A Mare Laid Alone In A Closet.
Hot.
All the mare felt was hot.
Not the pleasant kind of hot one might experience with a significant other, not one would feel in a sweltering room of a sauna, not even the uncomfortable heat of a heavy blanket compared to this.
No, this was a sickly kind of heat, like from a particularly nasty bug caught during a flu season, or a Cutie Pox that found a particularly sheltered kid-turned-adult. The kind that made your fur feel oily, that made bed sheets cling to the body. One that retreated once you left the comfortable confines of the bed, leaving a bone-chilling cold in its stead.
All the mare felt, was cold.
Not a cool breeze on a particularly sunny midsummer morning, or a brain-freezing but nonetheless welcome sting of a delicious ice cream, not even the contrasting chill of air conditioning after a lengthy workout session.
No, this cold seeped into the core of her very being, numbing her limbs to the point of losing any and all sense of touch. It was a cold one would feel lost in a blizzard of the frozen north during the last moments of their life, the biting cold that soon turned into nauseating heat.
All the mare felt, was nausea.
She stumbled, her bleary eyes failing to discern anything in the darkness of the closet. She knocked something over as she shot a hoof in front of her to halt her descent, a meaty thud followed by the sound of tiny pitter-patters hitting the floor. Bile rose up her esophagus, burning as it poured onto the floor with a sickening gurgle and a shameful splat.
Whatever it was the mare had knocked over rolled away from her leg at contact, the noise quiet, but not imperceivable. Yet in the darkness of the room, it might as well have been thunderous.
All the mare felt, was hurt.
She clasped her front legs over her head, turning to face the closet's exit, her back scraping against the wooden wall as she slid down into the pile of her own shame. But the mare didn't notice, her attention occupied by the skull-shattering whirlpool of images, smells and sounds that raged within her head.
A pathetic whine escaped her lips as she covered her eyes, hoping to protect them from some non existent irritant, crusted flakes of something black slouching off her fur as she rubbed her eyes, more of it staining her hooves. There was a ringing in her ears that refused to go away, a thousand church bells going off from within her skull.
The sound of movement coming from beyond the door made the mare freeze, her ears on a swivel as she listened intently, the thin door of the closet failing to stop the noise from reaching her ears.
"I'll be fine, just try not to die while I'm away. I want to say 'told you so' one last time."
It was a stallion's voice, that much was clear, but the mare felt too weak, too heavy to act on the fact as the hoofsteps came closer.
In a sudden explosion of sight and sound the door flew open bathing the closet in a ray of light, revealing the source of the disturbance.
What stood before the mare, could only be called a pony with a most generous definition. It stood on four legs, wearing a white two piece suit, a blue dress shirt revealing the similarly white coat of fur. That was where the similarities ended, though. The stallion's features were sharp, angular and contorted beyond belief. A look of hatred was plastered on his face, eyes glowing red as mouth opened just enough to reveal a row of sharp fangs.
"Holy shit, never thought something could smell worse than a Boomer." The thing said, waving its front leg before his nose.
The mare reacted in an instant, her mind going into overdrive at the assault to her senses.
He was a monster.
He was sick.
She had to get him, for the good of everypony.
The mare jumped to her hooves in an instant, her mouth stretching into a snarl, teeth clamping shut with enough force to crack one or two loose. An high pitched screech mixed with an animalistic growl as it left her throat, rearing up as she pawed at the air with her hooves, before lunging for the monster.
"BITCH!"
A booming sound all but blew out the mare's eardrums as something collided with the lower part of her belly, sending the mare flying backwards into the wall. The mare blinked rapidly, shaking her head as her eyes focused on the monster, currently backpedaling towards the closet's exit.
The mare staggered back to her hooves, a strangled yelp leaving her as something a dark shade of red mixed with necrotic black, wet and rubbery in its consistency slipped out of her, hitting the floor with a wet pop, the mare suddenly feeling lighter than usual. She continued on in a mad dash, undeterred by the wetness that stained her back legs, screeching and growling in her attempts to tackle the monster.
It was inches away from her when it snatched something from beside the door, before slamming it shut in the mare's face, staggering back out of the closet. The mare hit the wooden door head-on, the collision staggering her momentarily, a wet trickle running down her forehead as she began pounding on the door, further agitated by more noises on the other side.
"Fuckin' asshat sonova'..." The noise grumbled, out of breath, before taking a deep breath and getting up, undaunted by the continued assault of hooves on the other side. The words got quieter as the voice turned more distant, but the beginnings of conversation managed to reach the mare's ears.
"Hey, assclowns!It's your lucky day,I've got antibiotics...
Hooves collided with the door, and though their ferocity lingered, each hit was weaker than the last. Growls and snarls poured out of the mare's cold lips, followed by a sudden yelp as her hind legs crumpled under her from the strain.
A pitiful snarl died on her lips as she finally pushed one hoof through the wooden door, falling limp to the cold floor. Her eyes grew heavy, the world around her spinning and blurring before fading into black.
And finally, all the mare felt, was nothing.
