The Survivorby RainbowDeadpoolChaptersJanuary 26thJanuary 29thFebruary 1stFebruary 2nd/3rdFebruary 4thFebruary 5thFebruary 7thFebruary 8thFebuary 9/12(?)thFebruary 14thFeb...?Febry Febby Sary?Febba...fer...January 27thJanuary 28thFebrruary 13th Feblary 15/17?Fe40?January 26thWell, this is just great. Two days since the storm washed me up. I paced the island off just this morning. Some island! It is 190 paces wide at its thickest point, and 267 paces long from tip to tip. I was traveling in my hot air balloon when such a terrible and unpredictable storm had me falling into the salty waves below! Ow, my horn aches. It's not snapped off, but I definitely can't use it. This is just terrible. HOW am I to get off this, well I am not even sure if it can be called an ISLAND more of a patch of land it is. But look at me, wasting ink and pages, rambling on and on. Wow, it is difficult writing with no magic. Even IF I am found, this journal is practically illegible! Okay, enough of this rant. Back to how I will survive. Well, so far as I can tell, there is nothing on this island to eat, at least for a pony. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I live in Ponyville with my dear baby dragon Spike. Oh no! I bet my friends are missing me! And most of all, the dear Princess. Oh, my work will be tardy! Alright, stay on topic. No way to erase any of this with ink and feather! If (Or WHEN) I'm never found, at least everypony can see this journal. The good news is I am not alone. During the storm, I guess more ships crashed here. Problem is, those ships have NO SURVIVORS! All they have are some carpenting supplies, plenty of matches, and, well, and heroin. The actual ships are out in the water, their supplies washed up here. I'll search the wreckage when the tide is low. Nothing to do here until then except write. Good thing I'm good at that. Well, nothing to write about though. I'm used to writing what the Princess orders. But this isn't Equestria. There is no Princess. I guess I should just write about myself! I was born in Canterlot to two unicorns, like most ponies. I guess they were loving enough. And I had my BBBFF (That's "Best Big Brother Friend Forever") Shining Armor to take care of me. I didn't connect well with all the other fillies. They all would laugh at me and all, but I always knew I was destined for greatness. All the tormenting was just because I was "different". While all the other fillies loved their little foal toys, I was hidden behind a pile of books. Now, I suppose that's what you call a "Shut In". I had the greatest foalsitter in all the history of foalsitters! Her name was Princess Cadance and she is now married to Shining Armor! Funny how things work like that. So yeah, throughout all of Magic School, the harassing and name calling didn't REALLY bother me. Shining and Cadence were always there for me, and more than I could ask for. Besides, I'd be damned if I wasn't the best out of all my classes. I bet they were all just jealous! When I first got my Cutie Mark, Princess Celestia herself was stunned by my (what she called) "limitless potential". That's how I am a student of hers so early in my life, and a very studious one too! Why am I writing this? It's almost funny. No, I take that back. It is funny. The great Twilight Sparkle sitting on a sandy rock, torn up and bleeding, already hungry. On an island almost big enough to spit across, telling my life story. Am I hungry! Never mind, I'I1 write my damn life story if I want to. At least it keeps my mind off my stomach. Sort of. Oh no! OH NO! Did I just make a 1 and not a l?! Oh, no luck fixing it now. Oh stupid stupid stupid Twilight! What have you done?! Oh dear. I need to get a hold of things. No use punching myself like that. I just wanted to be the best. I LOVE knowledge and want to BASK in it. Some of the foals used to rag me about it, call me "Chickenshit". I never fought them. That'd be stooping to their level. he thing to learn is how to survive, you know what I mean? I'm smart enough to know how to survive. That's how I KNOW I will survive now, as I did growing up. But now, I guess the meaning is literal. Funny how things work. Funny. Ha ha. Can't write any more now. My hooves's tired. I don't know why I'm bothering, anyway. Somepony'll probably pick me up soon. Right? January 29thNo chow today. One gull landed near the top of the rockpile but flew off before I could get close enough to "throw it a forward pass," ha-ha! That's what i think is speak they use in a sport. Forgot the name. Pigskin or something. I'm not keen on sports. Theyre for filthy animals. Well, I am a filthy animal now. Look at me. My eyes hurt. Itches like hell. If the gull comes back and I get it, I'm going to cut its eyes out before I kill it. Hungry again. Still no gulls today. Reminds me of the signs you'd sometimes see on the pushcarts back in the neighborhood, so TOMATOES TODAY. I walked out into the water up to my neck with the sharp knife in my mouth. Having no magic is harder than I anticipated. Can't even swing this. Granted, I never had to use a knife before.. I stood completely still in that one place with the sun beating down on me for four hours. Twice I thought I was going to faint, but I counted backward until it passed. It works. mostly. I didn't see one fish. Not one. Ravenous. Hunger is eating my stomach. I need to feed. February 1stKilled another gull, the same way I did the first. I was too hungry to torture it the way I had been promising myself. Or maybe my mind is saying that is wrong. Dear Celestia!! Please save me! Who am I kidding. No help now. I need to survive. I gutted and ate it. Squeezed the tripes and then ate them, too. It's strange how you can feel your vitality surge back I was beginning to get scared there, for a while. Lying in the shade of the big central rockpile, i'd think i was hearing voices. Shining. Rainbow Dash. Spike. My old friends. I cried. I miss them so much too much I miss. There was a group of Pegasi. It flew right across the island. I tried to climb to the top of the rockpile and wave to it. My back hoof went into a hole. The same damn hole I got it stuck in the day I killed the first bird, I think. I've fractured it, compound fracture. It went like a gunshot. The pain was unbelievable wait, it still is! I screamed and lost my balance, pinwheeling my front limbs like a madmare, but I went down and hit my head and everything went black. I didn't wake up until dusk. I lost some blood where I hit my head. My hoof had swelled up like a tire, and I'd got myself a very nasty sunburn. Sunburns are bad because of the radiation on your body caused by the Sun. Celestia is sweet andknd but the Sun is still a huge fireball.I think if there had been another hour of sun, it would have blistered. Dragged myself back here and spent last night shivering and crying with frustration. Crying for my friends too. I disinfected the head wound, which is just above the right temporal lobe, and bandaged it as well as I could. Just a superficial scalp wound plus minor concussion, I think, plus my horn still aches. That's swelled up too. It's going to fall off any time now. but my leg ... it's a bad break, involved in two places, possibly three. I walk with a limp. Oh it hurts so bad. How will I chase the birds now? I bet those Pegasi were looking for me. I wonder if Rainbow was in it. Now they'll never notice poor litle me on this small isle. Sweet Celestia my leg hurts so bad. February 2nd/3rdI made a sign on the small white shingle of a beach on the island's south side. It took me all day, with pauses to rest in the shade. Even so, I fainted twice. At a guess, I'd say I've lost 25 lbs, mostly from dehydration. And hunger. But now, from where I sit, I can see the four letters it took me all day to spell out; dark rocks against the white sand, they say HELP in characters four feet high. More flying ponies will definitely not miss me! If there are any. My horn and leg throbs constantly. There is swelling still and ominous discoloration around the double break on my leg. Discoloration seems to have advanced. Binding it tightly with some cloth from the balloon alleviates the worst of the pain, but it's still bad enough so that I faint rather than sleep. Good thing I know how to treat wounds. Celestia taught me. It isn't enough. No, nothing is EVER enough. I have begun to think I may have to amputate. That didn't take up as much space as I thought. I feel myself getting weak. Save this for later. I need rest befor... Tomorrow now is. Swelling and discoloration worse still. I'll wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow tomorrow. If the operation does become necessary, I believe I can carry it through. I'm smart enough. I have matches for sterilizing the sharp knife, I have needle and thread from the sewing kit. More cloth for a bandage. I even have two kilos of "painkiller," although hardly of the type yu prescribe. But they would have taken it if they could have gotten it. You bet. Those old blue-haired ladies would have snorted air freshener if they thought it would have gotten them high. Believe it! I know im not that type of pony, but as i said before, sedatives. February 4thI've decided to amputate my leg. For sure now! No food four days now. If I wait any longer, I run the risk of fainting from combined shock and hunger in the middle of the operation and bleeding to death. And as wretched as I am, I still want to live. Survival of the fittest. I'm not athletic, but I sure am mentally and morally fit. As a nurse once said (jokingly but still serious) treating a little scab I had when I was small, Sooner or later the question comes up in every medical student's career: How much shock-trauma can the patient stand'? And she'd whack her pointer at his chart of the human body, hitting the liver, the kidneys, the heart, the spleen, the intestines Cut to its base level she'd say. the answer is always another question: How badly does the patient want to survive? And I want to survive. I need to survive. I think I can bring it off. I really do. I suppose I'm writing to put off the inevitable, but it did occur to me that I haven't finished the story of how I came to be here. Perhaps I should tie up that loose end in case the operation does go badly. It will only take a few minutes, and I'm sure there will be enough daylight left for the operation. Ha! I keep bringer her up, but Princess Celestia told me of a far away land, a land that we Equestrians lost touch of so many generations back. I was supposed to meet up with others in an area around it. I don't even remember their names. You know i am glad and sad none of my friends ame. I dont want them suffering now. Hah haah i wonder if wed go and eat each other BAD TWILIGHT! Dont think of nasty stuff like that. Well it doesn't matter now. A freak hurricane had me wipe out here. Well here I am. Happy now you bastard hurricane? Ha ha. But I know what I have to do. This may be the last entry, but somehow I think I'll make it. Haven't I always'? And they are really doing marvelous things with prosthetics these days. I can get along with one hoof quite nicely. It's time to see if I'm as good as I think I am. Luck. February 5thDid it. The pain was the part I was most worded about. I can't stand pain, and I thought that in my weakened condition, a combination of hunger and agony might force unconsciousness before I could finish. But the heroin solved that quite nicely. I had to. I HAD to. I opened one of the bags and sniffed two healthy pinches from the surface of a flat rock, first the right nostril, then the left. it was like sniffing up some beautifully numbing ice that spread through the brain from the bottom up. I aspirated the heroin as soon as I finished writing in this diary yesterday, the shadows had moved, leaving me partially in the sun, and I must estimate was at least 3 hours past. I had nodded off. I had never dreamed that it could be so beautiful, and I can't understand why I was so scornful before. The pain, the terror, the misery . . . they all disappear, leaving only a calm euphoria. It was in this state that I operated. Of course there was a great deal of pain, most of it in the early part of the operation. But the pain seemed disconnected from me, like somepony else's pain. It bothered me, but it was also quite interesting. Can you understand that? Of course not. I'm a sick desperate shell of my former self. It does more than dull pain. It induces a state of mind. A serenity. I can understand whv people get hooked on it, although "hooked" seems an awfully strong word, used most commonly, of course, by those who have never tried it. About halfway through, the pain started to become a more personal thing. Waves of faintness washed over me. I looked longingly at the open bag of white powder, but forced myself to look away. If I went on the nod again, I'd bleed to death as surely as if I'd fainted. I counted backward from a hundred instead. It wrks. Loss of blood was the most critical factor. Being the studious mare I am (was?), I was vitally aware of that. Not a drop could be spilled unnecessarily. If a patient hemorrhages during an operation in a hospital, you can give him blood. I had no such supplies. What was lost--and by the time I had finished, the sand beneath my leg was dark with it--was lost until my own internal factory could resupply. I had no clamps, no hemostats, no surgical thread. I had nothing but my idea of surgery and pain. The operation lasted maybe one hour. I've lost track of most time now. Not even sure if these dates are accurate. Once I finished immediately dosed myself with heroin, a bigger dose than before. I nodded into a gray, painless world and remained there for I guess 4 more hours. When I came out of it, the sun was nearing the western horizon, beating a track of gold across the blue endless ocean toward me. I've never seen anything so beautiful . . . all the pain was paid for in that one instant. So terrible but so serene. An hour later I snorted a bit more, so as to fully enjoy and appreciate the sunset. I knew I would never feel this way again. Shortly after dark I-- Wait. Haven't I told you I'd had nothing to eat for four days or whatever? And that the only help I could look to in the matter of replenishing my sapped vitality was my own body? Above all, haven't i told you, over and over, that survival is a business of the mind? The superior mind? I AM THE SUPERIOR MIND i won't justify myself by saying you would have done the same thing. First of all, you're probably not a scholar. Even if you knew the mechanics of amputation, you might have botched the job so badly you would have bled to death anyway. And even if you had lived through the operation and the shock-trauma, the thought might never have entered your preconditioned head. Never mind. No one has to know. My last act before leaving the island will be to destroy this book. I was very careful. I washed my hoof very thouroughly before I ate it. Dear Celestia what have i come to? February 7thPain from the stump has been bad excruciating from time to time. But I think the deep-seated itch as the healing process begins has been worse. I've been thinking this afternoon of the horrible, unscratchable itch of mending flesh. If anypony came to me before complaining of this, I would smile and tell them they would feel better tomorrow, privately thinking what whiners they were, what jellyfish, what ungrateful babies. Now I understand. Several times I've come close to ripping the shirt bandage off the stump and scratching at it, digging my hooves into the soft raw flesh, pulling out the rough stitches, letting the blood gout onto the sand, anything, anything, to be rid of that maddening horrible itch. At those times I count backward from one hundred. doesn't really work so well. And snort heroin. I have no idea how much I've taken into my system, but I do know I've been "stoned" (Is that what they call it?) almost continually since the operation. It depresses hunger, you know. Well, I know now. I'm hardly aware of being hungry at all. There is a faint, faraway gnawing in my belly, and that's all. It could easily be ignored. I can't do that, though. Heroin has no measurable caloric value. I've been testing myself, crawling from place to place, measuring my energy. It's ebbing. Dear sweet Celestia, I hope not, but ... another operation may be necessary. More ponies flew over the island. Too high to do me any good. I laughed and waved. Waved? What the fuck Twilight? Now here you are, crippled, hungry, savage, survivor. Im still alive right? Doesn't matter. Getting too dark to see now. Food. I've been thinking about all kinds of food. Some Ponyville lasagna. Garlic bread. Gourmet salads. sndwics. Peach melba. London broil. The huge slice of pound cake and the scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream they give you for dessert in Sugarcube corner. Hot pretzels baked potatos baked Alaska baked pineapple tings. Onion. Onion dip with potato chips cold iced tea in long long sips french fries make you smack your lips. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 89, 63, 74, 21, 40. Tag! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK! February 8thAnother gull landed on the rockpile this morning. A huge fat one. I was sitting in the shade of my rock, what I think of as my camp, my bandaged stump propped up. I began to salivate as soon as the gull landed. Just like one of Pavlov's dogs. Does it ring?Drooling helplessly, like a filly. Filly willy. Nilly billy. I picked up a chunk of stone large enough to fit my hand nicely and began to crawl toward it. We' re down by three. Third and long yardage. . I didn't have much hope. I was sure it would fly off. But I had to try. If I could get it, a bird as plump and insolent as that one, I could postpone a second operation indefinitely. I crawled toward it, my stump hitting a rock from time to time and sending stars of pain through my whole body, and waited for it to fly off. It didn't. It just strutted back and forth, its meaty breast thrown out like some avian general reviewing troops. Every now and then it would look at me with its small, nasty black eyes and I would freeze like a stone and count backward from one hundred until it began to pace back and forth again. Every time it fluttered its wings, my stomach filled up with ice. I continued to drool. I couldn't help it. I was drooling tike a filly. I don't know how long I stalked it. An hour? Two? And the closer I got, the harder my heart pounded and the tastier that gull looked. It almost seemed to be teasing me, and I began to believe that as soon as I got in throwing range it would fly off. My limbs were beginning to tremble. My mouth was dry. The stump was twanging viciously. 1 think now that I must have been having withdrawal pains. But so soon? I've been using the stuff less than a week! Never mind. I need it. There's plenty left, plenty. If I have to take the cure later on when I get back to Ponyville (if?), I'll check into the best clinic in Ponyville and do it with a smile. That's not the problem right now, is it? When I did get in range, I didn't want to throw the rock. I became insanely sure that I would miss, probably by feet. I had to get closer. So I continued to crawl up the rockpile, my head thrown back, the sweat pouring off my wasted, scarecrow body. My teeth have begun to rot, did I tell you that? If I were a superstitious mare, I'd say it was because I ate-- HA! We know better, don't we? We're smart. I stopped again. I was much closer to it than I had been to either of the other gulls. I still couldn't bring myself to commit. I clutched the rock until I ached and still I couldn't throw it. Because I knew exactly what it would mean if I missed. I think I would have crawled right up to it without throwing if it hadn't finally taken wing. I would have crept up and strangled it. But it spread its wings and took off. I screamed at it and reared up on my knees and threw my rock with all my strength. And I hit it! A mare like me! bullseye. The bird gave a strangled squawk and fell back on the other side of the rockpile. Gibbering and laughing, unmindful now of striking the stump or opening the wound, I crawled over the top and to the other side. I lost my balance and banged my head. I didn't even notice it, not then, although it has raised a pretty nasty lump. All I could think of was the bird and how I had hit it, fantastic luck, even on the wing I had hit it! It was flopping down toward the beach on the other side, one wing broken, its underbody red with blood. I crawled as fast as I could, but it crawled faster yet. Race of the cripples! Ha! Ha! I might have gotten it I was closing the distance except for my hooves. I have to take good care of my hooves. I can't use magic anymore. In spite of my care, they were scraped by the time we reached the narrow shingle of beach. The gull flopped into the water, squawking noisomely, and I clutched at it. i got a bundle of tailfeathers, which came off in rny grasp. Then I fell in, inhaling water, snorting and choking. I crawled in further. I even tried to swim after it. The bandage came off my stump. I began to go under. I just managed to get back to the beach, shaking with exhaustion, racked with pain, weeping and screaming, cursing the gull. It floated there for a long time, always further and further out. I seem to remember begging it to come back at one point. But when it went out over the reef, I think it was dead. It isn't fair. Why why is this t took me almost an hour to crawl back around to my camp. I've snorted a large amount of heroin, but even so I'm bitterly angry at the gull. If I wasn't going to get it, why did it have to tease me so'? Why didn't it just fly off? Febuary 9/12(?)thI amputated my other back hoof. Strange. All through the operation I was drooling. Drooooling. Just like when I saw the gull. Drooling helplessly. But I made myself wait until after dark. I just counted backward from one hundred . . . twenty or thirty times! Ha! Ha! WORKS! And then what happens to the hoof? I kept telling myself just a sandwich just a sandwich just a sandwich just a sandwich New day. Rain the last one or two days. I don't even know my DATES well anymore. And high winds. I managed to move some rocks from the central pile, enough to make a hole I could crawl into. Found one small spider. Pinched it with my hoof before he could get away and ate him up. Very nice. Juicy. Thought to myself that the rocks over me might fall and bury me alive. Didn't care. Spent the whole storm stoned. Maybe it rained three days instead of two. Or only one. But I think it got dark twice. I love to nod off. No pain or itching then. I know I'm going to survive this. It can't be a person can go through something like this for nothing. There was a priest at a small church when I was a filly, a little runty stallion, and he used to love to talk about Tartarus and mortal sins. He had a real hobbyhorse on them. You can't get back from a mortal sin, that was his view. I dreamed about him last night, Father Hailly in his black bathrobe, and his whiskey nose, shaking his hoof at me and saying, "Shame on you,little mare . . . a mortal sin . . . damt to hell, boy . . .damt to hell . . . I found out later he was institutionalized. Didnt know what that was back then. I see why now. Now, I laughat him. If this place isn't Tartarus, what is'? And the only mortal sin is giving up. Survival is a birth right. Half of the time I'm delirious; the rest of the time my stumps itch and the dampness makes them ache horribly. But I won't give up. I swear. Not for nothing. Not all this for nothing. February 14thFound a crab. Killed it and roasted it over a small fire. Tonight I could almost believe in a higher being again. I just noticed this morning that the storm washed away most of the rocks in my HELP sign. But the storm ended... three days ago? Have I really been that stoned? I'll have to watch it, cut down the dosage. What if a ship went by while I was nodding? I made the letters again, but it took me most of the day and now I'm exhausted. Looked for a crab where I found the other, but nothing. Cut my hooves on several of the rocks I used for the sign, but disinfected them promptly with iodine in spite of my weariness. Have to take care of the only hooves I have left. No matter what. Feb...?Took the other back leg off. Right at the knee. Sleepy all day. "Doctor was this operation necessay?" Haha. Shaky hooves, like an old man. Hate them. Blood under the horseshoes. Scabs. Rusting. Been rusting how lng? Only I don't want to look. No way no how. I remember i was i had a scaly sort of thing. he was a baby. he was nice. Wonder his taste. And I know my friends. Pony meat. Free food, just on display! Ha! Funny! NO! I'm fine. I come back back to i tink treehouse. I get prosthetics, I could be as good as new. I could come back here and tell ponies "This. Is where it. Happened.". Ill be more pplastic than pony. Ha ha! Febry Febby Sary?Found dead rottng fsh. Ate anyway. Wanted to puke, wouldn't let myself. I will survive. So lovely stoned, the sunsets. Don't dare but have to. But how can I tie off the femoral artery that high up? It's as big as a fucking turnpike up there. Must, somehow. I've marked across the top of the thigh, the part that is still meaty. I made the mark with this pencil. Im so delicis. I need eats. I wish I could stop drooling. b Believe in yourself and you can do lot. I used to wonder...wonder what was it? adventre. Wish I had less now! What a fucking adventur! NO FUN! heart, bloody, throbbing, tasty. Kindniss llife is not kind djdja fucknig Celestia! No strong. Body what is left of body pins nd needles thats what it is! Lost nearly all fat, muscle, whatevers. Bones and barley skin. Please help me. Febba...fer...Dreaming about friends. Fucking backstabbers. WHERE ARE YOU! I nice and you fucking betray me! now I rot and i hunger and i crave all alone. Well I have LOST of new friends! I carve in wood new friend. Say hello Kerr. Stopid Kerr! You have no arms! I wrote for you. Hello my name is Kerr. And I have best friend on this pile ofrock and sand. Her name, her name. My name? Twi.....Twlt Sparkl. I i love. what are books? Do they teaste? I wish I had a book. So hungry. Isnt it funny? The more of me i eat the hungrier i am. Stress twi. dont be hard. Remember, remember, um, dragon, name mane name/ Rarity? No stupid twi. Stripe? Stripe and him sending reports. Reports of what? To Celestia? The prick. What dies she do now?! I die on this land and then what? No one will know. No one gives a flying fuck. No stress now. No worries. You . . . deserve . . . a break today . . . sooo… get up and get away ... to sugrcube ,.. two all-cream cakes... special secret please....yes....salad and potato... on a . . . sesame seed bun . . . Dee... deedee… dundadee . . . January 27thRemember those shipwrecks? Guess what? They sank. Down to the bottom. Nearly killed myself trying to swim there. Who gives a rip? The bottom was like Swiss cheese after that unfortunate storm. All holed and whatnot. I'd already taken off anything that was worth taking. Four gallons of water. A sewing kit. A first-aid kit. This book I'm writing in, which I can guesstimate is supposed to be a lifeboat inspection log. That's a laugh. Whoever heard of a lifeboat with no FOOD on it? No food, but plenty of water. Oh, yes, two knives, one dull and one fairly sharp, one combination fork and spoon. I'll use them when I eat my supper tonight. Roast rock. Ha-ha. I was never to sharp in humor. I left that to my friend Pinkie Pie. Oh, I miss my friends. I'm actually horrified I forgot all about them until now. But, well, that's what happens. I need to survive, and that's all. When I get off this pile of guano-splattered rock, I'll embrace them with a big group hug. That alone is worth living for. And I am going to live. I'm going to get out of this. Make no mistake about it. I am going to get out of this. Well it's been a few hours. When I was making my inventory, I forgot one thing: two kilos of pure heroin, worth about 350,000 Bits. I would NEVER use those chemicals, but in case of an emergency, they could be used as a sedative. Oh, but I pray I will never ccome to that point. What am I saying? Survive Twilight, you have to survive! January 28thWell, I've eaten if you want to call that eating. There was a gull perched on one of the rocks at the center of the island. The rocks are all jumbled up into a kind of mini-mountain there all covered with bird manure, too. I got a chunk of stone, a pretty small one, and climbed up as close to it as I dared. It just stood there on its rock, watching me with its bright black eyes. I'm surprised that the rumbling of my stomach didn't scare it off. I threw the rock as hard as I could and hit it broadside. It let out a loud squawk and tried to fly away, but I'd broken its right wing. I scrambled up after it and it hopped away. I could see the blood trickling over its white feathers. The son of a bitch led me a merry, chase; once, on the other side of the central rockpile, I got my hoof, my back left hoof, caught in a hole between two rocks and nearly fractured it. It began to tire at last, and I finally caught it on the east side of the island. It was actually trying to get into the water and paddle away. I caught a handful of its tailfeathers and it turned around and pecked me. Then I had one hoof on its foot. I got my other hoof on its miserable neck and broke it. The sound gave me great satisfaction. Lunch is served, you know? Ha! Ha! But really, looking back, I have such shame for what I did. The poor creature. But, Twilight, STOP just stop with all of this madness. Survie, remember?! I apologize for that outburst. I don't know. I carried it back to my "camp," but even before I plucked and gutted it, I used iodine to swab the laceration its beak had made on me. Birds carry all sorts of germs, common thought, and the last thing I need now is an infection. The operation on the gull went quite smoothly, I could not cook it, alas. Absolutely no vegetation or driftwood on the island and the ships has sunk. So I ate it raw. My stomach wanted to regurgitate it immediately.A primitive reaction. I sympathized but could not allow it. I counted backward until the nausea passed. It almost always works. Almost. You know what? Ha ha I don't feel bad for that fucking bird. Oh, pardon my profanity, but I MEAN IT. Can you imagine that bird, almost breaking my hoof and then pecking me? If I catch another one tomorrow, I'll torture it. I will I will I will. I let this one off too easily. Even as I write, I am able to glance down at its severed head on the sand. Its black eyes, even with the death-glaze on them, seem to be mocking me. Do gulls have brains in any quantity'? Are they edible? I need more food. Hungry. Febrruary 13thFebrruary 13th Sun is out again, a beautiful day. I hope they're freezing their plots off in Canterlot. It's been a good day for me, as good as any day gets on this island. The fever I had while it was storming seems to have dropped. I was weak and shivering when I crawled out of my burrow, but after lying on the hot sand in the sunshine for two or three hours, I began to feel almost alive again. Crawled around to the south side and found several pieces of driftwood cast up by the storm, including several boards from my balloon. There was kelp and seaweed on some of the boards. I ate it. Tasted awful. Like eating a vinyl shower curtain. But I felt so much stronger this afternoon. I pulled the wood up as far as I could so it would dry. I've still got a whole tube of waterproof matches. The wood will make a signal fire if someone comes soon. A cooking fire if not. I'm going to snort up now. Feblary 15/17?Feblary 15/17? A gull landed on the tip of the rockpile today. Flew away before I could get in range. I wished it into tartarus, where it could peck out Father Hailley's bloodshot little eyes through eternity. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Don't know how many days its been now. Took off my back right leg even more, but lost a lot of blood. Pain excruciating in spite of heroin. Shock-trauma would have killed a lesser man. Let me answer with a question: How badly does the patient want to survive? How badly does the patient want to live? Well? I feed. I eat. I survive. I am food. I am my own roadblock to surviving. My hoof was not enough. Leg taste bttr. My only hooves trembling. If they are betraying me, I'm through. They have no right to betray me. No right at all. I've taken care of them all their lives. Pampered them. They better not. Or they'll be sorry. At least I'm not hungry. One of the boards from the balloon had split down the middle. One end came to a point. I used that. I was drooling but I made myself wait. And then I got thinking of . . . oh, parties we used to have. What was that pink horse's name? it threw good parties.. We'd be sitting on a field in the dusk with big treatsies, talking about something. Friendship maybe? Fe40?Day? Looked at my face in the water today. Nothing but a skin-covered skull. Am I insane yet? I must be. I'm a monster now, a freak. Nothing left below my waist. Just a freak. A head attached to a torso dragging herself along the sand. A crab. A stoned crab. Isn't that what they call themselves now? Hey look I'm just a poor stoned crab can you spare me a bit? Hahahaha They say you are what you eat and if so I HAVEN'T CHANGED A BIT! Dear fuk shock-trauma shock-trauma THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SHOCK-TRAUMA HAHAHAH! Twilgt ou fuckng greaseball dipstick nothing cipher zilcho zero. I knew I'd made it. I walked away from you, didn't I? I walked on my hooves. er dragged. Yes yes yes yes yes. Ha ha! Heh. Nothing left 2 cut off! I ripped my ears off yester. My mane not food. I vomit it out real horrors how gross. I have to legs and hed. left hoof washes the right don't let your left hoof know what your right hoofs doing one potato two potato three potato four we got a refrigerator with a store-more door hahaha. Well who FUCKING CARES wich hoof I eat. this hoof r that. tick toe three go. good food good meat good yes let's eat. hof good. bread crumbs hoof tste lik bred cru i forgot what now I shuldnt have eatten right hoof. Shuld start with left. Left hrd 2 write with. Good hoof time to eats. Mouth hrd 2 wrte with. I eat leg. Good ets. Still hungr have sen pony eat own head? heh he-
January 26thWell, this is just great. Two days since the storm washed me up. I paced the island off just this morning. Some island! It is 190 paces wide at its thickest point, and 267 paces long from tip to tip. I was traveling in my hot air balloon when such a terrible and unpredictable storm had me falling into the salty waves below! Ow, my horn aches. It's not snapped off, but I definitely can't use it. This is just terrible. HOW am I to get off this, well I am not even sure if it can be called an ISLAND more of a patch of land it is. But look at me, wasting ink and pages, rambling on and on. Wow, it is difficult writing with no magic. Even IF I am found, this journal is practically illegible! Okay, enough of this rant. Back to how I will survive. Well, so far as I can tell, there is nothing on this island to eat, at least for a pony. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I live in Ponyville with my dear baby dragon Spike. Oh no! I bet my friends are missing me! And most of all, the dear Princess. Oh, my work will be tardy! Alright, stay on topic. No way to erase any of this with ink and feather! If (Or WHEN) I'm never found, at least everypony can see this journal. The good news is I am not alone. During the storm, I guess more ships crashed here. Problem is, those ships have NO SURVIVORS! All they have are some carpenting supplies, plenty of matches, and, well, and heroin. The actual ships are out in the water, their supplies washed up here. I'll search the wreckage when the tide is low. Nothing to do here until then except write. Good thing I'm good at that. Well, nothing to write about though. I'm used to writing what the Princess orders. But this isn't Equestria. There is no Princess. I guess I should just write about myself! I was born in Canterlot to two unicorns, like most ponies. I guess they were loving enough. And I had my BBBFF (That's "Best Big Brother Friend Forever") Shining Armor to take care of me. I didn't connect well with all the other fillies. They all would laugh at me and all, but I always knew I was destined for greatness. All the tormenting was just because I was "different". While all the other fillies loved their little foal toys, I was hidden behind a pile of books. Now, I suppose that's what you call a "Shut In". I had the greatest foalsitter in all the history of foalsitters! Her name was Princess Cadance and she is now married to Shining Armor! Funny how things work like that. So yeah, throughout all of Magic School, the harassing and name calling didn't REALLY bother me. Shining and Cadence were always there for me, and more than I could ask for. Besides, I'd be damned if I wasn't the best out of all my classes. I bet they were all just jealous! When I first got my Cutie Mark, Princess Celestia herself was stunned by my (what she called) "limitless potential". That's how I am a student of hers so early in my life, and a very studious one too! Why am I writing this? It's almost funny. No, I take that back. It is funny. The great Twilight Sparkle sitting on a sandy rock, torn up and bleeding, already hungry. On an island almost big enough to spit across, telling my life story. Am I hungry! Never mind, I'I1 write my damn life story if I want to. At least it keeps my mind off my stomach. Sort of. Oh no! OH NO! Did I just make a 1 and not a l?! Oh, no luck fixing it now. Oh stupid stupid stupid Twilight! What have you done?! Oh dear. I need to get a hold of things. No use punching myself like that. I just wanted to be the best. I LOVE knowledge and want to BASK in it. Some of the foals used to rag me about it, call me "Chickenshit". I never fought them. That'd be stooping to their level. he thing to learn is how to survive, you know what I mean? I'm smart enough to know how to survive. That's how I KNOW I will survive now, as I did growing up. But now, I guess the meaning is literal. Funny how things work. Funny. Ha ha. Can't write any more now. My hooves's tired. I don't know why I'm bothering, anyway. Somepony'll probably pick me up soon. Right?
January 29thNo chow today. One gull landed near the top of the rockpile but flew off before I could get close enough to "throw it a forward pass," ha-ha! That's what i think is speak they use in a sport. Forgot the name. Pigskin or something. I'm not keen on sports. Theyre for filthy animals. Well, I am a filthy animal now. Look at me. My eyes hurt. Itches like hell. If the gull comes back and I get it, I'm going to cut its eyes out before I kill it. Hungry again. Still no gulls today. Reminds me of the signs you'd sometimes see on the pushcarts back in the neighborhood, so TOMATOES TODAY. I walked out into the water up to my neck with the sharp knife in my mouth. Having no magic is harder than I anticipated. Can't even swing this. Granted, I never had to use a knife before.. I stood completely still in that one place with the sun beating down on me for four hours. Twice I thought I was going to faint, but I counted backward until it passed. It works. mostly. I didn't see one fish. Not one. Ravenous. Hunger is eating my stomach. I need to feed.
February 1stKilled another gull, the same way I did the first. I was too hungry to torture it the way I had been promising myself. Or maybe my mind is saying that is wrong. Dear Celestia!! Please save me! Who am I kidding. No help now. I need to survive. I gutted and ate it. Squeezed the tripes and then ate them, too. It's strange how you can feel your vitality surge back I was beginning to get scared there, for a while. Lying in the shade of the big central rockpile, i'd think i was hearing voices. Shining. Rainbow Dash. Spike. My old friends. I cried. I miss them so much too much I miss. There was a group of Pegasi. It flew right across the island. I tried to climb to the top of the rockpile and wave to it. My back hoof went into a hole. The same damn hole I got it stuck in the day I killed the first bird, I think. I've fractured it, compound fracture. It went like a gunshot. The pain was unbelievable wait, it still is! I screamed and lost my balance, pinwheeling my front limbs like a madmare, but I went down and hit my head and everything went black. I didn't wake up until dusk. I lost some blood where I hit my head. My hoof had swelled up like a tire, and I'd got myself a very nasty sunburn. Sunburns are bad because of the radiation on your body caused by the Sun. Celestia is sweet andknd but the Sun is still a huge fireball.I think if there had been another hour of sun, it would have blistered. Dragged myself back here and spent last night shivering and crying with frustration. Crying for my friends too. I disinfected the head wound, which is just above the right temporal lobe, and bandaged it as well as I could. Just a superficial scalp wound plus minor concussion, I think, plus my horn still aches. That's swelled up too. It's going to fall off any time now. but my leg ... it's a bad break, involved in two places, possibly three. I walk with a limp. Oh it hurts so bad. How will I chase the birds now? I bet those Pegasi were looking for me. I wonder if Rainbow was in it. Now they'll never notice poor litle me on this small isle. Sweet Celestia my leg hurts so bad.
February 2nd/3rdI made a sign on the small white shingle of a beach on the island's south side. It took me all day, with pauses to rest in the shade. Even so, I fainted twice. At a guess, I'd say I've lost 25 lbs, mostly from dehydration. And hunger. But now, from where I sit, I can see the four letters it took me all day to spell out; dark rocks against the white sand, they say HELP in characters four feet high. More flying ponies will definitely not miss me! If there are any. My horn and leg throbs constantly. There is swelling still and ominous discoloration around the double break on my leg. Discoloration seems to have advanced. Binding it tightly with some cloth from the balloon alleviates the worst of the pain, but it's still bad enough so that I faint rather than sleep. Good thing I know how to treat wounds. Celestia taught me. It isn't enough. No, nothing is EVER enough. I have begun to think I may have to amputate. That didn't take up as much space as I thought. I feel myself getting weak. Save this for later. I need rest befor... Tomorrow now is. Swelling and discoloration worse still. I'll wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow tomorrow. If the operation does become necessary, I believe I can carry it through. I'm smart enough. I have matches for sterilizing the sharp knife, I have needle and thread from the sewing kit. More cloth for a bandage. I even have two kilos of "painkiller," although hardly of the type yu prescribe. But they would have taken it if they could have gotten it. You bet. Those old blue-haired ladies would have snorted air freshener if they thought it would have gotten them high. Believe it! I know im not that type of pony, but as i said before, sedatives.
February 4thI've decided to amputate my leg. For sure now! No food four days now. If I wait any longer, I run the risk of fainting from combined shock and hunger in the middle of the operation and bleeding to death. And as wretched as I am, I still want to live. Survival of the fittest. I'm not athletic, but I sure am mentally and morally fit. As a nurse once said (jokingly but still serious) treating a little scab I had when I was small, Sooner or later the question comes up in every medical student's career: How much shock-trauma can the patient stand'? And she'd whack her pointer at his chart of the human body, hitting the liver, the kidneys, the heart, the spleen, the intestines Cut to its base level she'd say. the answer is always another question: How badly does the patient want to survive? And I want to survive. I need to survive. I think I can bring it off. I really do. I suppose I'm writing to put off the inevitable, but it did occur to me that I haven't finished the story of how I came to be here. Perhaps I should tie up that loose end in case the operation does go badly. It will only take a few minutes, and I'm sure there will be enough daylight left for the operation. Ha! I keep bringer her up, but Princess Celestia told me of a far away land, a land that we Equestrians lost touch of so many generations back. I was supposed to meet up with others in an area around it. I don't even remember their names. You know i am glad and sad none of my friends ame. I dont want them suffering now. Hah haah i wonder if wed go and eat each other BAD TWILIGHT! Dont think of nasty stuff like that. Well it doesn't matter now. A freak hurricane had me wipe out here. Well here I am. Happy now you bastard hurricane? Ha ha. But I know what I have to do. This may be the last entry, but somehow I think I'll make it. Haven't I always'? And they are really doing marvelous things with prosthetics these days. I can get along with one hoof quite nicely. It's time to see if I'm as good as I think I am. Luck.
February 5thDid it. The pain was the part I was most worded about. I can't stand pain, and I thought that in my weakened condition, a combination of hunger and agony might force unconsciousness before I could finish. But the heroin solved that quite nicely. I had to. I HAD to. I opened one of the bags and sniffed two healthy pinches from the surface of a flat rock, first the right nostril, then the left. it was like sniffing up some beautifully numbing ice that spread through the brain from the bottom up. I aspirated the heroin as soon as I finished writing in this diary yesterday, the shadows had moved, leaving me partially in the sun, and I must estimate was at least 3 hours past. I had nodded off. I had never dreamed that it could be so beautiful, and I can't understand why I was so scornful before. The pain, the terror, the misery . . . they all disappear, leaving only a calm euphoria. It was in this state that I operated. Of course there was a great deal of pain, most of it in the early part of the operation. But the pain seemed disconnected from me, like somepony else's pain. It bothered me, but it was also quite interesting. Can you understand that? Of course not. I'm a sick desperate shell of my former self. It does more than dull pain. It induces a state of mind. A serenity. I can understand whv people get hooked on it, although "hooked" seems an awfully strong word, used most commonly, of course, by those who have never tried it. About halfway through, the pain started to become a more personal thing. Waves of faintness washed over me. I looked longingly at the open bag of white powder, but forced myself to look away. If I went on the nod again, I'd bleed to death as surely as if I'd fainted. I counted backward from a hundred instead. It wrks. Loss of blood was the most critical factor. Being the studious mare I am (was?), I was vitally aware of that. Not a drop could be spilled unnecessarily. If a patient hemorrhages during an operation in a hospital, you can give him blood. I had no such supplies. What was lost--and by the time I had finished, the sand beneath my leg was dark with it--was lost until my own internal factory could resupply. I had no clamps, no hemostats, no surgical thread. I had nothing but my idea of surgery and pain. The operation lasted maybe one hour. I've lost track of most time now. Not even sure if these dates are accurate. Once I finished immediately dosed myself with heroin, a bigger dose than before. I nodded into a gray, painless world and remained there for I guess 4 more hours. When I came out of it, the sun was nearing the western horizon, beating a track of gold across the blue endless ocean toward me. I've never seen anything so beautiful . . . all the pain was paid for in that one instant. So terrible but so serene. An hour later I snorted a bit more, so as to fully enjoy and appreciate the sunset. I knew I would never feel this way again. Shortly after dark I-- Wait. Haven't I told you I'd had nothing to eat for four days or whatever? And that the only help I could look to in the matter of replenishing my sapped vitality was my own body? Above all, haven't i told you, over and over, that survival is a business of the mind? The superior mind? I AM THE SUPERIOR MIND i won't justify myself by saying you would have done the same thing. First of all, you're probably not a scholar. Even if you knew the mechanics of amputation, you might have botched the job so badly you would have bled to death anyway. And even if you had lived through the operation and the shock-trauma, the thought might never have entered your preconditioned head. Never mind. No one has to know. My last act before leaving the island will be to destroy this book. I was very careful. I washed my hoof very thouroughly before I ate it. Dear Celestia what have i come to?
February 7thPain from the stump has been bad excruciating from time to time. But I think the deep-seated itch as the healing process begins has been worse. I've been thinking this afternoon of the horrible, unscratchable itch of mending flesh. If anypony came to me before complaining of this, I would smile and tell them they would feel better tomorrow, privately thinking what whiners they were, what jellyfish, what ungrateful babies. Now I understand. Several times I've come close to ripping the shirt bandage off the stump and scratching at it, digging my hooves into the soft raw flesh, pulling out the rough stitches, letting the blood gout onto the sand, anything, anything, to be rid of that maddening horrible itch. At those times I count backward from one hundred. doesn't really work so well. And snort heroin. I have no idea how much I've taken into my system, but I do know I've been "stoned" (Is that what they call it?) almost continually since the operation. It depresses hunger, you know. Well, I know now. I'm hardly aware of being hungry at all. There is a faint, faraway gnawing in my belly, and that's all. It could easily be ignored. I can't do that, though. Heroin has no measurable caloric value. I've been testing myself, crawling from place to place, measuring my energy. It's ebbing. Dear sweet Celestia, I hope not, but ... another operation may be necessary. More ponies flew over the island. Too high to do me any good. I laughed and waved. Waved? What the fuck Twilight? Now here you are, crippled, hungry, savage, survivor. Im still alive right? Doesn't matter. Getting too dark to see now. Food. I've been thinking about all kinds of food. Some Ponyville lasagna. Garlic bread. Gourmet salads. sndwics. Peach melba. London broil. The huge slice of pound cake and the scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream they give you for dessert in Sugarcube corner. Hot pretzels baked potatos baked Alaska baked pineapple tings. Onion. Onion dip with potato chips cold iced tea in long long sips french fries make you smack your lips. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 89, 63, 74, 21, 40. Tag! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!
February 8thAnother gull landed on the rockpile this morning. A huge fat one. I was sitting in the shade of my rock, what I think of as my camp, my bandaged stump propped up. I began to salivate as soon as the gull landed. Just like one of Pavlov's dogs. Does it ring?Drooling helplessly, like a filly. Filly willy. Nilly billy. I picked up a chunk of stone large enough to fit my hand nicely and began to crawl toward it. We' re down by three. Third and long yardage. . I didn't have much hope. I was sure it would fly off. But I had to try. If I could get it, a bird as plump and insolent as that one, I could postpone a second operation indefinitely. I crawled toward it, my stump hitting a rock from time to time and sending stars of pain through my whole body, and waited for it to fly off. It didn't. It just strutted back and forth, its meaty breast thrown out like some avian general reviewing troops. Every now and then it would look at me with its small, nasty black eyes and I would freeze like a stone and count backward from one hundred until it began to pace back and forth again. Every time it fluttered its wings, my stomach filled up with ice. I continued to drool. I couldn't help it. I was drooling tike a filly. I don't know how long I stalked it. An hour? Two? And the closer I got, the harder my heart pounded and the tastier that gull looked. It almost seemed to be teasing me, and I began to believe that as soon as I got in throwing range it would fly off. My limbs were beginning to tremble. My mouth was dry. The stump was twanging viciously. 1 think now that I must have been having withdrawal pains. But so soon? I've been using the stuff less than a week! Never mind. I need it. There's plenty left, plenty. If I have to take the cure later on when I get back to Ponyville (if?), I'll check into the best clinic in Ponyville and do it with a smile. That's not the problem right now, is it? When I did get in range, I didn't want to throw the rock. I became insanely sure that I would miss, probably by feet. I had to get closer. So I continued to crawl up the rockpile, my head thrown back, the sweat pouring off my wasted, scarecrow body. My teeth have begun to rot, did I tell you that? If I were a superstitious mare, I'd say it was because I ate-- HA! We know better, don't we? We're smart. I stopped again. I was much closer to it than I had been to either of the other gulls. I still couldn't bring myself to commit. I clutched the rock until I ached and still I couldn't throw it. Because I knew exactly what it would mean if I missed. I think I would have crawled right up to it without throwing if it hadn't finally taken wing. I would have crept up and strangled it. But it spread its wings and took off. I screamed at it and reared up on my knees and threw my rock with all my strength. And I hit it! A mare like me! bullseye. The bird gave a strangled squawk and fell back on the other side of the rockpile. Gibbering and laughing, unmindful now of striking the stump or opening the wound, I crawled over the top and to the other side. I lost my balance and banged my head. I didn't even notice it, not then, although it has raised a pretty nasty lump. All I could think of was the bird and how I had hit it, fantastic luck, even on the wing I had hit it! It was flopping down toward the beach on the other side, one wing broken, its underbody red with blood. I crawled as fast as I could, but it crawled faster yet. Race of the cripples! Ha! Ha! I might have gotten it I was closing the distance except for my hooves. I have to take good care of my hooves. I can't use magic anymore. In spite of my care, they were scraped by the time we reached the narrow shingle of beach. The gull flopped into the water, squawking noisomely, and I clutched at it. i got a bundle of tailfeathers, which came off in rny grasp. Then I fell in, inhaling water, snorting and choking. I crawled in further. I even tried to swim after it. The bandage came off my stump. I began to go under. I just managed to get back to the beach, shaking with exhaustion, racked with pain, weeping and screaming, cursing the gull. It floated there for a long time, always further and further out. I seem to remember begging it to come back at one point. But when it went out over the reef, I think it was dead. It isn't fair. Why why is this t took me almost an hour to crawl back around to my camp. I've snorted a large amount of heroin, but even so I'm bitterly angry at the gull. If I wasn't going to get it, why did it have to tease me so'? Why didn't it just fly off?
Febuary 9/12(?)thI amputated my other back hoof. Strange. All through the operation I was drooling. Drooooling. Just like when I saw the gull. Drooling helplessly. But I made myself wait until after dark. I just counted backward from one hundred . . . twenty or thirty times! Ha! Ha! WORKS! And then what happens to the hoof? I kept telling myself just a sandwich just a sandwich just a sandwich just a sandwich New day. Rain the last one or two days. I don't even know my DATES well anymore. And high winds. I managed to move some rocks from the central pile, enough to make a hole I could crawl into. Found one small spider. Pinched it with my hoof before he could get away and ate him up. Very nice. Juicy. Thought to myself that the rocks over me might fall and bury me alive. Didn't care. Spent the whole storm stoned. Maybe it rained three days instead of two. Or only one. But I think it got dark twice. I love to nod off. No pain or itching then. I know I'm going to survive this. It can't be a person can go through something like this for nothing. There was a priest at a small church when I was a filly, a little runty stallion, and he used to love to talk about Tartarus and mortal sins. He had a real hobbyhorse on them. You can't get back from a mortal sin, that was his view. I dreamed about him last night, Father Hailly in his black bathrobe, and his whiskey nose, shaking his hoof at me and saying, "Shame on you,little mare . . . a mortal sin . . . damt to hell, boy . . .damt to hell . . . I found out later he was institutionalized. Didnt know what that was back then. I see why now. Now, I laughat him. If this place isn't Tartarus, what is'? And the only mortal sin is giving up. Survival is a birth right. Half of the time I'm delirious; the rest of the time my stumps itch and the dampness makes them ache horribly. But I won't give up. I swear. Not for nothing. Not all this for nothing.
February 14thFound a crab. Killed it and roasted it over a small fire. Tonight I could almost believe in a higher being again. I just noticed this morning that the storm washed away most of the rocks in my HELP sign. But the storm ended... three days ago? Have I really been that stoned? I'll have to watch it, cut down the dosage. What if a ship went by while I was nodding? I made the letters again, but it took me most of the day and now I'm exhausted. Looked for a crab where I found the other, but nothing. Cut my hooves on several of the rocks I used for the sign, but disinfected them promptly with iodine in spite of my weariness. Have to take care of the only hooves I have left. No matter what.
Feb...?Took the other back leg off. Right at the knee. Sleepy all day. "Doctor was this operation necessay?" Haha. Shaky hooves, like an old man. Hate them. Blood under the horseshoes. Scabs. Rusting. Been rusting how lng? Only I don't want to look. No way no how. I remember i was i had a scaly sort of thing. he was a baby. he was nice. Wonder his taste. And I know my friends. Pony meat. Free food, just on display! Ha! Funny! NO! I'm fine. I come back back to i tink treehouse. I get prosthetics, I could be as good as new. I could come back here and tell ponies "This. Is where it. Happened.". Ill be more pplastic than pony. Ha ha!
Febry Febby Sary?Found dead rottng fsh. Ate anyway. Wanted to puke, wouldn't let myself. I will survive. So lovely stoned, the sunsets. Don't dare but have to. But how can I tie off the femoral artery that high up? It's as big as a fucking turnpike up there. Must, somehow. I've marked across the top of the thigh, the part that is still meaty. I made the mark with this pencil. Im so delicis. I need eats. I wish I could stop drooling. b Believe in yourself and you can do lot. I used to wonder...wonder what was it? adventre. Wish I had less now! What a fucking adventur! NO FUN! heart, bloody, throbbing, tasty. Kindniss llife is not kind djdja fucknig Celestia! No strong. Body what is left of body pins nd needles thats what it is! Lost nearly all fat, muscle, whatevers. Bones and barley skin. Please help me.
Febba...fer...Dreaming about friends. Fucking backstabbers. WHERE ARE YOU! I nice and you fucking betray me! now I rot and i hunger and i crave all alone. Well I have LOST of new friends! I carve in wood new friend. Say hello Kerr. Stopid Kerr! You have no arms! I wrote for you. Hello my name is Kerr. And I have best friend on this pile ofrock and sand. Her name, her name. My name? Twi.....Twlt Sparkl. I i love. what are books? Do they teaste? I wish I had a book. So hungry. Isnt it funny? The more of me i eat the hungrier i am. Stress twi. dont be hard. Remember, remember, um, dragon, name mane name/ Rarity? No stupid twi. Stripe? Stripe and him sending reports. Reports of what? To Celestia? The prick. What dies she do now?! I die on this land and then what? No one will know. No one gives a flying fuck. No stress now. No worries. You . . . deserve . . . a break today . . . sooo… get up and get away ... to sugrcube ,.. two all-cream cakes... special secret please....yes....salad and potato... on a . . . sesame seed bun . . . Dee... deedee… dundadee . . .
January 27thRemember those shipwrecks? Guess what? They sank. Down to the bottom. Nearly killed myself trying to swim there. Who gives a rip? The bottom was like Swiss cheese after that unfortunate storm. All holed and whatnot. I'd already taken off anything that was worth taking. Four gallons of water. A sewing kit. A first-aid kit. This book I'm writing in, which I can guesstimate is supposed to be a lifeboat inspection log. That's a laugh. Whoever heard of a lifeboat with no FOOD on it? No food, but plenty of water. Oh, yes, two knives, one dull and one fairly sharp, one combination fork and spoon. I'll use them when I eat my supper tonight. Roast rock. Ha-ha. I was never to sharp in humor. I left that to my friend Pinkie Pie. Oh, I miss my friends. I'm actually horrified I forgot all about them until now. But, well, that's what happens. I need to survive, and that's all. When I get off this pile of guano-splattered rock, I'll embrace them with a big group hug. That alone is worth living for. And I am going to live. I'm going to get out of this. Make no mistake about it. I am going to get out of this. Well it's been a few hours. When I was making my inventory, I forgot one thing: two kilos of pure heroin, worth about 350,000 Bits. I would NEVER use those chemicals, but in case of an emergency, they could be used as a sedative. Oh, but I pray I will never ccome to that point. What am I saying? Survive Twilight, you have to survive!
January 28thWell, I've eaten if you want to call that eating. There was a gull perched on one of the rocks at the center of the island. The rocks are all jumbled up into a kind of mini-mountain there all covered with bird manure, too. I got a chunk of stone, a pretty small one, and climbed up as close to it as I dared. It just stood there on its rock, watching me with its bright black eyes. I'm surprised that the rumbling of my stomach didn't scare it off. I threw the rock as hard as I could and hit it broadside. It let out a loud squawk and tried to fly away, but I'd broken its right wing. I scrambled up after it and it hopped away. I could see the blood trickling over its white feathers. The son of a bitch led me a merry, chase; once, on the other side of the central rockpile, I got my hoof, my back left hoof, caught in a hole between two rocks and nearly fractured it. It began to tire at last, and I finally caught it on the east side of the island. It was actually trying to get into the water and paddle away. I caught a handful of its tailfeathers and it turned around and pecked me. Then I had one hoof on its foot. I got my other hoof on its miserable neck and broke it. The sound gave me great satisfaction. Lunch is served, you know? Ha! Ha! But really, looking back, I have such shame for what I did. The poor creature. But, Twilight, STOP just stop with all of this madness. Survie, remember?! I apologize for that outburst. I don't know. I carried it back to my "camp," but even before I plucked and gutted it, I used iodine to swab the laceration its beak had made on me. Birds carry all sorts of germs, common thought, and the last thing I need now is an infection. The operation on the gull went quite smoothly, I could not cook it, alas. Absolutely no vegetation or driftwood on the island and the ships has sunk. So I ate it raw. My stomach wanted to regurgitate it immediately.A primitive reaction. I sympathized but could not allow it. I counted backward until the nausea passed. It almost always works. Almost. You know what? Ha ha I don't feel bad for that fucking bird. Oh, pardon my profanity, but I MEAN IT. Can you imagine that bird, almost breaking my hoof and then pecking me? If I catch another one tomorrow, I'll torture it. I will I will I will. I let this one off too easily. Even as I write, I am able to glance down at its severed head on the sand. Its black eyes, even with the death-glaze on them, seem to be mocking me. Do gulls have brains in any quantity'? Are they edible? I need more food. Hungry.
Febrruary 13thFebrruary 13th Sun is out again, a beautiful day. I hope they're freezing their plots off in Canterlot. It's been a good day for me, as good as any day gets on this island. The fever I had while it was storming seems to have dropped. I was weak and shivering when I crawled out of my burrow, but after lying on the hot sand in the sunshine for two or three hours, I began to feel almost alive again. Crawled around to the south side and found several pieces of driftwood cast up by the storm, including several boards from my balloon. There was kelp and seaweed on some of the boards. I ate it. Tasted awful. Like eating a vinyl shower curtain. But I felt so much stronger this afternoon. I pulled the wood up as far as I could so it would dry. I've still got a whole tube of waterproof matches. The wood will make a signal fire if someone comes soon. A cooking fire if not. I'm going to snort up now.
Feblary 15/17?Feblary 15/17? A gull landed on the tip of the rockpile today. Flew away before I could get in range. I wished it into tartarus, where it could peck out Father Hailley's bloodshot little eyes through eternity. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Don't know how many days its been now. Took off my back right leg even more, but lost a lot of blood. Pain excruciating in spite of heroin. Shock-trauma would have killed a lesser man. Let me answer with a question: How badly does the patient want to survive? How badly does the patient want to live? Well? I feed. I eat. I survive. I am food. I am my own roadblock to surviving. My hoof was not enough. Leg taste bttr. My only hooves trembling. If they are betraying me, I'm through. They have no right to betray me. No right at all. I've taken care of them all their lives. Pampered them. They better not. Or they'll be sorry. At least I'm not hungry. One of the boards from the balloon had split down the middle. One end came to a point. I used that. I was drooling but I made myself wait. And then I got thinking of . . . oh, parties we used to have. What was that pink horse's name? it threw good parties.. We'd be sitting on a field in the dusk with big treatsies, talking about something. Friendship maybe?
Fe40?Day? Looked at my face in the water today. Nothing but a skin-covered skull. Am I insane yet? I must be. I'm a monster now, a freak. Nothing left below my waist. Just a freak. A head attached to a torso dragging herself along the sand. A crab. A stoned crab. Isn't that what they call themselves now? Hey look I'm just a poor stoned crab can you spare me a bit? Hahahaha They say you are what you eat and if so I HAVEN'T CHANGED A BIT! Dear fuk shock-trauma shock-trauma THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SHOCK-TRAUMA HAHAHAH! Twilgt ou fuckng greaseball dipstick nothing cipher zilcho zero. I knew I'd made it. I walked away from you, didn't I? I walked on my hooves. er dragged. Yes yes yes yes yes. Ha ha! Heh. Nothing left 2 cut off! I ripped my ears off yester. My mane not food. I vomit it out real horrors how gross. I have to legs and hed. left hoof washes the right don't let your left hoof know what your right hoofs doing one potato two potato three potato four we got a refrigerator with a store-more door hahaha. Well who FUCKING CARES wich hoof I eat. this hoof r that. tick toe three go. good food good meat good yes let's eat. hof good. bread crumbs hoof tste lik bred cru i forgot what now I shuldnt have eatten right hoof. Shuld start with left. Left hrd 2 write with. Good hoof time to eats. Mouth hrd 2 wrte with. I eat leg. Good ets. Still hungr have sen pony eat own head? heh he-
