Data Log – Sunday, February 18th, One year after ‘incident’
Subject Number 0718 has failed to complete rehabilitation efforts. Experimental magical procedures recommended for continued observation and testing. 0718 will undergo extensive magically induced cerebral probe at the request of the Warden.
Desired Results: A true and personal account of the events of the previous year.
Possible Side Effects: memory damage, extreme emotional distress, paranoia, delusion, hallucinations, mental confusion, and increase risk to herself and others.
All possible side effects have been taken into consideration.
The procedure will commence on schedule.
~*~*~*~
Screaming. Sweet Celestia, I cannot stand screaming. At least not when it’s obnoxious, nasty, little foals who don’t understand the concept of respect and knowing one’s place. That little brat… he knew exactly how to get under my skin. The never-ending complaining and incessant crying; his perpetual objections to just the simplest of chores, responsibilities, or anything for that matter grated on my nerves. It was no wonder his mother left him and his father. No mare would have enough patience to handle this tiny, insignificant urchin.
Looking back, I really should have been a little more selective when it came to stallions and their children. Granted, I needed a stallion who was mold-able; one who would bend over backwards to please me, love me, but the foal… that damn colt. He was a daddy’s foal before I entered the picture and convincing him would be near impossible. This child was just incorrigible. The overcompensation of a single parent can ruin even the best of children.
Even with this spineless stallion and his insufferable hellspawn of a child, I still found them useable. They were only just a means to an end. Playing this little role of family, blending myself into this little backwater town, just to finally find her... my little bird. I was so devastated when she left me. Waking up in the middle of the night, her side of the bed completely bare of her presence; my patience running extremely thin as I searched endlessly for her. I would search for her until my hooves were nothing more than bloody pulpy stumps, until I found the selfish whore.
If she hadn’t forced me to track her down, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I mean really, a stallion? The very thought is laughable to even the most seasoned of filly foolers. No stallion would ever be able to tame me, but I needed time. With this shattered shambles of a family, I could have all the time in the world. I could play this card of the perfect little housemare for as long as it took. All that mattered to me was how I could make my little bird fly back to the nest and ensure that she never leaves again. Besides, we all know that a stallion and a foal was the only logical cover. It’s the only way a mare can be taken seriously these days, especially being so far away from home. It’s sad too, considering the drop in quality of life here. How in Equestria could she even think this was a suitable living situation? The simpleton common life was a miserable affront to everything we had back in Canterlot.
How could she want this life? Nopony knew who she was here! In Canterlot, she at least had her status as my wife! All she had to do was remain at home, write her meager, meaningless stories, and just be my wife, all the while I worked endlessly for us at the ink manufacturing site. It was as though she had forgotten who I was: I am Ink Dye, and it is my royal duty to produce the ink for the Equestrian Royalty. Producing the magically-laced ink is no simple feat, especially for an earth pony such as myself, so for her to completely disregard all of my hard work…the notion itself is just insulting to everything we’ve built together.
It’s alright though. I am a forgiving and graceful mare. She should be grateful that somepony like myself would even want to love her.
Regardless, if it wasn’t for the fact that I was trying to take back what was rightfully mine, this town would know exactly who I was, but I have to keep this stallion underhoof, and thus far it has proven easy. He’s a deluded fool, but his colt… he’s been a completely different story. Half the time, I’ve had to cater to him just to get him to go to bed at night, and this particular night was no exception. A soothing, straightforward bath was all I had to do to complete tonight while his father was out having a Stallion’s night out with his friends. It would have been perfect too. The bane of my existence would have slept while I worked and his father would be none the wiser, but no, bathtime was relatively on par with pulling his teeth.
I grabbed the end bit of his tail with my mouth and yanked as hard as I could towards the bathroom. “Quit your thrashing! Do you have to make every bath a struggle?” I grumbled.
The colt looked up at me with wide eyes and a devious grin. He knew what he was doing, the little punk.
“I want a story!” He whined, trying to pull away.
I yanked harder, biting down even tighter. “It’s past your bedtime. Stop pestering and let’s just get this over with.”
“But I want a story!” he demanded again. Finally reaching the edge of the tub, I jerked back, flinging his slim body into the water. The splashback hit me in the face. I could hear him chuckling as he caught a glimpse of the look on my face. As much as I would have loved to take my hoof to him, the short time I had with my little bird taught me how long lighter coats stain with blood and bruises.
Patience, Ink…Remember why you are here... Remember that he is beneath you. They all are.
I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. “Will you stop fighting me if I tell you a story?” I said slowly, trying to read the child’s face. The colt looked up at me, his eyes brightly lit in the dim light of the bathroom. The eager naivety of a child, it’s enough to make any respectable pony gag in disdain. He nodded fervently, finally settling into the water. I begrudgingly grabbed the shampoo bottle and poured a generous amount onto the child’s head. Using my hooves, I began to work the goop into his mane, creating a bubbly froth atop his head.
I cleared my throat, irritated by the very thought of having to indulge this wretched child, and began: “Once upon a time… there was... a little pink bird. Now, this little bird had no one to love it. Who could ever love a pink, little bird who was different from the other birds around her?”
“She wasn’t loved because she was pink?” The colt asked, annoyed by the premise.
“It was because she stuck out like a sore hoof, all the other birds had plain boring feathers and simple looking beaks. Her bright colors made her such an easy target, especially when she lived with her family in the city of clouds. A pink bird against that white and blue sky; it was no wonder why no bird liked her. Unable to really belong with the other birds in the clouds, she decided that she was finally going to leave her home in the sky, since it was no place for a bird such as herself. However, she had nowhere to go.”
“This pink bird doesn’t sound too smart…” He tried to avert his gaze to me, but I kneaded into his scalp harder.
“Oh, she wasn’t. She was quite stupid, leaving her family with nothing to her name, alone and miserable. That was until she met a kind, noble Gray Jay bird who took pity on the pink, little bird.”
“Gray jay?” He interrupted. “There are birds called gray jays? I don’t believe you.”
“Yes, gray jays do exist. You’re the one who wanted this story.” I hissed. He sighed, but settled back in.
I continued, “This Gray Jay took the little, pink bird in and gave her everything she could ever want: a home, a future, and even love - the one thing she never really had, even from her own family. The Gray Jay gave and gave and gave and never once asked for much in return, except for the little pink bird to follow a few simple rules. It seemed easy enough, but do you know what that little pink bird did?”
“No…” The colt answered, mockingly.
“She broke those rules. She broke the rules all the time just to spite the Gray Jay. She even rejected the Gray Jay’s love, even after the Gray Jay had given up everything just for her. It was then that the Gray Jay realized the true colors of that little pink bird. She was an atrocious shade of red, black, and blue; spoiled, ungrateful, and selfish to the core. She had the audacity to blame the Gray Jay for trying to give them a better life, but you see, that little pink bird didn’t understand how the world really worked. It doesn’t matter how hard-working you are, everything can come crumbling down at a moment’s notice, especially when the little pink bird was just so different compared to everyone else. That’s why the Gray Jay had to be harsh to the pink bird. It was to make her a much better bird than she could ever be. She would finally understand how much hard work and love the Gray Jay had for the little, pink bird.”
“I don’t like this story... I don’t like birds.” the colt retorted.
“However, one day when the Gray Jay came home from a long, tiring day at work, she... didn’t find the little pink bird in their nest. She looked everywhere for her: other bird’s nests, the nearby trees, and almost the entirety of the forest. She searched high and low for her little bird, but it wasn’t until the Gray Jay stumbled upon a dingy, dirty, decrepit town that only uncouth, crass, horrible pon-- I mean birds lived, that she found the little pink bird… Her little, pink bird… nesting with another bird, without a single ounce of remorse for what she had done.”
“Ow… you’re hurting me!” The colt whined. I was scrubbing the filth off his coat; it wasn’t going to get clean with a gentle hoof.
“All of the potential that the Gray Jay had nurtured… that pink little bird had shared it with this ugly, boring, blood red bird. It made a complete mockery of everything the Gray Jay had worked for and it made her very, very, very mad. So much so that the Gray Jay decided she needed to get the little pink bird back. It was only fair since the Gray Jay gave so much of herself… The little pink bird owed the Gray Jay. Magpie belonged to--”
“Magpie? OW!” the colt tried to glance up, but I just pressed my hooves harder into his scalp.
“The little pink bird belonged with the Gray Jay. Everything would be right in the world if a little tiny bird could just learn her lesson. It’s what’s fair. It’s what’s right!”
“STOP IT!” the colt cried, splashing me with soapy water so violently it soaked my coat. “You SUCK at telling stories!”
I could feel the corner of my mouth curl up. I wanted to retaliate, show this tiny affliction his place. My patience was beginning to wane. I was about to retort my disdain at his ungratefulness, when he continued: “ Why can’t you just tell a GOOD story? Curse Word’s crappy story from today was still better than this shit! ” He shouted at me, violently thrashing in the water, getting the entirety of the bathroom soaked in the dirty bath water.
I can’t exactly say what came over me at that moment. That little beast of burden wouldn’t stop, he continued ranting and raving about how much my story wasn’t not up to par with… Curse Word’s. It wasn’t like that was my special talent anyways. I was an ink supplier, not some simpleton housewife taking care of this dreadful, impudent foal! Not a pathetic story teller who some how made a living with such an undignified, sordid career! It was not my job to tell him any kind of stories; it was my job to just give him this godforsaken bath!
I grabbed the bar of soap as the lump in my throat began to rise to the top. I was always so careful to never leave a mark on the devil, but for once, I couldn’t help myself. I was furious, overwhelmed… Crimson red envenomed my vision as I snatched him by the ear. His screams bounced off the tile walls of the bathroom as I forced that bar of soap down his little fragile throat. The foamy fizz bubbled up from the corners of his mouth as I held my hoof over his ‘precious,’ little snout. I glanced up at our reflection in the bathroom mirror in the distance: the perfect image of a powerful mother and her obedient son; his eyes widened as he struggled to try and free himself from my grasp, but I just clenched his face tighter, refusing to budge. Bathwater dripped down the reflection as my crimson red eyes shined back at me.
Red… what is…
I shook my head, shutting my eyes for a brief moment. The mere thought of seeing red in my irises was absurd. I immediately opened my eyes and looked back at my reflection, hoping to catch a glimpse of red, but only my yellow, golden eyes glinted back. I glared at myself for a moment, trying to make sense of what I had seen. Were my eyes really red in that moment? It seemed silly, maybe it was my mind playing the casual trick on me, considering how engrossed I was in… the other matter at hoof.
Oh, had I waited so long to finally do this… this! All those times where he refused to listen, where he completely disregarded me as a his caregiver. No pony ever disrespected me as much as this spawn, and I was finally going to show him why. Within the framed mirror, I watched his pin pricked eyes fill up to the brim with tears as I shoved him face first into the tub. The utter satisfaction of watching him thrash and splash about in the water, beating his hooves against the porcelain, trying to defy me. My hooves only stayed in place over his head as seconds passed and his movements began to slow ever so slightly. I have to commend him; he definitely was a resilient foal.
Eventually, the waves in the tub came to a slow and steady stop. I peered back at the water and lifted my hooves off of his head, shaking the excess water from them. There he lay, now this lifeless foal, floating in the serene bathwater. Finally. Finally, the house was silent from his endless bickering. I didn’t have to slave over this ungrateful waste of space. I’m not sure what I expected to feel at that moment. I’ve been told you’re supposed to feel regret or remorse in situations like this, but like any like minded pony, a prideful sense of liberation washed right over me. No amount of payoff was worth mothering that foal, and if questioned, I could always pretend it was an accident. No pony in their right mind would question a grief-stricken mother in matters such as these.
For once since coming to this wretched town, I could focus on myself and work on getting back my little bird again. I shut my eyes and smiled quietly to myself at the thought. She would be mine again, and love only me: her one, true love. I would be able to touch her, breathe her in again, and finally be one with her once and for all. Nothing was going to stop me from this, not even that lifeless form now drifting in the tub.
Soon, Magpie. I WILL find you. I prom-
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
My head snapped around to see her, as if my malice had summoned her to witness just how powerful my hatred can be. She stood there, her mouth agape. I could tell she was trying to process what she was actually viewing before her eyes.
Her deep crimson eyes that shined like blood... in the moonlight.
It was then, at that exact moment, that an innate cognizance washed over me. Those brief instances when you know something is so true, you’re not sure why or how, but you know it to be real like a simple fact, like how the sky is blue, or water is wet, or pain makes you stronger.
That shrew of a mare! This was all her doing. She caused all of this. The death of that colt, Magpie leaving, me having to put on this fake charade just so I can try to get my Magpie back. I will blame that mare with every fiber of my being, and I will ruin and bury her if it is the last fucking thing that I do!
My body began to move on its own, lunging itself towards her. Garbled words began to vomit from my mouth and throw themselves at her. Her eyes widened as she realized what I was doing. I wanted to snuff the ever living life out of her like I did with that child.
As my hooves were about to wrap themselves around her little, brittle neck, she dared to rear up on her hind legs.
CRACK!
My eyes shut as the cold, wet floor met my face.
I may have underestimated Curse Word.
That won’t happen again.
~*~*~*~*~
Data Log - Monday, February 19th
Subject Number 0718 reacted extremely favorably to hypnosis experiment and detailed the events of the previous year from her own recollection, though the information provided does not correlate to the information needed to further the investigation, so all information going forward will still remain fictitious until verified.
Once the experiment concluded, 0718 became physically violent and needed to be restrained and sedated.
Unable to assess if it was a side effect of the experiment.
SIDE NOTE: 0718 has become more volatile and extremely aggressive towards other patients and staff, almost cracking open the skull of one of the prison guards on duty. It is in my professional opinion that 0718 not be rehabilitated and moved as a permanent candidate for further aggressive magical testing. 0718 has already shown positive results with almost all magical testing that has been performed on her, except the Augmented Cutie Mark Procedure, or the ACMP.
0718 has rejected any magical dosage of the CM enhancers provided in ACMP. In fact, various parts of her body are beginning to ooze a black substance, i.e. eyes, ears, limbs, and already existing wounds.
Requesting for further tests of the black substance and a biopsy for the black welts forming on either side of the ribcage.
Once 0718 is approved for testing, subject is to be declared “deceased” and tests are to be recorded on the classified terminals located in the research facility. It is my hope that magical rehabilitation efforts will be perfected using 0718 so that future subjects will not be resigned to the same fate.
All data regarding Subject 0718 is to be redacted upon her death.
~*~*~*~*~
“... I did it. I really… did it…” Magpie sat alone in the darkness, clutching her hooves around the little single blue flame. She watched the flame flicker gently as the realization finally surfaced.
This was it. It was the final piece of the puzzle. All those years of luring helpless, defenseless ponies to what they thought was a better plane of existence, only for them to be swindled out of everlasting life by such a deceitful, two-faced mare. One would be lying if the guilt didn’t seem to rise to the back of her mind every time she did that, but in this moment, none of that mattered. She was finally going to able to right all the wrongs, mend all the broken pieces, and restore that mare she loved more than anything.
Magpie slowly got up, grasping the soul in her magic, and began to make her way to the rendezvous point. The one where he had appeared all those years ago. Just a simple voice, telling her that she could atone for all her wrongdoings if she followed his instructions precisely. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over her as she continued to walk away, humming to herself, knowing that this was all going to be over. She would finally leave this darkness and everything would be sunshine and rainbows.
Soon, she would be one with the true love of her life.
The one who is the beginning, the middle, and the end.
The one who will keep her little bird safe, no matter what.