air, all the earth will be red with our acts, filling the nonexistent air with its breath. All fields will become the marshes, and each hoofprint will pool with our legends. These very steps will be the reminders of us, as the earth wells up with their lifes blood, of the truth, all truths, all truths.

Words quickly spread to the surrounding communities, and Naals followers were quickly slaughtered in a violent stand off in a nearby forest, battle lasted a full day, a chaotic affair. It ended when a band of united towns ponies burned the entire forest to the ground, but not with repercussion. What followed was a sight none had seen, the air quickly filled with crows, ashes flew from them in a million pieces. Raining down and crashing into the ponies with such force that they were completely obliterated. The crows were on them in the end, and the fire burned into the ground with such force, that there was nothing but the molten dirt and blackened skies with dark melting clouds that would stay above that place swarmed with crows for 40 Days and 40 Nights before simply dissolving into the sky on the 40th night.

And with that, the old traditions and "The Dance with Death" would remain neglected, collecting dust in dark basements, fading away in the obscurest of history's recesses. But then, history can reassert itself in out lives in unexpected ways, threads of causality stretching themselves across lifetimes to interfere with us, help us, hurt us. Often, we are completely unaware of this, we don't see it happening until it is to late. We often talk about "Making history" but the truth of the matter is that we don't make it, it makes us.

TO BE REMISS

"All lives are wasted on Equestria, mine, simply more so" From The Diary of Frederick Mask

Of the quotes, and the poems that I have quoted in my writing is not without discussion, since I must mention of how I came to know about them in the first place, Frederick Mask was the one to write these, he persevered them in the basment where "The Dance of Death" was, in this he wrote all into an unfinished diary, that would later be burned and almost destroyed. Lets start at the beginning, Frederick Mask was born into a modestly well off family in the south of Ponyville, he was picked to be a poet for he was bright and inquisitive, always he was buried in books. His parents had high hopes for him, in his diary he writes "They saw in me more than I am, they saw in me a saint, but I am only a sinner. They saw in me a priest, but I am only a scholar."

Frederick found the religious schools he attended suffocating, the focus on rote memorization, the rigid morality, and the dogmatic ways of thinking, all of this conflicted with his individualistic nature. When he turned 18 he dropped out, shocking his parents, his mother died soon after and he never spoke to his father again. He orphaned himself to pursue his intellectual desires, he was already of another world. Frederick took to academia, devouring book, writing constantly, always attending classes, and he eventually graduated. Immediately after his graduation, he quickly set off for the Equestrian Mountains, he was only 20. What had prompted this sudden departure is a complete mystery, how he knew of Alec and his followers are even more difficult, while it had only been 30 years after the forest battle, all of Alecs followers and everything was hidden, completely forgotten by Equestria and tucked away by the royal family. Exactly what he knew about them is not clear, nothing could be found. None of the few friends that he had were aware of this trip, he just simply disappeared.

Exactly what happened to Frederick in the mountains is not known to us at all, His diaries start only after his return back to Ponyville, and he only mentions specific events, never giving a complete narrative of what happened. It seems that at first he was met with a great deal of suspicion, but his dedication won him the grudging respect of the locals, and he was eventually allowed to write much of the sacred traditions, Frederick was allowed to only hastily scribble down everything he heard, writing words quickly and miss spelling, and In hopes of translating later, the process was agonizing. Priests would often times not repeat a certain passage for weeks, and was met with immense obstacles.

It took five years for Frederick Mask to return back to Ponyville, when he arrived he carried with him an enormous and chaotic pile of notes and writings, that would a couple years later be attempted to be published as "The Dark Bleeding" 5 years to record, 2 1/2 years to write and translate. And even with the final verison he was not happy, he writes "The translation is incomplete, and it infuriates me. It is missing that sense of the deepest desperation, I cant explain it! There aren't words, its in their eyes, I need ponies to look into the eyes of a believer and see it there, there! there just aren't the words."

The writings had become in Fredericks mind, the sole reason for his existence. He was slowly becoming a believer in the faith, and he strongly believed that he was alive to preserve it. While in the midst of translation, Frederick searched for publisher and found none, the sample pages he brought with him to nearly every academic publishing house in Ponyville, all of them proclaimed to be too dark, too obscure or too depressing. Nopony wanted to read such a book, and even the most obscure journals of the field were skeptical about it content. Not once did he find anypony that remembered who Alec was or his religion, the royal family had completely hidden everything in a span of only 30 years, and Frederick suspected that they may of even removed everyponys memory.

The resistance to the publishing of his translation confused and infuriated him greatly, he was certain that the books were nothing less then a revelation, in a letter he writes "The feeling of awe, of the religiosity has been lost, there are no more gods left, no more prophets left, only the insects and rotting teeth remain, the cracking bones and atoms and chemicals and minerals, there is no magic left in horns, there is no wonder in us and no souls can be found in any of our decaying bodies" To Frederick, this faith and religion was the antidote to the widespread disbelief, an assault on life itself, on reason and its attempts to organize the absolute, on ignorance and on the materialism.

Every major publisher, and almost every minor one rejected his books and himself, once he was actually beaten up and thrown into the street, but he never abandoned his quest. After months of searching he found a very small house that printed out very small and very obscure manuscripts and booklets on lost groups, raging between 10 to 20 ponies or other species, and even on humans which were almost never bought or sold due to the hatred against the humans. The hatred grew more and more due to the humans becoming more violent because they were being used like prisoners, they were nothing more than a sex toy used for pleasure of both rape and execution. The house would publish ideas even on the occult, and the Stallion who ran it was named "Willam" He was immediately struck by the force of Fredericks personality, and he quickly became apart of the faith, and was the first to be converted in nearly 40 years. In just a few weeks 20 copies of "The Dark Bleeding" and were put on sale, in the span until both of there deaths, 1 year later. Only 2 would ever be sold. 1 week after printing the first 10 copies, they formed the "The Nocturnal Order" which sought to recreate and form "Lecsanism" Was the name they made, for them "A Blank Space" was not pretty, and even shameful to their faith. They referred to themselves as "Dark" because it was necessary for them to hide their faith. In 3 weeks already 20 copies were printed, and they already had 8 loyal followers with one of the books, which was generously sold to their most loyal member, whose name is unknown. They committed themselves to "reshaping the truth" They believed they were chosen to reintroduce this religion back into Equestria through every mean necessary.

They also established a place for Lecsanisms to worship, inside Fredericks basement. There Fredericks followers would practice what rituals they could find from the books he collected and wrote. All that they could cobble together from their incomplete copies of the books, within days all 10 members, including Frederick and Willam were all divine to there faith, and would begin recruiting more and more, in a similar way that Alec had done. The night after the first ritual one of the members, name unknown stabbed his fellow friend from school in a back alley and left his body to be eaten by rats. In the year that followed, Ponyville would be struck with these horrific murders and rapes, in only 1 year, 50 ponies would be brutally murdered by almost anything, a rock, a shovel, a dagger, all types of horrific scenes would be found upon the discovery. William would break his own neck in a derelict house in the outskirts of Ponyville, his body would be found 3 days later by the authories and they found a young filly that was raped multiple times by William, her insides were "Torn up from the horrific acts of rape that were inflicted upon her for several hours at a time" A doctor that was interviewed at the hospital that the filly was taken to. The filly was tied to a broken fireplace, she was starving and barely breathing. She would later die at that same hospital. Just weeks prior William was accused of a rape and murder of two victims in which he lied his way out of. In the moonlight William assaulted a husband and a wife in the middle of the night, killed the husband by means of "Bashing his head into the wall several times" A officer on the scene describes, and the Mare was brutally raped for about 30 minutes in an alleyway, before he took out a dagger and slit her throat wide open. Presumably raping her corpse for another hour.

The most brutal incident and the most notable murder was that of Berryshine, a mare that was stumbling home drunk was an easy target, Willam lured her with alcohol and even without, she would of taken his invite to a "Good Time" he lead her to Fredericks basement in which Berryshine would be the first and last to be killed in ritual that they planned to kill many more. She passed out almost instantly once arriving to the basement, they tied her down and formed a circle around her. Lit one candle, coated the walls in a mixture of ink and blood of prior victims. Waited for her to wake up in which her alcohol would already be faded, and they would all rape, torture, and kill her. When she woke up then quickly sprung and all took turns raping her. William grabbed her mane and ripped a chunk out, forcing himself into her. She was screaming, begging and pleading. They didn't care, in his diary Frederick writes "We were getting hard at her screams, she was screaming, shouting Im sorry we were already annoyed at the bitch, the whore, the slut that filled her mind that night. And like a mouse in a trap she was here. I forced my dick into her mouth, forcing it down her throat. William was thrusting into so hard I felt the vibrations on my cock, we all forced our semen into her throat, her mouth, her ass. One of us held her down while we turned her around, back to the floor. We were finished with the orgy, and she was breathing hard, barely able to, it had been some 4 hours since we began, and there was only leftovers left until we would be finished. I got ontop of her, sliding my cock with such ease into her pussy, it was so torn and it was bleeding. Red beauty, I whisper to them "Begin" all of them start chanting as I thrust into her, myself getting hard in her pussy, her squeaks of pain ever so slightly echo through the basement wall, after a minute I slide out of her and dawn my robe and all the others draw theres. William comes up and forces ash down her throat, her gagging quickly ceases as the life drains from her eyes. With the remaining ash we coat the walls with it. And we leave, Williams leaves with a filly and we never see him again."

The weeks that followed royal guards were everywhere, all of them were soon found and the one notable one Rael is the only name I have, William would be found by Ponyville authorities and royal guards by a self broken neck, Frederick would never be found. And Real would be found in the basement where the murder of Berryshine would be found. The only words that Rael says to the judge at his court due are, and i quote "Each unexpected death, brings us all so much closer, and the more disturbing, the more grotesque, and the more depraved it is, makes it all the better, since were all going to end up that way, anyway." In that same night after he was charged, in jail, he killed himself by forcing his head through the cell bars of his cell, to how he did this is a complete mystery. One week later, Frederick would be dead. In a note he writes just hours before his estimated death "Lecsanism, the story of Alec and his followers does not deserve to vanish entirely from Equestria, no matter what others may think of it, life has rejected me, and I reject life. It is just as it is written. Alec would have been so proud."

On Hearth's Warming Eve, he doused his entire house in kerosene, he walked outside, watched the moon and smoked a cigarette, and when finished, he flicked the smoldering butt onto the basement floor and laid down upon the pile of paper, the faith and the desperation below him. And he waited motionless, for the fire to consume him.

He left a small scrap of paper, a suicide note on his desk, carefully placed square in the middle. "I would be remiss." he wrote on it "If I did not include this months rent. And being remiss is the one thing I cannot tolerate."

PART FIVE

The Extinguishing Consciousness

when will my life fucking end

why did the roof come off today, why did the bloody arrows fall from the sky today

The stars are all burning out today, they are trying to pretend that I give a shit

How many times do I have to say it, why does nothing ever listen

I want to be raped until I am nothing but skull and bone

Our teeth are to often chipped and gnashed

Our clothes are to often torn and ripped

And it will happen as long it possibly can last

arrows

arrows

arrows

arrowheads

~~hurry up and fucking die~~

Carved into the stone, the dirt, the blood and the bone

Knocking the greatest mountains down with such ease

grating

gaping mouth

grab

hooves on your thro a

t

ea t i n g

nothing hurts

every th in g

we wish we were dead

Robert Flint, the boy that was thrown into this world, by the mother who left him to fight for himself, the human that would grow to be so similar to Alec, it was uncanny, and I want to tell his story. But to talk about Robert Flint, I need to talk about Birdtown. I need to start at the beginning.

Birdtown was a small settlement on the coast of Equestria, and it wasn't much of anything. It was little more than a small circling of houses and a single church. It was where the undesirables went, the unwanted. This mostly meant unmarried mares, the elderly ponies, and even some Humans, but none of the ponies there cared about the Humans, just like how the Humans didn't care for them.
Ponies and people went to Birdtown because the land on the rocky landscape didn't produce anything. No one wanted it, and thus no one complained or cared when one more shack went up in that area. All of their homes were old before they were even standing, before they were even built, little more than cramped cellars carved into the rocky soil. Holes in the ground.

Robert Flint came to this village at the age of 25, living a dirty, homeless, horrific and traumatic life. He had developed a mind that therapists would call "A Psychopath" On his travels he most likely killed a few ponies, people, raped them. He was welcome into Birdtown because nobody there cared, they didn't care a murderer was among them. He fucked all the mares in the village at least twice. He had a reputation, as did many of those who lived in White Tail Village, which was known as "The Town of 100 Witches." It's doubtful there was ever 100 people or ponies living there, but Witches? Definitely. One witch, the most "well known" Josie is her name, a mare.

Josie lived with a Human, which was enough to have her hanged even without the knowledge that she was a witch. The townfolk said she performed Fellatio for money. And also traded bodily fluids, mostly blood, urine and her menstrual fluids. The mans name was Neil, and he slaughtered any kind of animal he could find. He came home to Josie every day covered in blood, he washed it off in the small stream that ran down the mountain behind their house. He would sleep in the cellar. He never slept in the same bed with her. They’d both just had enough. Why make more they said, when there’s already too damn many of them. Neither left anything behind of themselves. Neither were the kind to erect monuments of themselves. Not the ones to leave diaries or mementos, they were better than that. They lived their lives, and had the decency to vanish into thin air, to disappear forever.

In the winter of some year. Josie died. Some say that she hanged herself. Flint said that she was raped. "People hate what they create, almost as much as they hate what they are," he said.

That’s true.

They found Neil in the cellar, cowering under an old barrel. And this is one of the reasons everyone there believed that they were never lovers, not even friends, just beings who recognized in each other an infinitely deep yearning within the hollow abyss inside them. If they never slept together, and if they saw each other and only, each other, they could be sure of never needing to explain anything at all. They’d never ask you if slaughtering animals or exchanging sex for money were acceptable. No one would come up to you and ask you straight in your face why everything was always so fucking awful. No one would ever wonder why you were always stuck, frozen in bed, and no one would ask you to straighten the fuck up and get on with it.

And you never would.

Once, Josie wrote down a spell, the only surviving artifact of her. “Perform these deeds,” it said “and you shall know and be met with a great and powerful Spirit"

And it said -

Cut the door along the frame
And disfigure the flesh along its gates
Form a bloodied bath to loosen your tongue and relax your muscles
And sing the beautiful song
The song of pure knowledge
The Death, the Death
A love that is so great
Exhale the red mist

I sometimes wonder about my childhood. Of all the other changelings that were around me, from the other queens of my ancient time, i was raised to be another queen in an endless swarm.

But my childhood, I remember almost none of it. It’s all gone somewhere else, In the dark void where all other childhoods are. It isn’t part of me anymore, though I can still feel it if I feel very, very

Deeply

It is the opposite of a "wishing well" if I send the bucket down, try to remember, it comes up with a reason about why I am the way I am.

Why the things around me are as they are. Why I can’t be happy.

never will

w h y i h a v e t o d i e

I remember only one thing

There was a changeling, a boy, he was larger than me. I was awkward then, I was so uncertain and so ugly, filthy. They threw rocks at me, all of them throwing, but I think that now, that most of them did not quite mean it. They couldn’t commit to it. But he could.

He threw with all his might, everything, he hit my face, Connected with the ancient temple and spilled my blood down into my eyes. A red blur covered my vision, I couldn’t see and I couldn’t feel anything. There is an empty place in me and that is where it comes from, from the emptiness. Something was angry in me, some old, something ancient, desperate. I moved so quickly, my limbs so strong, they’d never been so strong. My legs were like trees, roots so deep into the ground, so deep it was unmoving, yet they were running, flying. My hooves were like everything I’d ever wanted to say, carrying so much weight. All those words were forgotten, all the ugly words, they were stumbled over, plowed over. All those days trampled over, every single one.

I knocked him down into the ground so hard. I couldn’t stop. I got on top of him, the others watched, I felt their fear. I struck him again, and again, and again, and again. Again. I reached down. Grabbed a rock. This is right. I felt it in my hooves I knew every atom of its structure, every angle. I knew what made it so strong, I knew how heavy the rock was, how hard. I knew how it felt to be hit, I knew it. I knew what it was like to be buried so deep. I knew what it was to be made from the dirt, the earth, to be a lifeless stone formed from the soil, so I gave it life. I brought it down. I brought it down. And I raised it up. Like a torch, I lit it with fire. I raised it up high, gripping it hard. Like a sword. I brought it down fast. His eye closed where the light blinked out, shadow. There was no such thing as depression. I brought it down. A tooth spit onto the dirt, bashed in. There was no such thing as sadness. A pool of blood. There was no such thing as acceptance. I raised it up so high. There was no such thing as fear. No more cowering, no more hiding. Not a scepter, if there was, not a clean one. I brought it down. I will not wear a crown, I am not good. I raised it up. There was no such thing as anything.

No such thing

But they wouldn’t let me finish. There were hooves around my throat. Hooves on my shoulders. It was back to the real world, the adult world, A world with rules.

I remember now

The signs and the symbols. There was a colt on a path, there was a filly in a river, drowning. There was a grave etched in a mountain, digging into the soil. And there was a Changeling, shooting at the stars. Bringing them down to the ground. Embedding them into the earth.

Why do we try to be good, if everything inside us in evil.

“What is an afterlife” Flint once asked “what would the thing that would satisfy you?”

I often worried about that

I sat each day in this cluttered attic of woodcuts and scraps of useless information scribbled on papers, perching myself onto the very edge of the deepest hole.

Where did we go?

Was it true what Alec said?

or was it something else

A place where everything, where every single living thing is evil, where everyone understands the deepest workings of our world. For they simply wish it, and it is.

They are like gods there, powerful beings. But hooked, hanged and bent, cracked and crooked, broken and ripped, and thus, evil.

A place where every breathing thing is like that. A place where every living thing is separate, so different and apart, and no one, or anything, nothing ever belonged to anything there.

nothing

3 months after Flint's arrival into Birdtown, he quickly found himself teaching the locals there in a similar to way to what Alec had done, decades ago. He ran small rundown workshops out of his home, Nearly everyone who was in town would be pulled to him, he always talked about the other side of death, for he was so sure of himself, he was so sure he what knife and death was, and were all about. He knew when life lied to us, and when it told the truth. And he promised to only tell the truth, and they believed him. True belief is so rare, Even those who say they do.

Do not really.

At first, "The Black Unlight Society" (named after the ocean that the town was situated near, just a couple miles down the mountain. That when night came, the moon never illuminated the ocean, it stayed a dark, and black, empty void.) It existed mainly to meet and discuss all of Flint's work. They were the full-time seekers, attracted to the next system, the method that promised to make life something more than what it was.

They had questions. They were just like all of us, they were no different, there was no evidence that they were depressed, or lonely individuals slowly deteriorating, they were nothing more than just, normal. Flint introduced the "Device" to the group a year later. Once it became apparent what it was, and what he had been suggesting. The group would lose most of its members, only the truly desperate and dedicated stayed, to see what was next.

They would all sit in a circle and wear the hoods Flint created, they would sit silently, quietly in the deafening silence around them, until one of them had a vision, or a type of seizure, and then it would spread amongst them until they were all sharing visions, the visions of the afterlife, the unknown, known. They would rolling about on the floor, scratching at it and tearing at themselves, even climbing the walls.

I should give a brief summary of it works for, Flint never wrote about it in his letters, only once on a rainy night. The device was described as such by Flint, he writes "The effects are very gradual. slow. The hood would press into the sides of the head, just slight oxygen deprivation over a long period of time. And then suffocate them, easily and painless, inducing a mild asphyxiation, to reveal whats comes after, I have never smiled so wide in my life." 5 years of constant preaching by Flint, the hallucinations. All the indoctrination of Flint was successful, he was awarded to be the "Ruler" of Birdtown. From then on, every method was different to achieving death, it's unclear was his goal was on from them. He ripped and tore his entire diary multiple time, sentences are lost, pages are missing.

Flint is a mystery that stains another part of Equestria, Flint has left his print of Birdtown from then on, nothing was as it was back then, everything was growing a black

mist

and ill be honest

wi th my self

I cant keep writing in this
as I ff I m n

o t talking a b o u t myself. I f ucking know

exact ly what is happeni ng

I do n t w an nt to pretend t h at it isn't happening t

t o m e right n o w

STOP IT

HOW COULD YOU JUST FUCKING SIT THERE, AND WATCH.

Robert Flint and the entire village are apprehend by the Royal Family, 10 years ago they had been receiving unknown radiation signs coming from the foot of the mountain that Birdtown was situated in, all are executed, hanged, the mares and the woman are raped till death, then stuffed with cum. Oozing, beaten, thrown, pushed, all are condemned for acts they don't deserve, there is no happy ending, because there is never a happy ending, no matter what you may think.

Robert Flint is thrown into being experimented upon, his device would be used for torture and suffering for years to come, until the eventual destruction of Equestria, foretold by both Alec and Flint, in the final recording that has been translated into paper, the final words of Robert Flint before he was to be burned at the stake, just like Alec, he speaks directly to Princess Celestia, no pony else.

"There will come a day when the torment, the secrets, the suffering will end, all that you have killed and buried above the ground, all that you have hidden away into the dark will rise up from the shifting lands in glorious appearance. When the subjugated will break free from the bonds of their captors, and a stick will do no harm, a blade will not cut their now hardened skins. When us humans will rise up, far stronger in any way. And the ever growing flood of the dead will no longer produce more by those who huddle around their fires, desperately swatting at the ever growing shadows closing in on them, no matter what they will do, no matter what kind of magic they will conjure up, there is nothing to harm it, nothing to destroy it. And it will unleash itself from that darkness with all its might, and there is nothing you will be able to do about it. On that day, you will be cast aside, you will be tormented, you will be mocked, you will be raped, slaughtered, thrown, beaten, bruised, murdered, and all that will remain is dust and sand.

Do you hear the trumpets blaring, Princess? You will, soon."

PART SIX

Sleeping And Singing Of Damnation

5 days after Flints death, all members of the royal family are kidnapped by a group of Humans and Ponies, Celestia, Luna, Twilight, they are raped, beaten, starved, mocked, and then murdered after 20 days of non-stop torture and rape.

There are ghosts here

A Stallion jumps from a balcony, a Mare behind him and following in his steps. Jumping with her foal, a corpse is left, to be raped, what is left, for it was only dirt.

We are always surrounded by the invisible spirits, they are all around us, at all times. The deceased roam the putrid rock, everything is infirm, everything is bleeding, a very dark grey.

We move through those ghosts every day, no matter where we are, there is always something there, invisible, foaming. Frozen manes wiping around, touching ours, cold feeling, a cold feeling out of nowhere, you passed one. Felt it, that sudden change, they can be on top of us, there can be one on you, right, now. On me, as I write, I scribble this, looming over me.

I've been writing long enough, and yet I don't know where to end.

My mind is rotting as I write this, its disappearing, I feel it

There is no story left to tell, I've already told enough haven't I?

why do some beg for a happy ending, why do they sit in the frost and dark, whispering to themselves.

Why should I reward them that, why should I gift it likes its a birthday, what is the point, why do they care for something they don't find in there taste.

I have told the truth, and I have told enough, I have written this for someone, maybe something. Publish it? how? what is there to publish, would you call this a book? hm? you answer in your head, or stay silent, shocked perhaps.. shaking, shivering from that uneasy feeling, maybe its stronger as I say it, I know you feel it now. It there, touching you, pushing into your chest, your back, your arms, you legs, your neck. Gripping tight and only feel that soft tingle, an itch, you scratch.

Maybe it's time I put down that black ink dot, end this book, and it collect dust because.

Everything ends.

Afterword.

I am writing this in an attic in the middle of nowhere