An Eve to Remember · Teen (Suffering)
An Eve to Remember: Anything Goes
Raisins.
Through a neon velvet haze, you wake to the soft smell of raisins.
You feel just like you're sleeping on a cloud, but there's a crackling, snapping fire in your ears. And you do not feel the cool wet winds of the sky.
Your brain is bruised and swelling, throbbing against a membrane pulled tight. Constricting, digging. Bright white flashes, for every breathe you take.
You open your eyes, but you do not see what's before you. Only muted shapes and colors, that swim in waves across your sight. And the more you try to focus, the more your skin crawls and your stomach churns. Until your throat lurches and your gullet pleads to expel the toxins you swallowed.
You roll to your side and cast open your beak, but all that comes forth is a cry of pain. Fire is burning inside your body. You scrunch your face and whimper like a kitten, as you feel the burning, itching line across your back and down your side.
You're praying to Celestia for the pain to end, but you're frightened and shivering. Little twitches that drive a flaming dagger even deeper into the wound in your body.
You try to move your hand to caress your side, but it isn't listening. It's stuck in place, bound tightly behind your wings.
You kick out with your hind paws, but they too are held fast against you. And the more you struggle, the more your side burns. The more your vision blurs with tears running down your face.
You sniffle and try to swallow the sobs.
You're trying to recall, but your mind just isn't working. Your head throbs, and nothing but confusion returns. You don't know where you are, and you can't remember anything.
Your breathe is quick and shallow. And you still keep smelling raisins. Sickly sweet raisins, clouding up your brain. Twisting your stomach; feeling nauseous.
You feel something move beside you, and now you are screaming. Lungs pumping panic. High pitched screeches, ringing off the walls.
You think you hear a commotion in another room, but you don't know for sure. You're too focused on the creature that's slithering beside you, wiggling against your wing as it pulls on bandages.
You're screaming and you're crying, and you're not stopping to breathe. No curses, no prayers, just guttural shrieks and wails.
A pair of hooves clamp down on your beak, and a wavy pink monstrosity looks you in the eyes.
"Be quiet, silly! If you keep that up, you're going to wake the whole town! And that would be super duper rude of you!"
Its voice is sharp and sweet. Familiar, but you can't quite place it.
"And Gummy, get away from there! That's icky!"
You feel the creature lift away from you, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
"But I'm really glad you're awake now, miss grumpy screamy complainy pants. I really didn't want to spend tonight alone."
"Wh-what do you want f-from me?" you ask with a voice that's more fragile than you have ever heard.
"Want? I just want to spend a very special Hearths Warming Eve with you, silly! Look!" The smell of raisins grows overwhelming. "I even baked you your very own griffin kidney pie!"
Author's Note
This was my entry to the January Challenge for The Writer's Group.
The prompt I chose was:
5) You wake up on a cozy couch in a dark room with a splitting hangover. There’s a lit fireplace and a Christmas tree in front of you. You feel something waggling against your wing and can't remembering anything. Find out what happened last night.
Length: 543 words. (FimFiction lies.)
A Daring Escape · Teen (Language, Rudeness)
A Daring Escape: Anything Goes
The pain was the first thing he noticed. Sharp, biting pain in his back right leg. Must be broken. Burns all along his left side. Hurt like a diamond bitch, but nothing serious. More scratches and cuts than he wanted to even think about.
He tried to remember what happened. The spell had gone wrong. Must have been a leak within a reference between components. Might have bridged a gap and caused a feedback. Recursively casting, until the whole spell collapsed into its base component: raw magical energy. Meltdown. He couldn't remember. He couldn't tell. And right now his bucking head was too full of throbs to play the role of a Celestia-damned forensic scientist.
But there was the explosion. Falling. Hitting the bucking ground. Crawling on three hooves as everypony left him behind. Bucking cowards. Getting into that alley, and... He didn't know. Now he was in some bed with an annoying machine that wouldn't stop beeping. A sterile antiseptic smell lingering in the air, and the soft clopping of hooves somewhere outside of sight.
"Buck it! Buck it! BUCK IT! Clop moi nethers, Oi'm in a buckin' 'ospital!"
He shot up in bed, ignoring the complaints of a battered body.
Hoofcuffs have to be first. Focus on those, and the guards can be second. Time matters more than grace; act before they can respond, and nopony will know what hit them. Couple together an expansion spell with a clockwise rotor. Apply enough force, and it will either unlock the cuffs or bust open the locking mechanism. Foal's play. Curl the body, and the points of tension will be the restraints. Keep a replicator primed in case of multiple cuffs.
And go.
In one fluid motion, the colt curled up in a ball, cussed wildly from his broken leg, and tumbled out of bed.
"WHA'. THAH. BUCK!!!"
He writhed on the ground, kicking all four legs, tangling himself in sheets and tubes. IV drip and fresh blood was well soaked into his fur, before he gave up and sighed. Too exhausted to go on, he resigned himself to his fate.
"Foine, yah gol' plated bastards. Do what you want, oim inno'cent. Celestchya's moi wit'ness, Oi'll prove it!"
Silent treatment. Always the silent treatment with those smug sons of mules.
"Foine. Buck you! Oi'm outta here. N'pony can detain an uh'standin citizen w'out pro'ble cause."
There was some commotion around him. What sounded like a platter falling to the ground somewhere in the room, and the clopping of determined hooves outside the door.
"Nopony is trying to detain you, young colt! And watch your language! There are foals about!" came a stern, but feminine voice. One which rather, didn't sound anything like a guard at all.
Must be a detective.
But if a detective came all the way out to the hospital, that meant he was a high priority target. His identity was supposed to be under wraps, but this meant they knew who he was. This meant they've been building a case against him. Maybe there was a snitch within the club. And maybe that meant the explosion wasn't quite an accident. Maybe that meant he was left behind for a reason. Buck them. Buck them all to Tartarus and back! He thought they were all in it together! He thought they believed in the cause.
But he couldn't focus on that at the moment. What he needed was time.
Keep the detective distracted and talking. That will give time to assess the situation, and make a move from there. Keep a kinetic dissonance spell primed, and be ready to switch it to something more destructive.
"You can't trick me into sel' incriminatin' ev'dence wit your false senses of security. Oi know moi roights!"
Perfect. Hit them directly with the object of their game, and they'll get flustered trying to come up with a response.
"Yes. And everypony would be happier if you exercised your right to remain silent," came the surprisingly snarky response. "Not to mention, you're distressing mr Shine over there. And Luna knows he's been through enough lately."
That didn't sound right. Not at all. The colt gingerly moved the bed sheet away from his eyes to take a look at his aggressors. What stood before him was a rather irate looking mare in a nurse's uniform, and a small collection of staff and patients by the door. No guards. No detective. Just a bunch of confused, offended ponies that looked like they were trying to decide between scampering away and giving him a piece of their mind.
Well. Ponyfeathers.
Author's Note
An old scrap of a story, and another thing I never intended anyone else to read. It was one of the very first pieces I ever wrote for Canterlot Colt's Club. It's narrated by Blankflank's predecessor and mentor, describing the aftermath of a heist gone wrong.
I mainly wrote it to get a better grasp on the inner city Canterlot accent of the post-Celestia era. It's obnoxious and intentionally pushed to its limits. Colt's Club would have a much more toned down version of it, so as to be more palatable.
This character was the main inspiration for the way I wrote Gummy though.
