//------------------------------//
// Clinical 
// Story: Clinical 
// by WhammyBar-BmoThirteen 
//------------------------------//

	Alright. For the sake of the slightly complex and unnerving events to come, I have forced myself to provide whomever reads this piece of literature with a short introduction.  My name is Charles, Charleston by birth, but Charles since grade school. I reside alone, in the home of my long deceased mother and father in the simple town of Cloudy Hills. The town, which certainly lives up to its given name, is very hilly and almost constantly coated in a thin blanket of fog and mist. It's strange however, seeing as our town is rather distant from any large bodies of water, that the air surrounding us somehow manages to maintain it's high level of moisture throughout all four seasons. Aside from the obscure atmosphere, the towns most notable attraction (and my current place of employment) is Cloudy Hills Asylum. It is a fairly large building composed of faded red bricks as well as some mossy, cracked cement near the base off its high walls. The windows are large, barred pieces of glass that take the form of the iconic stained glass windows from the Gothic churches of old France while the roof is coated with green slate shingles, and a multitude of bent, steel lightning rods. To be honest, the whole building up there on the foggy hill looks like something from a cheap B-movie Dracula film, yet, the horrors I have witnessed inside those walls surpass anything a Hollywood producer in their right mind could dream to dream of. 

Each morning, I force myself from my bed after another near sleepless night and take a long cold shower to ease my mind of the worries and regret from the night before. It's strange really. For the short amount of time I spend showering every morning, I can relax and forget about the horrors of my daily life. Maybe one day I'll move somewhere cold. Alaska would be nice. However, it's not long before I feel my body begin to numb up, and I have to exit my personal land of chilled serenity and dress myself for work. The usual uniform: Bright, tooth-pasty scrubs and a surgical mask, reluctantly accompanied by brown, steel-toed boots and cheap plastic gloves. I grab an apple form a large pile on my way out the door. (No sense in skipping breakfast after all,) and make my way to the bus stop. 

Taking the bus to work is a nightmare in and of itself. The fact that my civic is up on cinder blocks doesn't really bother me; it's more the fact that I lack the funds to fix it if I ever wanted to. I hardly get payed enough for the shit I have to put up with on a day by day basis, but all complaints aside, the car is a piece of junk and I am much happier ignoring the dirty glances of the other poor souls forced to utilize public transportation. I sit as close as I can to the door to avoid as much contact with other humans as possible. As much as I'd love someone to talk to, there's really nothing I am able to discuss. Well, aside from work, but I doubt anyone would care to hear about that, more or less posses the ability to stomach the information coming out of my lips. Its truly is gruesome. 

After what feels like hours of getting holes burned in me, the bus arrives at the end of the route. I'm usually the last one off the bus, except for today. A huddled figure was asleep in the seat behind me, concealed under a large, woven blanket. I ventured a though of waking the stranger before I departed, but with time fleeting as quickly as it was, I immediately vanquished the idea, and hopped off the steps and through the finger-printed double doors of the Greyhound. 

The path up to the asylum is a long one. Made out of marble sized gravel pieces, the grey trail winds back and forth through the trees and eventually disappears into the clouds. The path could be much shorter if the builders had constructed it in a straight line up to the hilltop. The waves and curves multiply the walk time about four fold, and are truly an unnecessarily beautiful waste of time and money. Of course, one could always venture from the path, but the aesthetically pleasing arrangement of roses, tulips, and mums designed by the gardeners have a strange way of subconsciously preventing you to do so. So I walked through the twists and turns of the path, as I did every morning, listening to the ambient sound of gravel crunching beneath my heavy boots.

It's difficult, living the life I live. The long winding trail gives me plenty of time to think about this as I gradually approach my destination. Although I try not to think about my grim reality, it's kind of impossible not to. After all, there is not much more to think about. After about ten excruciatingly long minutes, I arrived at the front door. I pushed through the heavy iron doorway and entered the lobby. Same as usual. A group of approximately twenty nurses were bustling back and forth. A number of patients were there as well. All of them in their white uniforms as usual. There was so much uniformity between the patients as well as the nurses, that the hospital constantly had the aura of a prison looming within its lanky, mint-green halls. While everything was orderly and neat, it still made me sick to my stomach; something it managed to accomplish on a daily basis. My boots squeaked on the newly waxed, linoleum, checkerboard floor as I approached the front desk. "Good Moarning Chaals." Greeted Trinity from behind the winding, cherry desk. The eyes behind her thick, pink spectacles were glued to a notepad. Without looking up from her work, she reached over to the computer and signed me in just as she miraculously managed to do every morning. Her eyes still glued to the paper in her hand, she spoke to me once more. "You're ohn killing duty today Chaals." Her accent seemed to grow thicker by the day. It seemed to be growing stronger at almost the same rate that I began to understand her Bostonian pronunciations. Either that, or hit hadn't changed at all and I hadn't learned jack shit. But I had learned something. Killing duty was undoubtedly the most mentally and emotionally scarring job this nuthouse had available. Just hearing the words sends a chill up my spine. I nodded in approval and made my way towards the staff coat room. 

The lockers are old. Old Old. They are brown with rust and covered in the stench of mold and putrid forgotten lunches. I hastily undid the combination lock and opened my personal chamber of storage. I dropped the fruit from this morning at the bottom, and reluctantly grabbed the blood-stained pullover from one of the lockers two hooks. The other hook was occupied by an air freshener because hey, a man can try right? I brought the nasty thing down over my head, trying my best not to gag, and slowly sulked back to the lobby. I pushed the coat room door open with my foot. and strode across the tiles. The looks were excruciating. They all knew. Every last one of them. Their eyes burning holes deeper than the deepest chasm at the bottom of the sea. It made me angry. Not because they looked at me like I was some type of horrible monster, but because they were right in doing so. I WAS some horrible monster. About to steal the life of many a poor soul who had no better judgement. No concept of life or death and a complete grasp of the inability to fend for themselves. The ones called "incurables" by the directors of this entire hospital organization. 
I made my way over to Wing B, and pushed through the heavy swinging doors. They swung shut on their spring-loaded hinges behind me, teetering back and forth for a brief moment in the door frame, as if they unsure of which way to turn, and eventually gave up all hope of pressing on and came to a stop exactly where their short journey had begun.

The door to the basement was made of thick, heavy, lead bars, backed by a small I-beam acting as a deadbolt for a secondary form of access prevention. The deadbolt was on the outside, assuring every passerby that it's intent was not to keep people out, but rather the opposite, to keep them in. A metaphorical trap, that one might knowingly walk into out of sheer curiosity and desire to venture into the risky and unknown. But no one in all of Cloudy Hills would dare venture beyond the dead-bolted door. None except myself, and the two other employees whom had spent enough employment time in this deathtrap to earn enough trust for its punishments. I lifted the deadbolt slowly and opened the door, keeping it open with one hand while I tested the intercom on the inside. A monotone, Bostonian reply assured me that everything was in order, and the remote activation on the deadbolt would keep me from being trapped inside. I let it slam back down into position and made my way down the stairs. 

The atmosphere down there was entirely different. Altered enough, so that it gave the upstairs a feeling of joy and happiness. Well, not really, but the dark cement walls and hissing pipes could really make it feel that was every once and a while. Hadrian was waiting for me outside the cell of which I was assigned.  He looked at me and ushered towards the old door. I stood up on my tiptoes to peer through the dirty, elevated glass window to get a glance at the poor, helpless soul whom I was to dispose of. After catching a glimpse of his face, I quickly relocated myself away from the window in utter shock. I shot an angry and reluctant glance and Hadrian and shook my head violently side to side. He sighed and looked down at the dirty cement floor. "I...." He hesitated for a moment, either to collect his thought or organize the ones he already had into a suitable manner; maybe even I bit of both, I am unsure. "I'm sorry Charles. I know he's a young one." Charles reached down to his leather belt and removed a small carpenters hammer. The handle appeared new, but the once reflective luster of the hammers metallic head had been replaced by dent's and scratches from years of wear and tear. He gripped the hammer by its head and held out the handle in my direction. "But, a job's a job." He looked solemn when I refused to question him further, grabbing the hammer seemingly without a second thought. "Look Charles." Hadrian gave me a long, serious look. "I don't wanna be here any more than you do. It's tough I know, but we've gotta accept it. After all, it's better to be the one holding the hammer, than the one behind it." I didn't know how to respond. Of course, what he was saying was entirely correct and I knew this. Even so, hearing those words escape from his lips just seemed so wrong. I decided however, it would be better not to trouble myself further with such bothering thoughts, and I absent minded opened the heavy door and stepped into the cell, leaving Hadrian and the assurance of safety and sanity behind.

I was immediately greeted with an unpleasant and indistinguishable shriek. It startled me, and I stepped back a bit. The patient was young. The youngest I'd ever seen in the clinical section. He had situated himself in the furthest corner from the door and removed his shirt. His pants, the same color as the normal patients, were stained black at the knees, indicating he had spent much time on the cells filthy floor. However, this wasn't the only indicator. The floor of the cell was covered with drawings. Each of them were different and unique but seemed to share one similarity. They were all equines. Ponies to be specific, although I didn't become aware of this until a bit later. I glanced back up and the young man in the corner and gave him a questioning look, pointing down at the drawings that littered the floor. He said nothing; he only sat there. Staring at me with wide eyes and sliding his right hand gently back and forth through the air, as if he was touching some invisible object. I took a step toward him, only to have my eardrums assaulted by another shriek. This time however, I could make out the words. "Stay away from her!" He had shouted. I was confused. What was he talking about? "Don't hurt her! She's mine!" He shrieked again. Maybe Hadrian had been right. After all, this patient had been moved here for a reason. I gained my bearings and walked towards him. Immediately he thrust himself backwards into the wall, his legs spread slightly and arms outstretched as if there was something in the small space behind him he was protecting. Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked at me. I felt a wave of guilt sweep over my body. Who was I? Who was I to take the life of another? Especially one in a condition such as this. 

Despite my better judgement however, I began to channel these thoughts into anger, and shortly after violence. I swung the hammer and it collided with his temple. He yelled in pain and fell to the floor in tears. A thin stream of crimson blood poured from his ears as he lay there screaming. "Stop! Stop it! It hurts!" I took another swing. This time he anticipated it and blocked it with his hand. I felt his fingers shatter as they met with the hammer and bent backwards. "She needs me! She doesn't have a family! Please don't do this!" I raised it above my head to take another swing. It seemed that he was leaning though. As I began to bring the hammer down from the peak of my arc, he pushed up with his one good hand and tried to scramble away. The hammer just barely collided with his ankle, shaving off a good portion of skin and shattering the left side of his ankle. He fell to the floor and attempted to catch himself with his good hand. Alas, the weight of his body combined with the speed of the fall was too much for one arm to take. His radius snapped and his forearm bent like a rotten banana. He crashed to the floor face first in a scream of agony. Yet, he still found the strength to roll himself over onto his backside and resiliently push himself away from me with his last functioning limb. He pushed himself back up against the wall, leaving behind on the floor a small puddle of blood and teeth. He looked away from me, over to the original corner in which the mauling had begun. "I'm sorry.." He sobbed. Blood ran from every orifice on his battered face as he cried. I readied my hammer for the last, final swing as he looked down at the cell floor. "I'm so s-sorry Scootaloo. I.... I tried so hard. I lov-"

His tears of woe were brutally interrupted. I brought the hammer down on the back of his head. His fragile cranium must have caved upon impact, seeing as he immediately fell limp to the floor. A steady stream of blood flowed from his ears and eyes as gravity gently guided his lifeless carcass down the wall. I threw the hammer to the ground in utter spite of myself and stormed out of the doorway. I barged past Hadrian and walked furiously towards the stairs. He tried to call me back but I wasn't in the mood for another one of his famous 'pep-talks'. I hammered the buzzer with the side of my fist and the deadbolt in front of the door swung open. I narrowed my eyes and made for the coat room, my left boot leaving behind red footprints  from when I had carelessly stepped in the liquids which exploded from his face upon it's impact with the ground. 

"Eh Chaals waare you goin?" I didn't even shoot her a glance. I opened the door to the coat room and threw off the pullover. I jammed it back into the locker and slammed the rust door shut. It closed with a loud clang, which echoed throughout the empty room like water droplets in a dismally empty cave. Not a long ringing echo, but more of a short reverberation of sound which hung in the air for a brief moment, ringing in my ears before suddenly dropping off the face of the earth. I opened my locker and slammed it again, this time a bit harder. As an obvious and predictable result, the echo droned on for about an extra second. Satisfied with myself, I took a pencil and clipboard from the shelf near the back of the room and wrote.

"Sick. Taking the rest of today off."

I dropped it on the cherry desk in front of Trinity and turned for the front door. 
"Sumthins up with him today..." She murmured under her breath. It's almost funny how loud she can be when she thinks she isn't... Almost...

I burst through my front door and immediately made for the bathroom. Yes, it was time for a cold shower. Lord knows I needed one. I believe I stated this previously, but cold showers are like my gateway to the realm of the peaceful. A nice, relaxing, immersion into the better life. I can't exactly explain why, but when I'm in there, my body tingling under the cool droplets, I feel like everything is gonna be okay. But today was different. I couldn't get that kid off of my mind. What the hell was he talking about? The way he seemed to be defending something or someone he called 'Scootaloo' was completely and utterly alien to me, to the point where I couldn't stand to be left alone in this dark patch of mind that would ruin all my showers to come. I killed the water and gabbed a towel from the bathroom closet. 

After drying myself off, I donned some casual clothing and made myself comfortable in front of my desktop. It booted up quickly, seeing as Windows 9 could quite possibly be the greatest OS ever conceived, and in no time, I was ready for some research. I opened my browser and searched for 'Scootaloo'. Instantly, my research project was completed. There were ponies everywhere. The most frequent being a small orange pegasus with a purple, flipped hairstyle convincing me that this was the infamous 'Scootaloo' of which the patient had spoken of. I was amazed, yet curious at the same time. What was all of this? This magical world of care and bright colors, so unlike the world I resided in, seemed unreal. Well, it was a cartoon, so the unreal aspect might not come as such a surprise, but the concept overall. It seemed impossible, that somewhere in this cruel, unforgiving world, there could be such a place.  

I began a new research project. An internet quest rather, to discover where all of this beautiful nonsense had arisen. The source of this glorious fountain of false-truths and altered realities turned out to be a television show for young girls. Friendship is Magic, was the title, which had such a strong overtone of unreality to it there was no doubt it belonged to this show. It was canceled, about 10 years ago after it's 7th season had aired, due to budget cuts as well as a 'fan-base' who's unhappy members were constantly growing in numbers. 

As if driven by some unknown force, I began a thorough search for episodes of this 'Friendship is Magic' program. Much to my disbelief, there weren't as difficult to find as I had originally imagined. In fact, there were about 3 copies of each episode in multiple languages on an outdated video hosting site called 'Youtube'. I started from the beginning as any logical person would, and watched. Something about the multicolored horses prancing about on the screen in front of me sent an otherwise unobtainable sense of warmth through my body. It was as if I had been completely reborn and I swear to you I am not exaggerating. 

That's about all I remember from the night. I woke up at my desk. My neck was indescribably sore from sleeping on it's hard wooden top. I rubbed my eyes to remove all the crust and took a look at my computer screen. The screensaver was running, a group of multicolored fish swam back and forth across my monitor, weaving in and out of a pixelated coral reef. I shook the mouse and they vanished, only to be replaced with a Youtube page. The video was finished, and other videos with similar content were displayed in smaller windows for any user who might find interest in them. Judging from the title. It appeared that I had made it somewhere along in the fourth episode of the second season before I checked out. It was phenomenal. The characters were so unbelievably in depth I felt like I was closer to their world with every millisecond that went by. As time fleeted past, hour after hour, it was if I could reach out and touch-. I stopped myself mid thought. My mind darted back to the cell in the clinical ward. The patient, screaming as he defended Scootaloo, almost as if he had been to their world and back. I shook my head and vanquished the idea. As real and approachable as it may seem, the world in which these colorful equines go about their business in is, after all, contained within a computer screen. My mind triggered another thought. Work. What time was it? I glanced at the clock embedded on my monitor screen in horror. It was ten past nine. I was already late for work. I hurriedly threw on my scrubs and made for the bus stop. For some reason I was able to bring myself to skip my daily shower today, for my mind felt cleansed by the absolute glory and glamour of non-reality. 

I had missed the eight-thirty bus, but catching the bus at half past nine was no issue. Sure I would be more than an hour late to work, but who really cared after all? I sat in the same seat as I usually did near the Greyhounds front end and was eventually on a steady pace towards Cloudy Hills Asylum. 

The work day seemed to fly by. Of course, this was primarily because I wasn't on killing duty anymore, but I was also driven by the fact that I had some motivation. I patiently dealt with all of the mental sick, helping them overcome their fears and vanquish their hindering memories. I had a mission to complete. I hadn't even come close to the halfway point in my glorious new discovery and don't think for a single second that anyone or anything for that matter was going to persuade me to lag behind, delaying my reunion with the colorful, magic world known as 'Equestria'. Ten hours I worked, thought it felt like only half that. As I left for the exit with a bounce in my step I was stopped suddenly, by the thick, Bostonian accent of Trinity. "You look Ahwfly happy today Chaals. Whats the mattah daaling? Do you ave some lohvly ladies waiting for you at home?"
She looked at me with a teasing expression and batted her eyelashes. I smiled, and gave her my best shrug before turning back around and strolling towards the door. 

The tangerine sun was just beginning to set over the hilly horizon as I left the Asylum and for once, the foggy layer of clouds over the town looked almost welcoming. It looked like home. I met the Greyhound at the bottom of the winding gravel trail and climbed aboard with a bounce in my step. Once again, I made no hesitation in positioning myself in my seating of choice for the journey back to my domicile. You wouldn't be able to tell regardless of your seating on the bus relative to my face, but I was smiling behind that tooth-pasty surgical mask. I felt happy.

Once again I gave my cold shower a rain check and threw on a clean and casual set of clothing before coming to a rest in front of my computer. Anticipating my arrive home later that very night, I had provided myself with the favor of putting my computer to sleep, rather than turning it off, with the specific intent of keeping open the Youtube page on which I had left off. The next episode on the list was episode five of the second season. This episode, titled 'Sisterhooves Social' was a brilliantly scripted episode as usual but it made me wonder. If Rarity was the sister of Sweetie Belle, and Applejack the sister of Applebloom, who was Scootaloo's sister? It certainly couldn't be Rainbow Dash, that would be biologically impossible right? The thought drifted about in my mind, being hopelessly over-processed until my memory kicked in. I had yet another flashback to that cell and that boy. Screaming and shrieking. "She needs me! She doesn't have a family!" My heart sunk. It sunk deep down in my chest, lower than it had ever sunk before. What if, I pondered, by some, unfathomable chance, that patient wasn't crazy. In fact, what if we, the nurses, those in the universally accepted 'correct mindset' are the ones who don't see? What if Scootaloo is there, in the Asylum as I speak, cold and hungry with an aura of loneliness surrounding her poor, helpless body. I felt horrible and there was nothing I could do. I was blank. Out of ideas. The estuary of my mind had run itself completely void of any liquid whatsoever. What was I to do?

That's when I saw her. Not exactly then, at the time in the last paragraph, but a bit later; after I had plowed through the entirety of seasons two and three and made my way to work the next morning no less than three hours late. I was making my way across the lobby when I saw it. A quick, yet hardly subtle flash of orange between the crowd of legs in the lobby. At the far right of the crowd near the entrance to the B Wing, she emerged. Trotting silently across the now not so newly-waxed linoleum checkerboard floor. I wanted to call out to her but I couldn't. You see, I probably should have mentioned before that I am dumb. A mute. My vocal cords have not uttered a single word, note, or frequency since the day I was brought into this world. I would have brought this up earlier had I remembered that those who read this might not necessarily have any direct relationship to me, resulting in a complete lack of knowledge of my physical being. It seems as if I have just grown accustomed to everyone around accepting this, and tend to forget that it is quite an important quality to attempt to bring forward in conversation. Regardless, there she was, trotting across the floor towards the B-Wing. I hurried to the front desk to check in for the day and began to chase after her. 

The 'chase' wasn't exactly an all out run, but more of a determined walk in her general direction. She miraculously managed to slip through the double doors with perfect timing. Dashing between their teetering pattern during a split second in between swings. I slightly increased my pace as to not lose sight of her, and as soon as I pushed through the double doors, I observed the lack of presence in the hallway, save for me and her, and ran. She heard me about half a second to late. She fluttered her wings and tried to get away but I caught her in my hands. Holding her around the belly, I gently lifted her up. Her soft, orange fur gently positioning itself between my fingertips as the light wind produced from her furiously fluttering wings caressed my face. "Put me down you butt!" She demanded. "Or I'll make sure Rainbow Dash comes around here and teaches you a lesson."  "I wish she would be less afraid" I thought to myself. "Afraid? Me? I'm not afraid of anything!" She shouted. My eyelids shot open in sheer awe. She could hear the thoughts I directed at her. How could this be? "You can read my thoughts?" "Why do you care?" She spat back at me. "Look." I was trying my best to be reasonable, "I'm gonna put you down now okay? and we're gonna talk okay? I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise." She stared up at me with her round violet eyes and nodded. I gently released my grip and lowered her to the floor. She leaned back to preen her wings for a moment and then looked me in the eye. "Well?" She asked sharply. "Aren't you gonna do something?"
I didn't know what to say. Obviously I wanted to talk but I had nothing to say. What the hell are you supposed to ask a cartoon pony anyway? What type of shampoo do you use? "Look buster, I have a very busy schedule that I need to stay on top of so make it quick." Finally, I had a suitable question. "How did you get here? Into our world I mean?" I thought. She paused for a moment, as if unsure of what to say. "We've always been here." She answered. " Whether you see us or not, depends on how well you use your eyes." She gestured to her own set of purple vision spheres with her front hoof and then about-faced, continuing her leisurely trot down the hallway and eventually rounding a corner and disappearing from sight.

The rest of the work day went on as usual, and aside from the random instances in which Scootaloo would trot by, my day went by as it did the day before; fast and easily. Having Scootaloo around the Asylum was a nice up-lifter to my day. Just knowing that she was there;that she existed, made me smile more than I had in a long time. I thought about what she had said earlier, and decided I had a new plan to put into action. A plan to search for ponies. At the end of the work day, Scootaloo was nowhere to be found. Seeing as she had apparently resided in the Asylum for an extended period of time, I didn't worry much about leaving her behind when I checked out that evening. 

It seemed that every day since I discovered Friendship is Magic the winding path and garden became a bit more appealing to the eye. I was starting to enjoy the walks up and down the hill more and more and had begun to understand why they were constructed in the first place.

I climbed aboard the Greyhound and once again, sat in my usual place of residence. However, there was something on the bus that I had seen before. In the seat behind me, what appeared to be the very same huddled mass under the very same blanket I had discovered on this very same bus earlier week. The more I looked at it, the more it appeared to be impossibly human. I hadn't noticed this before, but it was in fact breathing. My further examinations had caused me to notice the rhythmic rise and fall of the figures cover, indicating the time of each individual breath. Again, the thought crossed my mind. It was time to use my eyes. 

I lifted the end of the blanket closest to me and much to my surprise, a white and cerulean tail was nestled underneath. The tail was wavy, with some pieces of hair sticking out in random places. I hadn't seen that tail much in the past, but it was unique enough for me to recognize it's owner almost immediately. I gently pulled the blanket all the way back and sure enough, there she was, comfortably situated on the bus seat and deep in slumber. "Cloud Chaser..." I mouthed the words as they formed in my brain. Her ears suddenly perked up and I remembered. I immediately disbanded all thoughts I had of hear. After all, no sense in waking her up. It didn't take more that twenty seconds for her ears to slump back down, signaling that she was out cold once again. I watched her sleep, as creepy as it may sound, simply because she looked so adorable; all curled up there on the seat completely free from any form of danger.

Suddenly, the greyhound doors swung open. I had arrived at my stop. However, I wasn't done with Cloud Chaser yet and without thinking, a wrapped her up in the blanket all nice and tight and took her off the buss with me. I burst through my front door and tore up the staircase, setting her down gently on my bed. As she lay there, I removed my work clothes and put on the comfy casual's. Then I waited. I waited for her to wake up. At one point in her sleep, she twitched her hind leg a bit. The small action was so unfathomably adorable, it was all I could do to keep myself from flailing and screaming like a little girl.
Eventually, she stirred. I watched mesmerized from my bedroom floor as she stretched and opened her eyes, suddenly standing up. as if in a dream, to try and get a grasp on where she was. After about five seconds of this, she flopped down on my bed. She hadn't noticed me yet, so I figured I'd make the first move.

"Uhm... Hello Cloud Chaser." I thought. Just like on the bus, hear light-purple ears perked up and she quickly swiveled her head in the relative direction of the sound. "Wh-Who are you?" She asked "W-Where am I?" "Don't worry." I reassured her calmly "You're safe here. My name is Charles, and this is my house." Cloud Chaser started to look around.  I wasn't fully convinced that she trusted me yet. I took another shot at it. "Are you hungry? Would you like me to get you some food?" She looked at me and tilted her head to the side a bit. It was positively, non-negotiably adorable. "Do you have any apples?" She asked me curiously. "Of course!" I thought back. "Follow me to the kitchen." Without a second thought she jumped off the bed and trotted behind me. It was truly unbelievable. After everything that had happened in the past few days, I couldn't be sure if I was dead and this was the afterlife, or by some miracle on earth, all of these events were actually taking place and I was smack dab in the middle of them.

In the kitchen, I took the brightest, most succulent looking apple from the top of the stack, and gingerly held it our to her. She sniffed it once, and then took it in her mouth. Chewing slowly and quietly, she finished the red delicious and looked up at me as if to ask for more. I made no hesitation in hurriedly fetching her another fruit from the pile. This time it was a Granny Smith. Probably my favorite apple of all time due to it's stunningly noticeable sour flavor. She ate that one as well, chewing it slowly and enjoying it as she did the last one. After she swallowed, she nuzzled my waist a bit and smiled happily. My heart fluttered so fast that I swear it would have burst clean out of my chest if its velocity increased by even a fraction. I pet her mane and she giggled, which is about the time when I received a text message. It was Hadrian asking for help with his groceries. Lazy lazy Hadrian. Why did he always have to ruin my fun with his pointless errands. Well, I suppose grocery shopping isn't entirely pointless, but it sure as hell wasn't any less important that keeping Cloud Chaser supplied with as many apples as she could eat. Regardless, I gave her one more apple to munch on, and began to walk to the bus stop.

I soon discovered that I was not the only one feeling lonely. As I made my way towards the front door, Cloud Chaser suddenly appeared trotting at my side. "Are you coming?" I thought. "I suppose..." She replied. Her voice was so sweet.

We boarded the bus together and found a seat near the back. I had never sat back there before and I found that truly unfortunate, seeing as the seats back there were absolutely flawless. They were soft, and comfortable, just as they were initially designed to be. Cloud Chaser settled next to me. She leaned up against my shoulder and relaxed. I could feel her breathing. Her soft, warm, purple fur again the side of my face. I smiled, yet again on that bus, for at this moment, I felt as if I meant something to someone. All these years all I ever wanted was for someone to at least act like they care about the poor, poor, mute. Who would have guessed such affections would come from that of a cartoon pony? Certainly not me, I'll tell you that much.

We met Hadrian at the market and proceeded to do our shopping. At this point, I had come to the conclusion that I was one of the only few gifted with the ability to see these colorful equines, so I didn't think twice about bringing CC into the store with me. The town's local market wan't huge, but it was busy and easy enough to get lost in. I made sure CC was close by my side at all time, as we strolled through the isles assisting Hadrian with his multitude of items. I attempted to sneak some extra apples as well as a small bag of potato chips into a personal bag without CC noticing, which turned out to be easier than I initially imagined. CC was subdued by the constant distraction of all the smells and sounds she had never seen before.  Her eyes were wide and her ears vertical. Although she had known me for a very little amount of time, she still stuck close by my side as if she knew I would protect her from any harm. And although I myself had only known her for a very little amount of time, I promised myself that I would.

About half an hour into our shopping escapade, something changed. I wasn't sure if I hadn't noticed it before, or if my perception of these oddly placed equines was becoming stronger, but I could her her walking now. The rhythmic clip-clop of her hooves on the tile floor of the isle made me smile so hard it hurt. I giggles a bit, and she turned to me. "What is it?" She asked. Her face was gifted with the brightest smile. "Oh, it's nothing." I thought back. This whole situation was getting more and more incredible each day. "C'mon tell me!" She whined, jumping up and down anxiously like little kid on Christmas morning. "It's nothing, really. I promise." She accepted the answer this time, and went back to her duty of discovering new sights, smells and sounds as if nothing had happened.

We arrived home almost an hour later that I expected. fortunately however, tomorrow was Sunday and I didn't need to work. I sat down on the couch in the living room and CC sat next to me. I gently ran my fingers through her blue and white mane as she curled up next to me in a tight little ball. I could feel her warm breathing up against my body, and I couldn't help but notice the way one stray hair would flutter graciously for a moment each time she exhaled. It was pure bliss.

Things went on that way for about a month. Each morning, I would leave CC behind and head off to work. Scootaloo would be trotting about the Asylum as usual and it seemed that for once, everything was normal in Cloudy Hills. Each day, CC and I grew closer and closer. We opened up about our past, and our dreams for the future. Not only did she convinced me to fix the Civic, but she helped me with it too. Who would have know a cartoon pony possessed such an intellectual foundation for auto-mechanics. She loved driving around in it as well. Each day when I returned from work, she would beg me to take her for a drive. Even if it was just around the block. She would sit on her haunches in the passengers seat and stick her hear out the window. I guess she either wanted to feel like she was flying, or she just loved the feel of the wind in her mane. We grew closer still, and I took her more and more places. We saw movies, ate at fancy diners, and CC was able to find a small arcade from her wide view up in the sky. It even got to the point where we made love. It was awkward, of course, being a grown man and sleeping with a cartoon pony, but the way her bright violet eyes glistened in the candlelight and how she smiled at me with a delicate crimson-red face made it seem just a little too right. We were in love, and there was nothing either of us could do about it.

Unfortunately, while every cloud may have a silver lining, at that that accomplishes is the masking of the dark, grey gloomy area in the center, who's existence can only bring about rain and darkness. It was only a few days ago on a chilly, November morning when I came into work. There was an overall feeling of doom in the main hall, but I couldn't put my finger on it. As I approached the front desk, Trinity looked up from her paper and stared directly at me. Without breaking her gaze, she pulled a walkie-talkie from her belt and whispered something into the speaker. Suddenly, the alarm went off. The front doors were bolted shut and a group of men exploded from a closet door and grabbed me. I glared at Trinity in shock and confusion as I felt a heavy pair of cold, steel cuffs envelope my wrists. Scootaloo, who had managed to flutter atop the front desk, looked at me with dismay. "What the hell is going on?" I thought. "They.... They think you're insane." Tears streamed from her eyes as she looked down at the floor. "I heard them talking about it this morning. They said you had been acting strange. Remember when Hadrian took you shopping?" How did she know about that? "Well, they planted cameras in your house while you were gone. They've been watching you for about a month now. I tried to run and tell you but I just heard them talking about it ten minutes ago." She collapsed on the table and sobbed to herself, a small pool of invisible tears formed on the desk in front of her. "I'm sorry Chaals." Trinity glared at me with a sinister smile that was a dead giveaway that whatever she was feeling right now, definitely was NOT sorrow. "But you're insane. Clinical. We've been waaching you for a while now Chaals..." I struggled, but it was no use. They dragged me across the lobby rather carelessly, and I injured my ankle trying to get free. As they moved me, Scootaloo chased behind, panting and sobbing. An invisible orange Pegasus that no one else could see. Just like CC. An Invisible purple Pegasus. Everyone else had seen me roaming around my house, talking to something that wasn't there. Cooking for something that wasn't there. Sleeping with something that wasn't there. But she was there. I could see her. She was real. She existed, and all you had to do was look a little harder. 

I snapped out of my thought process and I heard the deadbolt on the iron door automatically slam closed behind me. Scootaloo was gone, and I was being led down the dark, stone staircase to the basement. They threw me in the only cell they had open; one I unfortunately recognized from the dark-red stain of dried blood in the middle of the floor. This was the cell where it all began. And will most likely be the cell where it will all end as well. 

At this point in my story. The time is now. You've read everything I have recalled from the past, and are now reading evens I record as they presently happen. I have been contained down here for almost a week now, which was plenty of time to write all of this down on the pen and paper generously provided by the nurse. I guess the hospitality here is a bit better now than when I was employed, rather than contained. As I have previously stated, I'm a mute, so I had no chance to plead my case. I know what happens to those who are insane for I have worked here for far to long. My week is up, and soon my time on this unforgiving earth will be as well. I have chipped my nails down to the bloody stumps peeling away at the mortar on a single stone, so I might have a place to put this tale. Alas, now I must go. My time here is up. I head the bolt clink and the footsteps grow louder. They're coming for me, like I came for him. Farewell, and I hope this reading provides an enlightening pastime for whomever shall be the next to suffer my fate.



When the guards approached the cell, they saw the patient leaning up against the far wall of the cell. "This is it?" Asked   the first doctor. "Oui" Replied the second. "This is Charleston." The name sounded familiar, thought the first guard, as he unlocked the cell door. Charleston stared him in the face. Shockingly unnerved to the point where the doctor believed he knew what was coming, and had made himself ready for it. Charleston stood up, and allowed the doctor to handcuff him without a fuss, and he was promptly lead out of the cell, and further down into the bowels of the Asylum. 

As they marched, Charleston face suddenly lit up, and he glanced toward the ground next to him, tears dripping from his eyes. Unbeknownst to the doctors, two Pegasai, one purple, and one orange, trotted beside them. Visible only to the mute psychopath, the Pegasai were crying as well, tears of sadness and despair, for they too knew the certain fate of Charleston. 

In the chamber room, was a large, wooden octagonal outline. There were four, leather straps, each one situated in the middle of one of the hollow shapes diagonals, in which Charlestons limbs were individually strapped. He did this without resistance, but the look on his face made It apparent that fear was slowly beginning to creep over his body. One of the doctors handed the other a hammer. This one was made entirely of metal and was much larger, and heavier than the one Charleston had used on his victim of identical circumstance. As the doctor reluctantly approached him, Charleston silently apologized to the two invisible equines. "You don't need to apologize to us." The purple one replied silently, "If anything, you should apologize to yourself for searching to hard." Charlestons expression changed from one of fear, to anxiety and confusion. "I'm sorry we got you into this mess." Said the orange one. "Me as well." replied the purple, as the two ponies slowly began to fade from Charleston's vision. "You never should have believed." The hammer was swung with brutal force directly at Charleston's left knee, which immediately caved in upon itself, folding his entire leg backwards at the joint. The two ponies vanished, as blood and shards of shattered bone cascaded from Charlestons leg to the cold, stone floor below. 

He shut his eyes tight and opened his mouth to scream. If it weren't for his dry, swollen larynx and dysfunctional voice box, the sound of his voice could have probably been heard throughout all of Cloudy Hills and the next three counties.




Four Weeks Later

"Hey Joel, get over here for a sec." Edmond had found something out of the ordinary. He hated his job, of course, cleaning up after dead patients was hard work. Anything remotely interesting that could momentarily distract him from his grim duties was more than he could ask for. In this case, it was a loose stone in the wall. He removed it just as Joel, a security guard, entered the room. Edmond removed a slightly large pile of folded, wrinkled papers from the hole the stone had left behind. "Whaddya suppose those ar'" Asked Joel inquisitively. "I dunno." Replied Edmond. "How about to take a look at them?" He held out the papers to Joel, who slowly took them from his hand and exited the cell, unfolding them curiously.

At the end of the work day, Edmond saw Joel walking out the door and ran to catch up with him. "So, what were those papers all about?" Edmond wanted to know. "Eh, I only skimmed em'". Replied Joel. Some lunatic goin' off about some colored horses and shit like that." He paused for a sec. "Ya know.... Crazy people stuff." Edmond paused for a moment. For some reason this sparked his interest. This just so happened to be the second recorded case of this 'pony coinsurance' at Cloudy Hills Asylum, and Edmond felt compelled to do some more research on this subject. Regardless off whether or not anything came up, at least it would give him something to do outside of his normally boring and mind-scarring routine. "Hey Joel, would you mind letting me have those?" He asked. "Sure thing buddy." Responded Joel. "Was was just gonna' throw em' out anyway." He handed the papers to Edmond who eyed them with a subtle hint of fascination. "May ah ask why?" Joel was curious. He'd never seen his friend look at something with such curiosity. "Well," Replied Edmond, "This is the second time this pony stuff has popped up around here and I figured I'd do a bit of digging and try to find out why." Joel scratched his head. "I guess that makes a bit ah sense. I mean, someones gotta' do it, right?" Edmond nodded, his eyes glued to the now unfolded page. "Good luck with your research then buddy." Said Joel encouragingly. "Thanks, man." Replied Edmond. He neatly folded the stack of papers, placed them in his coat pocket, and walked out the front door of the Asylum. He had a research project to complete.








Babylon in all its desolation is a sight not so awful as that of the human mind in ruins.

SCROPE BERDMORE DAVIES, May, 1835