A Deed Most Foul

by Pepsi Addict

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Violence, Dark, Death, Thriller, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery
Length: 1912

child murder

on a cold day in hell a diamond dog finds out a dark secret about her employers, the moon royal family, and leaders of the underground and is forced into action knowing her own persecution is a certain fact and that she will be committing treason of the highest regard she steps from her home in the city of moonlight with plans to kill the queens first born at only scarce weeks of age.

CONTENT WARNING - rape & murder

Published 2022-11-10 23:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-11-10 23:50:01 UTC

chapter 1

Knowledge: It is a gift for those without, and a burden for those who behold it. I hold that knowledge. This is the beginning of the letter I write to those that would be curious enough to seek out such knowledge that I've glimpsed upon; a horrible wretched truth that I stumbled into.

I'd been coming home from the Bazaar under the moonlight of our projected sky, a gift from those whom I was soon to betray, for the reason which I saw on mine walk. I barely glimpsed it, as curiosity beckoned me forth. A black shape of a pony, slick and shining in the moonlight, was eating something. Approaching further, the creature was bent over.

To begin with, I’d thought mine imagination tricked me, as creeping around the corner, they appeared to be two ponies making love in the alley under moonlight, something that made me blush with embarrassment and kick mineself for mine foolish fear, but filled me with such a feeling of rudeness as I had done similar things in mine youth. Then I glanced back, prepared to turn and leave and hope to have not interrupted them, but the stallion of the engagement was resting on the ground and the wall.

While yes, he was erect and being ridden, his eyes were filled with horror and fear, his body was weak and frail. I could see the light fading from his eyes as he saw me, and his eyes told me enough of his desire for me to run, to seek help, though that may have been mine conscious through him, now that I think back. His hooves tried to push and force back the mare overpowering him, draining him from the looks of it. I hoped, I prayed to Luna of old times, and Ambrosa of new for them to force them off, to win.

That is not what happened. His body fell limp before mine eyes and I left mine vantage point in the alley, letting off a heavy breath I'd held.

I was frozen in place for minutes, hearing wet, disgusting sounds of some description as I stood there, unable to force mine paws to move. Soon I heard trotting, and mine body was forced into action, slinking away into shadows.

Out from the alley walked our fair queen of moonlight, Queen Opala Moonglow. I'd been stunned and shocked, and tried to make excuses as to her reason for being back there. There had been doors that opened into that alley; perhaps she had been a visiting guest of someone, but they would have heard these wretched sounds. Oh, those horrid sounds. I still hear them now, and haven't been able to shake them from mine mind.

I’d pulled mineself to look back into the alleyway, but the stallion was gone, his body mere flesh and bones. The black bald figure was nowhere to be seen, only a green sticky substance binding the stallion’s limbs to the wall and floor, and coating him in general, eating at him like acid as steam rose from his body. The smell was horrid and wretched.

A thought, no, a realization had crossed mine mind as I covered mine nose there; everyone in the buildings around me had to smell it. It was a melting body. Burning hair makes a very distinct smell and flesh even more so, but even beyond that, everyone should have heard those sounds.

I peeked into a building. Normally I wouldn't be so brash as to pervert someone’s privacy as such, but peering in, the inhabitants had been stuck to walls, melting. Some had been reduced to skeletons and some were in glowing cocoons of this horrid slime.

One of those things looked at me through the window, and with all the grace of a bird whose wings had been clipped, I ran, tripping and stumbling, to try and flee. I grabbed a stray pipe for any sort of weapon should I be followed.

The door to the alley opened. My paw brought up the pipe and stabbed straight into the eye of the wretched creature, its jaws dripping green slime and blood gushing green from the eye as I sprinted into the night.

Mine home was dark that evening as I re-ran the events through mine mind, again and again. I cried some, too. Everything I knew came into question as I looked through what books I had for any reference of these... parasites. I found nothing but blank pages as to the information of these monsters, but a horrid thought crossed mine mind.

The newborn.

It'd been one week since the celebration of the queen's new child being revealed to the public. That fact filled me with dread at first, as these beasts that seemed to change form at will would continue their lineage through our rulership. It took much deliberation, but I left mine house, a knife tucked into mine robes that I might keep it concealed.

I approached the capital palace, shining and glistening under our artificial moonlight. Each piece was made from gemstone, so they say. I’d heard tell that, should a dragon horde grow as large as the palace, the beast would be able to dwarf mountains.

The guards didn't but bat an eye at mine arrival; a simple excuse of coming in to start work early to make sure the morning shift was ready was enough to sate any curiosities they may have had. I couldn't trust but one person as far as I was concerned, and that was mineself. Wandering the halls, I’d pulled mine maid uniform from its resting closet, and with it, the keys to the many doors of the decadent royal home.

I had questioned mineself on the way towards the northmost hall to the wee babe’s room. Perhaps it was only the queen replaced, not her daughter, yet. That thought filled mine heart with an empty hole; a hole carved from guilt. I’d brought a kitchen knife, slightly dull from overuse, fixing food for the very babe. The very knife that had fed the wee thing, I would now use to snuff it from life.

This longest of nights, drawing on ever further, pulled at the threads of mine sanity in mine weakened mental state and made tears well in mine eyes. I collapsed to the floor for minutes at that. Weeping whines cascaded through the gem halls, shining off the somber blue sapphires and flaming rubies. Even the deep royal emeralds and lustful amethyst shimmered with mine tears and cries.

As mine ragged breaths were forced to cease, a sound gracing mine ears through the guilt that boiled the soul, the flap of bat wings and trotting of hooves. I grasped for mine knife, wishing for it to be re-hidden and concealed within mine robes but as I grasped it, the cold obsidian doors blew open and three guard bat ponies charged in.

With mine back turned to them, I grit mine teeth, stifling mine whines and crying into mine arm as I slashed mine palm from the corner of mine wrist, up between mine two index digits, digging into one and letting the knife ease to the floor.

They'd asked me what had happened and what was wrong. I told such lies and deceits to them, but it was necessary. I explained the discovery of the knife, misplaced in one of the rooms and the slip of it as I carried it in the same paw as mine keys; that in mine tired, restless state, I simply injured mineself.

The bags under mine eyes, though proof of mine grief and guilt and tears, could be seen as proof of mine claim and were. They had recommended that I return home, but I explained I was off to bandage mine wound first. This thankfully pulled me from them, but they took the knife, leaving me mine bare hands as I reached the door.

I didn't open, nor did I dare let mineself create any further sound as I laid mine head to the door. I bled over it and dropped to mine knees, giving silent tears. I gave silent wails and gasps, silent screams and silent agony bleeding from mine open wound before once upon a piercing tick of the screaming, deafening clock.

Mine paw briefly rested on the door handle, staining it red as I shuddered and brought mine other paw up. It was shaking. It was violently shuddering as I brought the jingling keys forth. At first, I couldn't put them in the lock. I couldn't put them in until I grabbed the keys in mine bloodied, wounded paw, and then it was like any other lock on any other day.

The door opened. The babe was resting in her shadowed crib as artificial moonlight shone from the windows. The room was caked in dust, save for the area around the young one. I was not meant to be here. I was never meant to enter this room; to lay mine sight upon this place.

As I step closer, the only sounds are the TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICKING of the blasted clock and the cold dripping of mine blood over the floor cutting the silence, a splash hitting the gemstone.

I came closer, beginning to transition to carpet, to stain it with mine red flowing life. There was already blood on one of mine paws as I dropped mine keys to the carpet stained in blood as I looked out the window, breathing heavy and hard, panting and crying and keeping mine eyes clenched shut and tight. I was doing everything in mine power to not look at the baby as I approached the window, pressing mine bloody paw to the glass and resting mine face against it, blood running down mine arm and soaking into mine dress. When mine eyes opened, mine vision had blurred, and though I’d come to learn I was bleeding out by the time I was found, I did not know this yet.

I finally turned to the child, plunging mine hands into the crib, gripping tight in the direction of the foal’s head, trying, fighting to not look at them as their cries began. I gripped tightly mine bloodied hand, crushing their windpipe and cutting off the sounds from them as I shook and slammed and choked and I…

I looked at the child, paler than snow. That was all I could describe of this being. Its eyes cried white tears of sorrow and desperation as its blood gushed white.

My vision blurred and tears streamed from mine face as I lifted them up. They were still alive; still kicking, still writhing. I screamed and yelled and begged for them to stop; to just give in and stop; for them to die as slam after slam, I hit them against the window.

The door slammed open as the window shattered, each of us cascading out upon the rooftop upon which I stayed and from which the gasping babe rolled away and fell almost ten stories down.

They told me it was a puddle, a paste… it, even writing here mine confession of what I did, mine excuses and stories while awaiting the execution I know is coming, I have unconsciously begun to refer to the foal I killed as “it”.

I don't deserve to live.

Author's Note

this is a look into my next big project