Insane.
That’s the only word that I can think of using to describe the events that have been happening here. I find myself prisoner in this dank, broken down cell they so happily named the Sunrise Mill, a name that evoked joy and calmness, when the reality of it is that this... shack (even that word is too generous when it comes to describing this place) is a rundown, cylindrical structure, it’s coned roof collapsed over years of rot eating away at the wooden support beams. This “mill” is three stories high, the highest level inaccessible due to the fact that the floor contained so much moisture that, if one were to step on it, they would fall through as easily as a weight dropped on wet paper.
The second floor is where I am now, writing away on these pages, hoping that this will help me better understand what has been happening and, in the absence of materials to paint, find a semblance of peace for a couple of hours. We each had our own room, but due to the ceiling collapsing in two of them, I’ve been forced to live with a roommate. Luckily for me, the black pegasus stallion who was supposed to move into my room actually got his own room since Kathy, who saw how much I disliked the idea of an unknown pony staying in the same room as me, gave him her room and moved in in his place. I’m really glad she did, she’s more likely to be better company than that other stallion. In addition, I’d much rather be sleeping in the same room as my cousin than some pegasus stallion that I’ve never met before.
Our days spent in the mill are long and boring, my only real company being Charles and Kathy. Zecora had stayed with us for a couple of months, but she has been gone for the last couple of days now, called out to an outlying town who has been infected with Discordia, a fatal disease that turns the infected into mad, violent and sometimes extremely dangerous individuals, some going as far as murdering others in cold blood. The nurse of our company, a pink manned, white coated pony who I’ve begun to enjoy as company but who is sadly way too busy for me to talk to often, told me of one such case, where an elderly mare, heavily infected with the disease, had strapped lit barrels of gunpowder to herself and ran, screaming at the top of her lungs, into a school full of young foals. She caused the destruction of not only the school, but also the lives of all the families of the foals, who all died in the explosion. I was curious about the subject but didn't push further, since she had begun to cry and mumbling under her breath incomprehensibly.
I don't really have that many real friends here. I mean, I am acquainted with most of the ponies, but only one of them is really considered my friend. Shimmer Mint, or Shimmy as I like to call her, is a happy go lucky mare, with a light blue mane streaked with cyan. She has tons of energy and a good sense of humor, making everyone laugh during dinner. She's also very smart, being able to understand most of the rants not even my sister could decipher! Being an artist herself, we are able to talk about our respective artistic skills. Being a photographer, her camera never leaves her side. Sadly for her, there isn't much to take pictures of here, the landscape being composed of grey dirt and rolling hills, a tree barely in sight and no animals for miles, but she still manages to take pictures of the ponies here, usually snapping pictures of me while I work the kitchens. I love talking and spending time with her but, like most of the ponyfolk here, she's busy tending to some task or another and rarely has a lot of time to sit down and talk. I've noticed her spending a lot of time with this black manned, grey coated pegasus stallion with a green muzzle. He seems nice, but I haven't been able to speak with him much. I wonder if there is something going on between those two...
I think I'll make some spice flower curry tonight. That dish is the most popular amongst our company but it takes a long time to make. I'm not even sure if we have any spice flowers anymore, I think we might have used them all last week, when I made another batch of spice flower curry. I guess I could always send one of the pegasus into town to get me some, but I'd rather not bother them, they have enough work as is. Well, enough stalling, time to get to the kitchens.
So, I didn't end up making spice curry (I had been right, we were out of spice flowers) but I did mix up the recipe a little and managed to make a decent sweet sunflower soup, which seems to have been liked by all the ponies, except for that black pegasus, he seems to be allergic to sunflowers. It's almost ten o'clock here; the sun has set a long time ago. Kathy is sleeping soundly right now; she had drunk to much cider downstairs and almost fell unconscious... Poor little Kathy, reckless as always. Anyways, I should get some sleep as well, we have a big day tomorrow apparently and I have to get up early.
Judging from the position of the moon outside, it's midnight now. I can't sleep. My mind is jumbling with thoughts on a question I have been fearing to answer, pushing it back day after day, and telling myself I'll be able to answer it later. But now it's keeping me from sleeping and I think it's time I do this. I have my pen, a stack of papers and a small light. I'm not sure how long it will take me, but I'm going to explain to you guys how I got here, how my life went from peaceful to chaotic in the space of just a couple of hours. Here begins the tale that I baptize Spectrum.
