Tales of Pony Insanity

Tales of Pony Insanity

The Mare Before Me

~Axôlú

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Before me sat a mare. Her coat, a sickly yellow, complimented the crimson locks of her head and plot. Her amber eyes gazed into my own, with the same curiosity as I held for this pony. A short horn stood within the split of her ragged mane. Upon her flanks were emblazoned matching gold-like rectangular frames.

I spoke to this mare, in a manner that would not frighten her. She opened and closed her mouth, moving her tongue in a strange yet dexterous way. To my surprise, her lips produced no sound; not a single syllable was uttered by her movements. But even more confounding, her throat contorted exactly as mine did--visibly vibrating--yet with no sound. I spoke again, this time louder, still receiving the same response of soundless vocalization. I grew annoyed by her actions, angry even, and in my madness shouted at the mare. The mare’s demeanor instantly changed. She reacted violently, her eyebrows lowering as she opened her mouth to silently scream at me. Startled by her aggressiveness, I backed away. The mare slid away in fear, her ears flattening.

The mare stared at me again, a look that I cautiously returned. I felt pity for her; regret that I scared her back into shyness. I wished to comfort the mare and in my compassioned state I reached a forelimb out to her. I stretched to touch her shoulder, to feel her smooth coat against my hoof. She too extended her leg, and we met halfway. My hoof hit a cold barrier, refusing to yield to either of our advances. I realized; that this wall was a magical force field, created by the mare’s horn to halt any movements towards her.

I was confused as to why the mare would want such protection. Any force field I had encountered before only served as defense when no other options remained. The mare could run, she could hide, she could speak, but she did nothing of the sort, blankly resting within an ethereal fortress of her own creation. I knew no such spell, nor did I have the means to breach the barrier.

A dawning realization hit me. The mare’s familiar features were not just her own. I sat, staring at a perfect replication of my body. Horror stretched across my features as I realized yet again, that no mare could be me apart from myself. The formerly beautiful mare was nothing but a foul beast. An abomination created only to impersonate and steal scraps of love. The mare who sat before me was a changeling.

The mare must have recognized my expression, for she too backed away in terror. I kept my gaze on her, both of us glaring at one another as we exited the room. I would have run, but duty bound me. The changelings had invaded the sisters of the heavens’ own home, Canterlot, to satiate their eternal hunger. I felt hate for her. The thought that I had fed her with my sympathy disgusted me. She had already invaded my home, leaving me with but one option. Calling for help wouldn’t help, lest the demon take control of me and turn my aid away to feed more upon my emotions. I would give her no love. I would supply her with only my aggression, only my hatred. We would have to fight.

I opened a drawer and levitated a reflective steel knife, its wooden hilt engraved with an image of a rose; a fitting tool to fight the changeling. The blade rose to my face. Staring into the knife, I saw the mare. Indeed, this weapon would protect me from her, if not frighten her away. My lips muttered a blessing to Celestia and Luna, to protect me from the changeling. I stepped back towards the room, prepared to battle the mare.

We trotted into the room. I levitated the knife, and to my irritation, the changeling lifted one of her own. I had the blessing of goddesses. She had the blessing of a mere queen among a hive. Her enraged expression matched my own as I charged her. She did not flee, and so she would face my blade. I struck out at her, a movement which she parried with a skillset not unlike my own. I struck again. The mare countered. I hacked away with blinding fury, such that I did not see what truly impeded my assault. My hooves retreated, exhausted, and I saw the magical barrier, cracked. She had no skill; she was simply matching my movements as her innate magic shielded her! Reinvigorated by this revelation, I charged again. I sliced at the barrier, cracking the supposedly impenetrable force field. The barrier shattered. I watched the dazzling display fall to the floor, a victorious smirk on my face.

The changeling disappeared. My onslaught was worthless. I held the knife in my yellowed aura, watching the shadows. I waited for movement. I waited for seconds, minutes, an hour, but no mare revealed herself. No, my attack was successful. I had protected myself, my home. I had done my duty to the Princesses of Equestria, ending the invasion of my home, and maybe even saving others from the mare’s threat.

I suddenly grew remorseful, coming to an understanding more harrowing than the others. My knife, a tool made for the simple act of preparing food was transformed into an instrument of harm. I transformed that knife. Not only had I made a weapon from cutlery, but I had wished harm upon the  changeling. As malicious as the mare was, no such being deserved pain at the hooves of another. Before, to think I would take righteous joy in injuring anypony, anyone, was inconceivable, yet here I had attempted that very act.

I sunk to the floor, tears spilling from my muzzle onto the floor. I lay among the shards of my broken innocence, destroyed when the changeling fled from my ill-conceived assault. I lay among the shards of broken glass.