Coming to a Fimfic Near You · 12:47am
The walls mock me.
They leer and laugh and howl at my misery, my being, my soul.
I know exactly what you’re thinking- I’m crazy. Insane. Off my rocker. And you know what? You’d be correct. But it isn’t as if I haven’t been told.
Do you want to know why I’m here?
Of course you do.
My mind is why I’m here. Or lack of.
I’ve been within these accursed walls for at least fifteen years. I say “at least” because the lines I etched into my little corner of hell have long since faded away. Perhaps it was time, or perhaps the guards filled them in with plaster.
The guards. Oh, the guards. If the Lunacy Asylum for Impaired Ponies is my death sentence, they are the harbingers. All ten of them have the same mane-cut- a single slice of hair that dangles in front of their eyes, much like a shy foal’s- and the same stubby tails. In all other aspects, though, they’re completely different. Most of them have eyes as solid as stone and stances as still as a statue. They’re the ones who treat me like a simple pet- “Sit! Stay!”- or a soulless husk of the mare I once was.
Heh. Maybe those idiots are correct.
A select few have touches that are as gentle as pegasus down, and eyes that radiate both passion and compassion. I count my blessings when one of those two or three guards escort me to my next appointment, or are selected to watch me for the day. Sometimes I have these thick, magical, beautiful dreams where they massage my aching wings and repeat the words “everything will be just fine. Everything will be just fine.”
But it won’t. I wake up, take a swift check of my surroundings, then cry. But honestly, I like the tears.
I just don’t like the pain.
So, productivity is a thing.
I knew that.