Not Really a WriteOff

In my spare time, I wrote a random minific with the prompt, "Funny You Should Mention That." It's obviously not polished enough to publish and there are flubs here and there, but I decided to leave it here, editing it from time to time until it's possible deletion to use in an actual story. It's currently untitled.

Dirt.

Rocks.

Darkness.

That was all that was before him when he finally climbed out of that abysmal hole, still clutching the jagged femur. His back ached, his hooves were sore, and through his weak vision, he spotted a faint glittering on the walls. It was a mining cave, he realized.

And he wasn’t alone.

He smelled them before he heard them, a thick stench of wet socks, rotten fish, and cobwebs mixed with mud. He could hear the barking of orders, paws padding against the ground, not unlike a gallop, but softer, swifter, more focused. Searching.

He was sure they could smell him too.

They arrived in a pack, dogs clawing through the dirt walls, making holes in their wake. They circled him one by one, their nostrils flaring, sniffing him

He was not fearful, though he strengthened the grip on the bone.

“You! Pony?” One dog replied.

“You don’t smell like a pony,” another dog said. In the dark they were indistinguishable.

“Yeah!”

“I have been lost here for a very long time,” he said.

“Did you come from the hole?”

“No,” he lied.

“We’ve never seen you before!”

“I have been trapped in the walls, in these tunnels, for a long time. Though you have not seen me, here I have always been.”

“We don’t like ponies. If you came from the hole, you need to go back.”

“You claim that I came from the hole, but I assure you I did not. Do you think these legs of mine can jump this high?”

“Well, no…” He watched the dogs, these magic-less mutts, and thought them simply stupid creatures. They seemed unsure of whether to trust or believe him. The dog shifted to look at his comrades for support; they lifted their hind legs and scratched their ears, saying nothing except with their eyes which flit back and forth between the pack.

“I require your assistance. I want to get out of here.”

When he first fell into the hole, he wondered how to scale the walls. The cave he was trapped in was a massive dome with acres and acres of open space and mountainous rocky hills. But the hole in the ceiling was comparable to the small grounded pony towns and Cloudsdale up above. Scaling those walls first, then reaching the middle of the “ceiling” where the massive hole situated, and finally going up the hole would be a massive undertaking. And with nothing else to do, he wondered, pondered, questioned. If only he had tools. Rocks could be made into tools, but they weren’t enough. If only he had wings, but no, he was not an infernal griffon or even a Pegasus. If only…If only he had magic.

With patience came an opportunity. In his stay, he had found a dog bone, a buried femur. He supposed the other skeletal parts were scattered around elsewhere, but he never found them. Like an ice pick, he plowed it into the sturdy earth and scaled upwards ever so slowly.

Up and up.

“Are you sure you didn’t come from the hole?”

“I did not,” he said again.

Up and up.

“Maybe we should ask—”

He bludgeoned the dog’s skull. The pack sprung, but he was stronger than these insufferable mutts creatures and much taller than the average pony.

After walking for a few days, he finally saw it: Light.

He slowly stepped out of the cave, and felt the sun first touch his hooves, then his torso, then his head.

He didn’t realize he was crying.

***

The tavern wasn’t empty when he entered; two black-cloaked ponies sat at the bar, complaining about some trouble, their eyes stoic, their mouths scrunched up. The bartender wasn’t present.

It was perfect.

“I d’serve that promotion! Wasn’t fair that the captain gave it to Left Hook ‘nstead of me!”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, now that the Elements o’ Harmony are always savin’ Equestria, they’re basically doing all the work. How in Tartarus am I s’pposed to get up
the ladder now?”

He walked towards them.

“Oh? What’s this I here? You desire instability?” he said.

“Buzz off ya old pony!”

“I assure you, I am no pony,”

“Oh get a—Wait. You’re not a pony!”

He smiled; he felt his eyes turn green.

“No. I can assure you... I am no pony. I am Lord Tirek. And I’ll take what is mine!”

Then his mouth opened.

Constructive criticism is welcomed.