On a Spree

Marshmallow Dreams is getting the majority of attention right now, as I work to push toward its end. It has been a work in progress for longer than I intended. Expect more steady updates.

In the meantime, here is some bonus content from an axed story. The editing in this is kind of iffy, but given the last few chapters if Marshmallow Dreams, it seems worth releasing this content, now that Marshmallow Dreams provides some context.

A baby crying; that was the first thing I was aware of. 

I opened my eyes and immediately brought an arm up to shield them against the glare of the sun. I was lying on my back, somewhere outside, and it felt like I was lying on a pile of jagged rocks. The crying continued somewhere close to me. 

After I turned my head, I lowered my arm. I was indeed laying on a pile of rocks, or at least, I was laying on a pile of smashed and broken concrete. I could hear the sounds of a stream or river, and I heard pops and cracks in the distance. I also continued to listen to the incessant crying of a child. Beyond that, I knew nothing about where I was, how I got there, and (most disturbing of all) I had no idea who I was either.

The crying was too much for me to ignore. I flipped my body over so I could better see the source. A mere meter from my head was a wicker basket with a handle on the edge of a riverbank. The wails were coming from within. Outside the basket was a worn and ragged human doll, made with what looked like brown sackcloth with black button eyes and a single black string for a mouth. It lay against the side of the basket as if deliberately placed there to be the first thing I'd see when looking in that direction. The basket itself was a simple wicker basket, worn and wet as if it had just come out of the river. The doll seemed perfectly dry in contrast. I, too, felt dry, and I wondered if I had placed the doll there.

Laying here wasn't accomplishing anything. I focused on pushing myself up into a sitting position. The rocks were hard on my hands, and I could feel them digging into my knees as my weight shifted. Once I was in a sitting position, I tried to stand up next. It took a little effort, but I managed it. Once I was standing, I was finally able to take stock of myself. 

My hands were pale as if they hadn't seen sunlight in years. They were also filthy and so thin I could make out the outlines of the bones within them. My arms were exposed and in the same condition as my hands. I was wearing a rough pair of pants, which had holes throughout them, plenty of dirt, and several stains that I was sure were blood. My shirt might have once been white, but it now resembled the color of mud and had even more rips and holes and even more bloodstains. 

Standing up also gave me my first honest look at my surroundings. I could see the other side of the riverbank, but it was a considerable distance to swim, especially if fighting the current. There didn't seem to be anything of interest on that side of the river anyway; the land was just an empty area, with light grass and mountains far in the distance. I assumed the river's source was somewhere in those mountains, and if I followed it upstream, it would curve towards them. I watched as pieces of odd-shaped debris were carried by the current, and I gasped as I realized one of those pieces was a mutilated human body. A few seconds later, another body could be seen being carried down the river, which had the unmistakable pastel-colored fur of a pony. 

I quickly turned away from the death-filled river, only to be greeted by more horror on my side of the riverbank. A few paces from where I had been lying was another pony's body, an earth pony, with a massive bloody hole on the side of his body. Flies buzzed about The body in a swarm. Further back in the distance, a building, perhaps an old farmhouse, burned, sending pillars of smoke into the air. In front of the burning building was what appeared to be, at first glance, a bonfire, but an agonizing second glance showed it to be a pile of burning bodies, both human and pony. An unexploded artillery shell was within dangerously close distance to the flame. The only sounds now we're the cracking of the fire and the never-ending ending cries of the baby. 

I ripped my gaze back to the wicker basket, as it was the only thing around that didn't hold any obvious horror. Standing up, I could see its occupant, a tiny orange pony foal with a yellow mane. I moved towards the basket, half stumbling from the weight of my surroundings. I bent down and looked more closely at the foal. The foal noticed me at this time and stared back at me as if trying to decide if my sudden presence was welcome or not. 

It seemed to be an earth pony colt. I saw no wings or horn, nor any crystalline quality to his fur. I assumed it was a colt, but the only way to confirm that for sure would be to pick him up and examine him. The colt still seemed to be deciding whether I was a friend or a monster, so I was not ready to unleash his screams on the world again by picking him up when he wasn't yet prepared for some stranger to do so. At least the crying had stopped. It had been an ear-sore, to begin with, but our surroundings indicated that it was not the best idea to draw attention to ourselves. Wherever we were, we were in a war zone, and we didn't even know who the sides were yet. 

Hoping to make some gesture to gain his trust, I looked for the doll that had been lying against the basket, but it didn't seem to be there. I shuffled around as I crouched and even looked underneath myself, but there was no sign of the weathered plaything. Where could it have gone to? It was just here, and it wasn't close enough to the river to have been caught in that, and there was no breeze to have blown it away. My search for it turned up nothing. It was like it had just gotten up and walked away. It had to have been real; there was no way I could imagine something like that in such detail. 

I turned back to my lone companion. "Please, keep quiet. I'm going to help you, but you have to keep quiet." I hoped my offer for help wasn't a lie, as I was unsure if I could even help myself yet. 

The colt kept silently staring at me, which wasn't crying. It clearly had yet to make up its mind if the strange human in front of it was friend or foe.  I decided to keep talking to him. "I don't know my name or yours. I don't suppose we need them yet. We do need to find food and shelter. Do you think you can be quiet for me? Please?"

No answer, but no crying. He seemed too young to give a verbal answer anyway. I don't know why I was acting like he would. I was going to have to carry his basket. He might be surging, and a surging earth pony colt could seriously injure me. I reached out to grab the basket, and the colt started to whimper as he watched my hand. "Hush," I whispered as I grabbed the handle on the basket. When he saw my hand wasn't going for him, his whimpering stopped.

The smell of burning flesh and fur was starting to get to me, and I could only imagine how bad it was for the colt with his more developed sense of smell. I held the basket at my side and tried to decide where to go. The mountains might provide the best chances of shelter, but the bodies floating downstream indicated that going in that direction likely led to more horrors. There was a dirt road that led away from where the house was, and now that I was looking beyond it, I saw other pillars of smoke in the distance. I looked downstream and saw even more smoke clouds rising in that direction. 

The only direction that seemed safer was on the other side of the river, but I had no way of crossing it here. There had to be a bridge or something somewhere, but I would have to follow the river to find it. There were patches of tall grass and small thickets of trees on this side of the river, so there were places to take cover. It was concerning that the other side of the river seemed barren of anything larger than a small bush. If we made it to the other side, there wouldn't be much cover to be found. That was a worry for later; with luck, the landscape on the other side changed further along the river. 

After a lot of internal debate, I decided to go upstream. There were fewer signs of fire in that direction, and both directions promised carnage. Moving towards the mountains might mean finding alternative sources of water from smaller streams. We were not going to be drinking water out of something with dead bodies floating in it. Maybe we would be viewed as non-threatening by whoever the combatants were, and they'd leave us be. I didn't think that was going to happen, but I tried to find small hopes. We needed any small hope we could find. 

I started walking, baby and basket in tow. Still unsure of anything and ignorant of even my name. I had just two things: a baby that I had no intention of letting die and my own will to survive. It was all the foundation I needed; the rest, including answers, could come later.

---

There were small bushes and tall grasses here and there near the riverbank, and I kept to them as much as I could. I had been traveling for hours, and aside from the colt, I had yet to encounter another living person. That could be a good thing, as I'd also not figured out who was trying to kill who in the conflict that we found ourselves surrounded by. There was also still no clear way to cross the river safely, even though I hoped by now we could have found a boat, bridge, or perhaps a shallow area. There were few more bodies seen in the river, including several that had washed up on the opposite bank, and one pony that had washed up on our side. I did my best to give the body as much space as possible when I passed it, after having made sure there were no saddlebags to search. 

For the first time in hours, I spotted a house, and this one wasn't in flames or complete ruin. I huddled near a bush, with the colt and his basket kept low. He had been largely quiet through the journey, only engaging in small amounts of baby babble here and there as we went. I knew that couldn't last, as he was bound to be getting hungry, and a hungry baby tended to get very vocal about its needs. Just because I hadn't spotted anyone as of yet didn't mean there weren't potentially people within earshot, and there was no telling if they would attack if they found us. Traveling on foot across unpaved areas while carrying him was also wearing down on my energy. We both needed food, and this house presented the first chance at finding some.

I watched it for several minutes, straining my eyes and ears for any sounds of activity. It was dead quiet. I didn't see any vehicles or signs of livestock. A dirt road curved away from the house towards a wooded area. It looked like a place that should have had some livestock since it had a fenced area that looked like it was used for small-scale grazing. There was a garden area with a variety of things growing in it, but I couldn't tell at a distance precisely what. The house looked to be some adobe brick that had been whitewashed. The door was ragged and had large enough chunks of it missing near the edges that rodents could easily get into the house. The windows slightly crooked squares that didn't seem to have any glass and had sheets of fabric hung up inside to cover them. There was a chimney that showed no smoke, despite the fact the temperature seemed to be dropping quickly as evening approached. No tools were lying about, but there was a small shack nearby that had the door wide open and appeared to be empty from where I sat.

It seemed abandoned, and I was going to risk trying to go in and try to scavenge for what I could. It didn't have a look of long neglect, which meant that its former occupants might have just recently left in a hurry, and in that hurry, they may have left something of use. Even that fabric that covered the windows might be of use for making a shelter or covering up through the night. I had a feeling that the nights would get very cold here. There was a slight temptation just to try to take shelter in the house for the night, but the house would be a magnet for others to investigate, and I didn't want to meet whoever else was out here just yet. 

I grabbed the handle of the colt's basket. I was going to have to give him a name at some point. I couldn't just keep calling him the colt, but I could figure that out later. I didn't want to leave him unattended, and his basket also served as my primary place to put anything I found. He might not enjoy sharing his space, but he'd have to live with it. Perhaps I could make a rough sack to sling over my shoulder if I found enough items. 

My attention turned to the colt, who looked back up at me in interest. "You just keep being good and not crying. I will try to find us some food and something to help keep us warm at night. Just don't cry, okay?"

The colt babbled and blew bubbles with his spit. I reached down and wiped his mouth with the dirty wool blanket that he was wrapped in. That elicited a small giggle from him. I had to admit, he was calm for a baby and seemed to have decided I was a friend. I'd name him later tonight. We just had to make it through our first day together. 

I moved as silently as I could towards the house, still listening carefully for any sounds of activity. I kept darting my eyes left and right, on edge that someone would suddenly step out into the open. It wasn't even wholly fear that some hostile soldier would be responsible for the death and destruction that pervaded the area. I had the intent of looting, which was a crime, and despite how unlikely it was, some part of my brain insisted that the house's owners were going to come walking up and catch me attempting to burglarize their home. Perhaps it was a sign that whoever I was, I had a conscience. Trying to save the colt might be a sign of that, but it took someone truly vile to abandon a baby to die. 

When I reached the door, I paused and listened again for any signs of life in the house. I was sure that whoever lived here must have fled, but I couldn't be sure. After a long few seconds debating it with myself, I decided to do something that might be stupid; I gently knocked on the door.

"Hello? Anyone here? I'm just looking for food. I don't know where I am or what's going on."

No answer came, and I took that as the house was abandoned. I didn't see anything resembling a lock on the door, so I pushed it open and crept inside, closing the door behind me. 

The house seemed to be one big room, sectioned off into small areas by large sheets of fabric that gave little areas of privacy. Light flustered in through the material covering the windows, and it was bright inside despite the coverings. The floors were dirt that had been packed and beaten down, and there weren't any signs of electrical items. A few wool rugs were placed about, and I wouldn't be surprised if they doubled as beds in some cases since I saw no mattresses anywhere. A large table seemed like it might serve as a work area, dinner prep area, and eating area all in one. Five chairs that were fashioned for humans surrounded the table. A fireplace took up a large portion of one wall, and a few shelves held assorted items and jars. On the table, there appeared the be the remains of some still in progress woodworking, along with a large sheet of paper that might be a newspaper. 

I immediately went over to investigate the paper, eager for any answers about where I was or what was going on. When I got a closer look, I lost hope in that. It was all print, without any pictures of any kind. It was divided on either side into two print sections, but neither side was intelligible to me. The left side looked like it was written in Russian script; at least, I was pretty sure it was Russian. The other side was written in a completely different script, perhaps Arabic or some Turkish script, but neither side was anything I could read. I didn't see anything resembling a date anywhere. I supposed that it still gave possible clues about where I was and racked my brain for where these two scripts might be commonly used together. Perhaps one of the various 'stans' of central Asia. I tried to think of anything I knew about them but came up empty. It seemed I had some education that I could draw upon, despite my lack of memory, but that education had its limits. 

The shelves were the next thing I checked. There was some light dust on the shelving, and I could tell that many items had been removed very recently, based on their outlines which showed lesser amounts of dust within. Mostly jars had been taken, although the impressions of what looked like a knife and a hammer had also been left behind, in addition to a few other prints that I couldn't decipher. The remaining items seemed to be leather straps, some brushes, and closed jars. I opened up one of the jars and sniffed, before resealing it. Whatever that was, it wasn't food. I checked the other pots and found similar results, with at least two jars I was sure were filled with paint. I guessed that this was where they kept supplied they used for crafting, and they had taken the essentials with them when they fled. I did find a few candles and a box of matches that had been shoved into the corner of one shelf, which may have led to it being overlooked. I took the candles and the matches and placed them on the table. I would gather everything that might be of use there and make my decisions on what I could afford to carry when I was done. 

I checked each of the areas that were sectioned off for privacy. One place had some simple wooden toys within; wooden cars, ponies, and people. There were some loose clothing in that area that would fit a child and seemed to be for a boy. The next place had not much in terms of non-essential items, but did have some more loose clothing, this time more suited for a girl. The final area had a small chest of drawers, and an investigation of them just found more clothes, some combs, a hairbrush, some rags, and a pair of scissors. A few articles of clothing seemed to be American-made since they advertised American products like Pepsi Cola, but they seemed pretty old and ragged. I took the scissors and placed them on the table. 

My investigation hadn't turned up as much as I would have liked. The candles, matches, and scissors would probably be helpful, and I grab one of those large wool rugs to carry things in and cover up with at night, but I was hoping for food. Food had probably been one of the items that the former occupants had been most keen on bringing with them when they left. 

I sighed and turned to go pick out a rug to make use of but went stiff as stone when I saw a doll sitting right in the middle of one of them. It was the exact same doll from earlier; I was sure of it. There was no way that an exact match for something so old and raggedy would just turn up here. Even more, I had already checked out that area, and the doll hadn't been there a moment before. 

I looked around the room. The door was still closed, and I was sure I would have noticed anyone entering it. None of the coverings for the windows seemed to have been disturbed. Yet someone had brought the doll in and set it down in here while I was checking the place out. I saw no shadow outlines behind any of the privacy areas. This didn't put me at ease; it only increased my tension. I put the basket down on the table and walked over towards the doll. 

It was the same doll. It had those same button eyes, the exact single string for a mouth, it wore the same dirty dress, and it looked like it might be well over a hundred years old based on the wear and fading. I cautiously reached down and picked it up. It was no hallucination; it was solid to the touch. I turned it over in my hands, and in the back of the doll, I saw a single word written out in Devanagari script in faded black paint, Chaaya. 

There was nothing else of note about the doll. I flipped it over several times in my hands and carefully squeezed it to feel if there was anything hidden inside, but there was nothing. I absently took a step forward, right onto the spot the doll had been laying, and I heard the creak of wood rather than the hard-packed dirt from everywhere else. I also heard a muffled gasp from below me. 

The house was still occupied.

My mind rushed as I tried to process what to do. There was clearly a basement or storage area under the rug, and it had at least one person down there. They were startled or scared when I stepped on the entrance, so that probably meant they weren't here for trouble. Chances were they were the actual owners of the house, but it could also just be another scavenger. The fact that the rub was over the entrance might indicate someone else had hidden them, but it could also mean that there was another entrance somewhere else to where they were, perhaps outside.

I didn't know if they were armed. Even if they weren't part of whoever was responsible for all this death and destruction that didn't mean they wouldn't try to shoot an intruder on sight, especially if they felt threatened. Everything that I had seen so far today told me they had every reason to be terrified of a strange person showing up at their house. Did that mean I should just leave? If I didn't try to face them they might just let me go with no trouble. I definitely didn't want trouble.

However, I also was desperate for answers about what was going on, and eager to see another living face. The colt, being a baby, wasn't exactly forthcoming with information. I needed to try to convince them I wasn't a threat, and get them to talk to me.

I walked back to the colt's basket, and placed the doll inside. The colt ignored the doll, but babbled up at me as I carefully laid it next to him. "You sit put. I'll be right back."

I then pulled the rug back from where it was on the floor. There was a square wooden panel on the floor, on hinges to let it be pulled back. There was no sign of any sort of locking mechanism, and there was just enough space between the boards of the panel to let some light trickle down to whatever was below. I also heard some additional movement and gasps as the panel was revealed. 

"Hello? Can you hear me? I'm just looking for food and news. I didn't think anyone was here. Can we talk?"

There was no answer, but I heard a tiny amount of movement still. If there was another entrance they didn't seem to be making for it. That all but confirmed this was the only entrance, and that someone outside had made an effort to hide them. I wondered how long they had been down there, and how they were getting air if the entrance had been covered. Perhaps air was still seeping through under the rug, or maybe there was an air vent or something. 

It might be foolish, but I was going to try to talk to whoever was down there. 

I reached down to the edge of the panel, and carefully lifted it up. There was a short wooden ladder that allowed passage in and out of the area. The light down below was dim, perhaps candlelight, but it was enough for me to make out the great big knife that was pointed straight at me. On the other end of that knife was a human woman. She was wrapped in a pink and tan garment that covered her head to toe, with only her face and hands exposed. She had slightly tanned skin, and dark eyes. Her hair was completely covered by her garment, but I imagined it was dark as well. Beside her a young girl, similar in appearance and dress, huddled close to the woman, and stared up at me fearfully. The knife looked like something used for butchering animals, and the woman held it with both hands, shakingly. 

I pushed the panel away, so the entrance was fully open, and held up both hands to show I was unarmed. "Hello? I'm not here to hurt you. We were just looking for food."

The woman said something in a quivering voice, but the language was completely foreign to me. I decided to switch up, and speak to her in English instead of Marathi. "Can you understand me? I'm just looking for food."

She stopped shaking as much, and gave me a puzzled expression, but didn't lower the knife. She then said something else, and although I could tell it was another language than the one she used before (perhaps Russian) I couldn't tell what she was saying either. I tried one more time, this time in Hindi. "Food?"

There was no sign of recognition. It was clear she didn't didn't understand the word. We were both fluent in more than one language, but we didn't know any of the languages the other knew. 

It was time to try another approach. I opened my mouth and made a gesture like putting something in it. "Food. Do you understand?" The woman didn't reply, she just kept standing there holding her weapon in my direction. Okay, I wasn't giving up quite yet. 

I backed away from the caller door, and went over to the colt and his basket. When I reached it I noticed that the doll was gone. A quick glance around the floor and the table revealed no signs of it. I turned back to the colt, who was looking at me expectantly. I reverted back to Marathi as I spoke to him."What did you do with the doll? It was right here?" 

The colt didn't give a replay, but he swung his legs about as babies sometimes do. This was my second time coming across that doll, only to have it up and vanish into thin air both times. I had picked the thing up and felt it, so it couldn't be a figment of my imagination. Was the thing haunted, and really getting up and walking away on its own? It didn't matter. I wasn't here for the doll. I was here for the colt.

"If you're surging, please don't kick me. I'm going to pick you up. The people below might be more open if they see I need food for you. You want to get food, right?" 

The colt just scrunched up his face, with an expression that forewarned an upcoming temper tantrum. I could deal with a temper tantrum, although I didn't want the extra noise. Hopefully I could calm him quickly, as he had been generally quiet to this point. I was more concerned about him bucking me and breaking my ribs.

I reached into the basket, and wrapped my hands around his sides. He was still doing his random flailing with his legs, and now he was doing the whimpering that came before the outbreak of tears. He started to cry as I lifted him up. I quickly pulled him close to me, and no sooner than when he had touched my chest, I felt a wet drizzle going down it. I pulled him back, and he continued to spray me with his urine. This was definitely a colt, as I could see the source of the yellow stream. He quickly added a rain of crap from his rear end, that plopped all over the floor as he went. 

"Have you been holding that the whole time so you wouldn't go in your bed?!" I asked in disbelief. The colt looked at me, no longer seeming so upset. That had been the source of his current distress. He needed to relieve himself. "These people might not like that you pissed and crapped all over their floor, but at least you didn't do it in your blankets. I'm not able to properly clean them. Come on, let's see if you can buy us some sympathy."

I walked back to the opening in the floor, making as much noise as I could so they knew I was returning. When I looked down the woman was still there, and still holding that knife flat me. This time I held the colt with one arm against me, and made a gesture with my hand indicating putting food in my mouth. I then turned the colt towards her, and made a gesture of putting food in his mouth. He didn't seem to appreciate my fingers being put up to his muzzle like that, and let off an irritable squeal. 

The woman stared at us for a few seconds, or more correctly, stared at the colt. The colt noticed he was being watched, and chartered at the new person, blissfully unaware that the new person was holding a weapon threateningly towards us. The woman continued to watch him, then glanced down at her daughter. She leaned down to whisper something to her daughter, all the while still holding the knife in our direction and never taking her eyes off us. The girl nodded to whatever the woman whispered, and darted off to somewhere out of my field of vision. She was only gone a few seconds before returning with a jar of something, along with what looked like a pair of sugar beets. The woman took one hand off the knife in order to take the jar, and bent down to give her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. She then passed the knife to her daughter, and took the vegetables in return. She placed the beets into the folds of her garment, then took a deep breath, and then placed her free hand on the ladder that led up to me. 

The daughter took up the position her mother had previously held, and the knife was shaking even more in her grip than it had been in her parent's. The woman carefully made her way up the ladder, using just one hand while carrying the jar in the other. I stepped away from the portal above in order to give her space. 

When she climbed out of the cellar she took a quick look around. Her eyes lingered for a moment at the things I had been gathering on the table next to the colt's basket, no doubt aware I was looting her house. She then sniffed and looked down at the newly made pile of crap on the floor, before looking up and making an angry gesture at me. I shook my head and took a step back, pointing at the colt in my arm. The colt gave an excited babble in response to this, not realizing he'd made an offensive mess. 

She shook her head, then walked quickly over to one of the windows. She lifted up the fabric just enough to peak outside, and spent several seconds checking out our surroundings before turning back to us. She then pointed two fingers at us.

I gestured to the colt and myself. "It's just the two of us. No one else."

I knew she couldn't understand my words, but she seemed to get the idea, since her posture relaxed a little more. She hurried over to the table and placed the jar and beets next to the rest of the items, before backing away from them. 

"Aylin," she said, putting a hand over her chest. She then pointed her fingers at us, and I assumed she asked a question by her tone.

We didn't have names for me to give her. I'd been planning on naming the colt soon, and now was as good a time as any to come up with something. "Moses," I said, answering in English as I pointed at the colt. I'd found him in a basket that came from the river, so it seemed an appropriate name. I then pointed at myself and shook my head. "I don't know."

She pointed at herself. "Aylin." She then pointed at the colt. "Mozez." Then she pointed at me. "Ayedonno."

Sure, I guessed that was something for her to call me. I wasn't going to go claiming that as a name, but it worked for communication right now. She then pointed at the cellar entrance. "Rayana."

The girl must have assumed she was being called, as I heard her scurrying up the ladder. She immediately got into a defensive position when she reached the surface. I was getting really tired of having that knife aimed at me, but I supposed it was better than having it rammed into me. Now to figure out how to get answers without knowing a word of their languages.

Comments

[Kek lel]

Yea ive been seein all the new updates and im gettin excited. Love the story :)

[PonyofEntropy]

That was interesting! Very good.