You breathe in the scent of cooked goods, everything from cookies to cupcakes in the Cake’s bakery… Cupcakes, huh, why does that sound so…intoxicating?
Ah, yes. That weird fantasy you had yesterday. Boy that was the weirdest one by far. You could still hear that little filly’s screams of pain; fell their flesh ripping from your hooves… Hehehe! Maybe you should grab one right now, see what it would really feel like. You bet it’d be tasty-wait WHAT!
That’s not… you talking about that kind of thing… right? You can feel your body slow down, the muscles in your legs and ankles becoming taut, precise in a way.
You begin to panic and run up to your room. Along the way, the bakery began to shift and change. The yellow walls and wooden banisters supporting the ceiling and walls became splattered with blood. The treats in the display case now held chunks of flesh and bones hidden within the confectionary treats.
Your room itself is no different, but with a few more accessories. The sheets on your bed are made of various pictures, held together by careful stitching. On a coat rack is the same thing, but wearable, like a coat or cape. Attached on the side of the cloak were bloody, disfigured wings. Hanging over the coat was a necklace with unicorn horns hanging on it. You know that all these materials were assembled from the multiple living ponies that you cut up, chopped, and dissected. You look away from that side of the room only to see a more gruesome sight in front of you.
Positioned on an old chair you had was a stuffed doll. It was bloody, its eyes blank and her once light blue body was speckled in a rusty maroon color. The area where its wings once were, were now just bloody stumps, its cutie mark was either on the bed sheets or on the cloak. It’s once sparkling rainbow mane and tail were now dusty and strands of it were falling out.
This once beautiful mare used to be Rainbow Dash.
Your best friend that you cut up, and cooked into cupcakes.
And she was staring at you with cold, dead eyes. Eyes that, even though were dead and showed no life, screamed emotions of hurt, pain, grief.
She is screaming at her killer. She is screaming at you.
You close your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over seeing your best friend’s dead body. You slowly make your way over to your table and begin to search through the drawers. You find an assortment of things, stuffed into the corners and on the top, but you’re not looking for knifes, hammers, or saws. You’re looking for a bottle, a tiny bottle that can fix all of this.
You hear a thump near Rainbow, and you have to force yourself not to look, because you know that the stuffed pony has moved.
You then find the bottle, you then try desperately to get the cap off. You can hear the shuffling of rough fur on the wooden floor.
You then find the bottle, you then try desperately to get the cap off. You can hear the shuffling of rough fur on the wooden floor. You know that the doll is moving towards you, and it scares you horribly.
The cap of the bottle flies off with an audible pop, and you quickly begin to pour out the pills. You keep two in your hoof and pour the rest back in. The shuffling is directly to your right, and you can see a bloody hoof come up and thud onto the desk.
You toss the pills into your mouth and swallow, leaving your throat feeling constricted since you didn’t swallow them with some water. You can feel something crawl up your back and something rests on your shoulder. It began to whisper.
“You killed me… Pinkamena.” You shudder as she says your full name. You mane, tail, and body become sticky and moist of sweat and blood.
She let out a little giggle besides herself. “Oh, come on, Pinkie, I’m sure that you have thousands upon thousands of things to say to me. After all, were best friends right?” She roughly spins you around to look at you eye to eye. Her once bright, energized eyes were now glazed over with death. Her face covered with blood and dust from the days she sat in the chair not moving a muscle.
Your hair had deflated a long time ago, and a few strands were stuck in front of your eyes. She pushed them aside and leaned in closer, so close that you could smell the blood on her lips.
Suddenly she began laughing uncontrollably. She sounded insane, but to her in this world, who’s to say you didn’t sound the same?
“We’re good friends right? Right Pinkie? Because good friends drug each other and cut them up?! Because if not-“ She leaned in even closer, your snouts scrunching up against one another. “Then you’re really fucked up and those pills, that you just took, will never get rid of your memories. Because you did this, and you can’t go back in time, can you?”
The world began to go back to normal. The blood began to fade, the sheets on your bed returned to their normal, solid pink hue, the cloak and necklace faded out of existence and the coat rack was becoming empty again.
But what gave you the most comfort was that this weird, stuffed Rainbow was becoming more and more transparent, and eventually she faded out completely.
You stand in the room, your mind blank as your body tries to understand what just happened. It was just a psychological freak out Pinkie, don’t panic, it’s over now… But you can’t help but rush to the bathroom and empty your stomach’s contents.
It’s been like this for a while now, every week or so often you would have a breakdown, your mind would make weird scenarios and sometimes you couldn’t tell if you were having one or not. Sometimes they were subtle, like colors would be flipped, and some objects would seem distorted.
But some days, the entire world would seem different. Those ones were rare, but when they happened, and after you take some medication for it, your body would shut down and try to comprehend what happened. It normally ends with you throwing up, though.
You look up from the toilet, flush it, and then walk over to the sink to wash your face. After you think you get most of the vomit off, you look up to the mirror to see yourself.
You look terrible. Your eyes are red and you have visible bags under your eyes. You’ll have to brush your teeth, too. You can see some vomit still stuck in your teeth.
You still feel sick, but you’re glad that you’re out of your weird world of blood and gore. Sometimes, on a bad day, you can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy… And those days scare you the most.
