The Blood Runs Crazy

“Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise.”

“I mean it, Applebloom. I’m going to find a doctor. My family has money. We can stop this...” Diamond Tiara gestured to the swelling and distorting body within Applebloom’s cloak. “It can be fixed.”

“Of course.”

“You’re not convincing me,” the rich girl glared.

“I don’t have to. It was your idea.”

Once her … friend? The word sounded weird. Inappropriate. Whatever, once it was gone, Applebloom walked into the hotel bathroom. As the tub filled with warm water, she smashed the mirror and selected one of the larger pieces of glass.

She shed her robe, revealing what remained of her body. Pale, white ropes, like worms slowly consuming a corpse, stretched down her legs. New muscles for new limbs. Her stomach burned and bubbled from the inside. New organs for new appetites. In the broken mirror, she saw the gaping hole of her right eye socket, dripping blood slowly as something egg-like and strange grew to fill the opening. New eyes for new visions.

With any luck, she was the last of her bloodline. There was only one stroke left to bring the whole wretched business to an end.

There was some regret, as she filled the tub with lavender and vanilla scents. She slid into the tub, feeling the warm chase exhaustion out of her limbs. As her greying torso, now almost entirely hairless, vanished beneath the suds, she started to relax. Diamond Tiara may be an obnoxious fool, but there were benefits to traveling with a pony who practically shat bits.

Some regret, but nothing she’d carry with her.

The minibar had a bottle of champagne but no flutes, so it was through plastic ribbing that Applebloom watched the bubbles traveling to the surface. Desperate to escape their origin.

The radio in the corner sang slow and mournful, “I’m a free mare with no place free to go.”

After the bottle lay empty by the tub, Applebloom figured Diamond Tiara owed her at least the 200 bits worth of room service, the mare gripped the glass in her mouth.