Short Story Corner, Part I · 2:38am Mar 8th, 2013
This was originally written as a challenge to subvert the 'dark and stormy night' of Bulwer-Lyddon fame. I think I found the core for a new story, for future use. Enjoy, but be warned, it is rather dark.
It was a bleak and unforgiving sunrise in Bridleton, much like the one before, and the one before that. Celestia's sun did not so much shine, here, as stare balefully at the residents of the too-quiet town.
The streets were commonly empty at all hours, save for the rare ponies that darted to and fro, furtively glancing over their shoulders at anyone who might be watching.
And someone always was.
Neighbor watched neighbor, employer watched employee, friend watched friend, all looking for the sign, the mark of the Unclean.
Too often, that mark was found. And then, the city stirred. Like a disturbed nest, the ponies would assemble and demand justice, which invariably meant four things:
The Unclean pony would die by drowning.
The rest of the ponies would wait until sundown.
The moon would rise.
And the ponies would return to their homes to wait once more.
I had been sent to investigate a disappearance, weeks ago, and was fortunate enough to have the foresight to stop outside the town, and observe.
That's when I realized the problem. Observing the town, I was treated to the execution of a colt who had, apparently, committed a crime.
He went under, tied to a boom, and they kept him there for ten minutes. Then someone pulled a rope, and released his lifeless body to float downstream.
One by one, they began singing, a song of remorse and fear, of hope and worship, to the Daughter of the Night. For what, I could not guess.
And then, their prayers unanswered, they filtered away to their homes.
And that's when I noticed it.
As each pony passed my vantage point, I noticed their flanks. Stallion, mare, colt, and filly alike, all had identical, unremarkable flanks.
You see, nobody who lives in the town had a cutie mark.
I struggled to recall if the drowned colt had one. I could not remember.
And so, I waited.
Night came in earnest, and a few days passed. That's when I saw it with my own eyes. A young filly, out to play, was bouncing a ball - counting her attempts, one by one - until she reached a remarkable sum of two hundred.
There was a shimmer, and a change... and she screamed in terror. She had earned her mark: a red rubber ball.
That is the mark of the unclean. That is why they drown their own.
She was taken to trial. She's there now, waiting in chains.
I need to put a stop to it.
I need to save her.
I've put some talc over my own mark, to disguise it, but the ruse will not last long. They will notice me. They will try to capture me.
And yet, I must take the chance.
I'm going to regret this.
So basically it's the backstory to "Story of the Blanks?"
I AM GIVING YOU A VIEW
I feel like I've read this somewhere. <.< Also, KILLING ME WON'T BRING BACK YOUR GODDAMN CUTIE MARKS :V
898633
No, not directly related, and honestly, that story had not occurred to me when I wrote this. Your question does bring up interesting parallels, however, worth investigating.
898649
You have. But since FIMFic saw it unfit to allow me to put short bits together in a single 'story' post I'm collecting them in blogs.
It sounds like it has the same tone as this fic:
Beyond the Wall
That was pretty solid. Sounds like something you could easily expand on and make a decently long story out of.
898725
Ah. I've done similar.
All you have to do, really, is write something that's 1k+, post it, and then change everything into a compilation once it's accepted. :V
the blanks have stories, but only 1. ain't that stupid?