My dearest Bonbon, you asked me once why it is that I fear bodies of water, and why I shudder at the dance of heavenly bodies as they herald in the tides with gravitational forces. I would have offered the truth to your inquiries, but you are so helplessly enslaved to conventional thoughts that my words would undoubtedly lead you to skepticism and disbelief. I would go so far as to say that you would call me a raving lunatic. I hold no resentment towards you, nor anypony who would seek to label me as such. Of these pending accusations of insanity, I can only plead guilty, for who could retain an ounce of sanity after beholding such terrifying secrets as I have? My shattered perception of reality has beheld the fathomless depths of madness, far beyond the waking eyes of mere mortals, and from which there is no means of escape. The life that I have now is a sugar coated lie, masked by misplaced and unjustified smiles. It offers me little surcease from the terrors that haunt my tortured soul. My only solace shall be this, that I shall not live long enough to see the horrors of the deep ever again, for upon the completion of this manuscript I shall die.
The final years of my life were spent in Ponyville, a cheerful suburb nestled under the wings of the protective and ever vigilant Canterlot, and graciously located in the heartlands of Equestria far from the surrounding oceans. Before I became a resident of Ponyville, I lived in the bustling and expansive metropolis known as Manehatten, and it is here that my arduous and harrowing journey began. Nearly three years ago, on the 23rd of July, I boarded the S.S. Pony Ride, a rather small, but sea worthy vessel that frequented the bay of Manehatten in the mid-summer months. I was a passenger, on my way to visit relatives in Baltimare, a short excursion south along the eastern coastline that I had made dozens of times without incident. By some heinous error in navigation the ship foolishly ventured too far out into the eastern seas, where the skies are beyond the control of Pegasai. Our ship became lost to the clutches of a violent and torrential storm, Mother Nature unleashing a deep seated ferocity that had, for too long, sat in complacency. For days we were aimlessly tossed about by merciless winds and large swells of hostile water. Many Pegasai on board brazenly sought to brave the mighty tempest, promising to send for help once they had made it back to land. I have no clues as to how they fared in their desperate pursuits of the distant shores of Equestria, save that nopony came to our aid. Many of the ponies left on board the S.S. Pony Ride later agreed that even athletes as proficiently experienced as the Wonderbolts would be hard pressed to succeed in such daring feats.
Eventually the fierce storms subsided, but our relief was short lived, for as we gazed out into the staggering distances surrounding us, the true futility of our situation began to sink in. Upon every horizon there lay only a depressing union of sea and sky, unbroken by sightings of distant shores, or other ships. Our provisions had, by this time, run out, and one by one, my fellow passengers and crew members began to succumb to the elements. I cannot recall exactly how many dead stallions, mares, fillies, and colts I heaved over the side of the S.S. Pony Ride into their watery graves, but I shall never forget their faces. Lightless, empty eyes, and gaping mouths have assaulted my dreams, while visions of gaunt corpses, their filthy skin and matted fur stretched over excruciating torment and agony, have haunted my waking eyes.
By some twisted stroke of cruel fate, I had outlasted my companions, and lay adrift on endless seascapes of cerulean water, to ponder what remained of my increasingly shortened life span. Beneath gentle moon, and scorching sun I was stranded on the tranquility of a disturbingly calm ocean. I cannot truly describe the subtle terrors that lie in quiet solitude amidst an immense and unchanging existence, such as the embrace of the open sea. A lesser pony might have then yielded to insanity, for I was left unaccompanied to behold the dreadful vastness of oceanic vistas, and there was nothing to inspire or comfort my deteriorating mind. That night, visions of those in my company who had, through the sweet release of death, avoided the torturing solitude which I was doomed to bear, haunted my exceptionally vivid dreams. Stallions, mares, fillies and colts alike, were cast into the immeasurable depths of their own aquatic requiems, where there waited, patiently, a host of fearfully wretched monsters, fang ridden maws opening wide to welcome my fallen comrades. Despite my best efforts, everypony was sent reeling into the violently churning, crimson waters where wide, glassy eyed abominations voraciously feasted upon pony flesh. With slimy forked tongues, the watery eidolons licked the blood from their flabby lips, ragged strips of sinew and throbbing veins cascading from the corners of their mouths. Then, in a horribly ritualistic unison, the horde of nightmarish creatures turned their scaly heads towards me, their visages twisting into wide toothy smiles.
I awoke with a start, trembling violently and drenched in a cold sweat, Celestia’s scorching sun at the cloudless zenith of its daily journey. The S.S. Pony Ride gave a sudden and aggressive lurch, as if attempting to fling me from the topmost deck into the ocean’s waiting grasp. I staggered to my hooves, the bleariness of sleep and the weakness of malnutrition still hovering about my consciousness like some malevolent pestilence of delirium, and peeked curiously over the ships railing, fancying that I had collided with something massive. Swirling spirals of water, in an exact likeness of behavior one might expect from water flowing down a drain, stared back at me, beckoning me into the deep. The colossal whirlpool drew the ship closer and closer to its epicenter, with an insatiable eagerness and hunger not unlike that of a timber wolf’s. Once or twice I thought I had glimpsed dark shadows, just beyond the surface of the water, lithely swimming in sync with the raging vortex. The formidable gales of nature’s fury reignited with zealous fervor, and the once unblemished skies were now stricken by a plague of dark and ominous clouds. Thunderous noises resonated from the heavens nearly striking me deaf, and lightning crackled menacingly across the contemptuous firmament. I held on tight to the ship as it circled around its own impending doom, salty water dousing my face in generous doses. Stability became increasingly difficult to maintain as my own forward momentum collided with intense centripetal forces. I shut my eyes and held my hooves over my head, accepting my death with trace amounts of relief.
In an instant, the deafening noise, chilling winds, and circular motions of the S.S. Pony Ride ceased, and I suspected that my own death had halted it all. I opened my eyes, surprisingly disappointed that I was still alive, and took in my surroundings. I immediately rubbed my eyes against a shaky fore hoof in disbelief, fearing that lonely melancholy and borderline starvation had altered my own observations of reality, for as I meticulously studied my curious surroundings, the sheer improbability of them existing at all began to sink in. There I stood, alone on the top deck of the S.S. Pony Ride; exactly as I had been moments ago, save for the sight of the open sea. My eyes beheld not the sweeping panoramas of azure seascapes, but rather, the constricting embrace of a dank and immense grotto. The slimy, algae caked walls of my enclosed and cavernous dwellings emitted a faint, eerie light of phosphorescence that could scarcely fend off the pressing darkness. A palpable stench lingered in the musky air, like that of thousands of decaying fish and countless stalactites hung precariously overhead, dripping water rhythmically into the depths below, like massive fangs drenched in venom.
I began to frantically stride about the vessel’s top deck, my head shifting in all directions nervously. My pulse and my breath both quickened their pace as I flew into hysterical fits of panic and fear at the presentation of my enigmatic situation. Where in Celestia’s name was I, and how had I come to be there? Why hadn’t the ravenous whirlpool devoured me whole and sent me to my watery demise? I soon came to the rather depressing conclusion that I had nothing to gain from lingering in the soft luminescence of phosphorous ridden cave walls. If I was to find the answers to my questions, I would have to venture further into the bowels of the groveling cavern.
I plunged into the murky waters below with all the grace that my weary body allowed, and clumsily frolicked towards the rocky shore. I lingered for a moment on that abysmal shoreline, amidst the desperate undulations of expiring creatures of the deep that had curiously become grounded. Writhing octopi, scuttling crustaceans, slithering eels and flaccid masses of scales noisily slapped against the damp, rocky floors in vain attempts to reach the nearby waterline. Starved and drained as I was, the heinous thought of devouring these aquatic animals occurred to me, despite my species’ background as herbivores. After a few moments of desperate consideration, I found that I was unable to bring myself to partake of the wriggling banquet of tentacles and fins. Drenched to the bone in salty water, and shivering uncontrollably, I disgustedly turned my head away from the depressing efforts of the strange and pitiable marine beasts. For reasons beyond my understanding, these miserable, outlandish nether regions of waterlogged stone held for me an ominous sense of forthcoming disaster, and I was wholly unable to escape the sensation of unknown entities, scrutinizing my endeavors from the shadows. So intense were these feelings of grave peril lurking within the obscurity presented by the dimly lit caverns that I felt as though I was one of the putrid oceanic creatures that dotted that deplorable shoreline, longing for the embrace of the cruel ocean in preference to the rocky recesses that now lay before me. After a brief period of silent, perhaps paranoid trepidation, I pulled myself up and took tentative steps towards a gaping tunnel in the far wall, leaving the pathetically grounded creatures to their vain exploits.
My legs, through days of exposure to the sporadic swaying of the ocean, had been reduced to jelly, and I stumbled across the firm stability presented by the cold, cavern floors. My awkward hoof steps echoed throughout the gloomy, stone passageway accompanied by the occasional pitter-patter of fallen droplets of water, and my own shallow breaths. Every now and then a narrow crawlspace, or branching passageway would present itself to me, but I stayed my straightforward course, preferring the main artery to the tightly cramped alternatives. As my journey led me further down that ghastly tunnel, I grew tired of the inadequately glowing phosphorescence, which was all together ill-equipped to deal with the pressing darkness. I therefore opted to cast an illumination spell. Arcane energies surged through my body and shot out of my horn in the form of sea green sparks. Flickering teal light danced across the filthy walls, floors, and ceiling of the rocky passage, the gloom lurking just beyond the reach of my magically radiant invocation. Unfortunately that simple display of magic began to drain my already fleeting reservoir of energy and I swayed on the spot, a considerable migraine erupting across my skull. I ambled inelegantly down the dank, natural corridor for an indefinite amount of time, caressing my temples in a feeble attempt to shepherd the headache away.
I felt, more than saw, the tunnel widen into an immense cavernous abode, much like the one I had come from. So massive and hollow was this newfound alcove that my spell could reach neither wall nor ceiling. And if, upon the distant rocky perimeters of that cave, there resided the seemingly ever present glimmering of phosphorescence, it did very little to dispel the inky blackness. I was startled to a halt when a light rustling noise, as that of the broken surface of glassy water reached my ears, and I felt a tepid trickle of liquid against my fore hooves. The weak light of my spell found sanctuary within the reflective ripples of the water that had been disturbed by my careless steps. The underground lake, which I had quite literally stumbled upon, eventually resumed the tranquil stillness it had held for unknown years prior to my arrival. In the blink of an eye, a pair of brilliantly radiant orbs manifested, just below the surface of the underground lake. I was carefully regarded by the twin spheres which in my mind held a striking semblance to stars twinkling in a darkened sky. And as I leaned forward to better glimpse the captivating sight before me, I stood as though on the precipice of the world, peering down over the edge, and into the fathomless depths of madness.
Together, and in perfect synchronization, the spheres of light rose from those hazy, nether depths, with barely a stir in the placid water to mark their emergence, and lurked cautiously, just beyond the edge of my weakening illumination spell. A fearful plague of sinister curiosity overwhelmed my mind and I intensified my light spell, expending the rest of my magic in the process. As the last light of my rapidly decaying luminosity spell fell over my surroundings, I noticed a great multitude of other shimmering orbs skulking in pairs just below the surface of the lake. Alarmed, I was able to throw myself away from the water’s edge, but I had already tumbled over the brink of insanity and would continue to plummet deeper and deeper into that vile abyss for the rest of my life. For as the last expiring embers of my magic ebbed their way out of my horn and yielded to the blackness, so too did the light of the orbs all around me, and I found myself in an absolute darkness. I knew then, that as I had observed the once glowing lights, so too had they been observing me. They were not stars at all, but eyes. Large, glassy visual receptors, possessing neither lid nor iris, imbedded in pallid, scaled heads with flabby lips and razor sharp fangs. If there had ever been any optimism for the chance of survival, that hope was instantly transmuted into futility by the alchemy of fate as the detestable, pale things began to close in on me.
Little do I remember of my frantic flight away from those hideous, water bound fiends. Over the following years I have tried to repress the memories of the wildly echoing screams reverberating off of irregular water soaked stone, and of the closely following maniacal cackling, like a chorus of griffin talons upon a massive chalkboard. From the fragmented remains of my exhausted mind, I have attempted to dispel the horrible remembrances of pain and anguish as gnarled claws shot from the darkness and scornfully raked across my flesh, drawing unhealthy amounts of blood and fur from my weary body. All of these details I have tried to forget; tried and failed. Operating under the influence of pure adrenaline, I sprinted back down those stone tunnels from whence I had come. Neither pain, nor malnutrition, nor exhaustion would slow my eager legs urging me away from the watery eidolons that swiftly hunted my retreating form. I caught glimpses of other pale monsters, appearing from the branching networks of dark corridors to join the malicious mob in their pursuits, and on several occasions I was forced to duck down low to avoid webbed claws reaching out from the side passages. A high pitched chortling permeated the rocky hallway like some sick parody of merriment. Was I merely a tool for their entertainment? Were they hunting me for the sport of it and not due to necessity?
I know not how the gap between myself and those hideous denizens of the abyss had grown large enough for me to make good my own escape, save that the sheer numbers of my rather persistent pursuers, within the confines of such cramped spaces, must have slowed their efforts considerably. After what seemed like an eternity I shot from the laughter ridden tunnel, and into the phosphorescent alcove of which I had previously resided. I skidded to a halt, noticing to my horror that the S.S. Pony Ride was now little more than a sunken wreckage of splintered wood and twisted metal. Whether from fear, exhaustion, or loss of blood, I collapsed on the cold rocky floor and wept amidst the now still forms of the various grounded sea creatures that had failed in their frantic journeys towards the waterline. Oh how I could relate to those tragically lifeless, scaly and cartilaginous bodies that littered that dismal rocky beach. I had once been a pony, eager for the calming waves and the salty sea air, but now I felt, rather ironically, like a fish out of water.
The cave trembled at the mighty pounding of the mobs lumbering movements, and like plumes of blood flowing from fleshy crevices, the monsters frantically poured from the dark passageway. I felt their scaled, snickering figures drawing closer, and could almost taste their hot, palpable breath, wandering through the pungent air, past their gnarled fangs and forked tongues. I think I truly went mad then, joining in the ecstatic and jovial laughter of those revolting fiends with my own hysterical giggles. In my delirium I stumbled into those murky nether depths, landing with a resounding splash into the aquatic grave of the S.S. Pony Ride. The salt water burned painfully within the tattered folds of my jagged wounds, and I thrashed about helplessly in the tepid water for a moment before an intense current carried me on some unknown path. My limbs, aching with over exertion, did little to influence my unintentional marine expedition and I soon became aware of a pattern in my travels, namely that I was flowing with the water in circular motions. Around the epicenter of the powerful cyclone I flew, possessing neither the energy nor the will to resist. The world became a blur of hazy blackness broken only by bulging eyes glaring at me from nearly every direction. Those eyes, gleaming with contempt in the soft light of phosphorescence, were the last things I saw before my weary body submitted to the vile tribulations and fell unconscious.
I awoke screaming in a warm, cozy bed, situated in a darkened hospital room. The infirmary’s staff informed me that a few days prior to my awakening I had washed ashore on the frigid, Northwestern beaches of Vanhoover, along with a considerable amount of shattered driftwood and coarse rigging. How I had suddenly appeared on the North Western shores of Equestria when I had most recently tread the Eastern Seas remains a mystery to me, and perhaps it is better that way. The doctors and nurses explained that I had, on many otherwise silent nights, roused other patients from their slumbers with my fearsome cackling and incoherent mutterings. Countless disjointed utterances had drifted past my lips, but I spoke not a phrase of lucidity or reason. Many sought to ask what had led me to the shores of Vanhoover in such a deplorable condition. Whether it was from my own doubts, my fears at recollection, or the imminent disbelief of my audience, I concealed all that had transpired in those dismal, oceanic recesses from every inquirer, insisting that I could remember nothing. A few days later I was released from the hospital. I knew not where I was going, only that my journeys were to be eastbound, away from the sight of that hideous, oceanic horizon that I had endured for many a restless night from my 3rd story hospital window. I boarded a train, headed east, and got off at Ponyville, a sleepy, inland settlement where I took up residency in the waning years of my existence.
Since then I have tried to lead a normal life, but my futile attempts have all been for naught. Constantly I am observed by unknown spectators, judging my every movement from bulging, glassy eyes. I often try to convince myself that it was all just a feverish hallucination, and that borderline famishment, coupled with absolute solitude, had addled my fragile mind. This I tell myself, but the counter reply is swift and conclusive, for the scars that I had received from those dwellers of the abyss remain etched upon the skin of my back and in the electricity of my deteriorating brain. I know that what I saw that day was real, and that is why I fear bodies of water and shudder at the dance of heavenly bodies as they herald in the tides with gravitational forces. I dream of a day when the rhythmic waves, which have hitherto concealed what ought to remain hidden from ponykind, shall crash violently against the distant shores, heralding the ascension of those nameless things that wallow upon the deep, dark ocean floors. With webbed claws and razor sharp fangs, they shall drag the peaceful land of Equestria down into those fathomless depths of madness.
Dear Celestia, those despicable, unblinking eyes are always looking for me! But even their formidable sight will not recognize me once I am but smoldering ash! The feeling of oil against my coat is much more comforting than sea water, and soon I shall be wreathed in cleansing flames! Goodbye forever my dearest Bonbon, for with one final strike of this match I shall be no more…
