“I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Thinking back on his actions, they were more than right to be afraid.
A stranger in the darkness, peering through their window? Any normal pony would run for the guard. The shouting, the chasing, he should’ve known it would come eventually. Such behavior followed him everywhere he went. Chased by misery and revulsion in every town, on every byway, what is it that makes the ponies who walk the streets look on him with nothing but hate.
For once he wished they would only look on him with pity, or ignore him entirely. Let him seek shelter beneath some overhang, warmed by the light of a torch or even a candle. To be kept out of rain, away from the howling winds and roaring thunder that were his only accompaniment in the night.
While the ponies who walked abroad in the light of day seemed to hate him with a passion that burned brighter than any morning star, the animals and creatures of the wood looked upon him only with curiosity. Squirrels would climb on his back and ride him like a bus, birds would stop and rest on his head, timberwolves appeared not to see him at all. It was as though the animals of the forests knew more kindness than the animals who lived in houses and called themselves ‘civilized’.
The creature limped on his hoof, the bleeding having stopped some time ago, and finally decided to rest. He followed the routine he had made for himself after he was attacked in his sleep by some madmare with an extravagant carriage and a funny hat. Something about ‘taming a beast’ she said. The creature had since learned how to hide himself when he slept.
The creature began by digging a hole big enough for him to fit in. He slept curled into a ball, so the hole didn’t have to be that big. He would fill the bottom with small, leafy branches to keep his body off the cold earth, then cover himself with moss and leaves. To any passerby he was just some lump of earth by the base of a tree. The creature’s body was certainly solid enough to be mistaken for a stone or root, so being walked over was no concern of his. Covered by moss, hidden by earth, he slipped from the world into blissful sleep.
Princess Luna was aware of one thing when it came to her nightly duties. Everyone dreams of something. Creative or mundane, joyful or terrifying. Everyone dreams of something. She saw each and every one, like a library of snowglobes dancing in a void. It was this knowledge of dreams that drew her to one orb in particular.
The orb was rough, cracked, held together by hope alone. Inside appeared to be a lone stallion on his side, sleeping in a void. No rainbows or dancing skeletons with bananas for eyes like all the other dreamers, just sleep. Sleep and nothing more.
This, to Luna, was somewhat worrying. As the princess of dreams it was her duty to “fix” dreams, and grant her subjects a peaceful night’s rest. While she couldn’t exactly say his rest wasn’t peaceful, it still seemed to hold her curiosity. Even if what she was looking at was a dream, it was a dream of nothing. Princess Luna decided it would at least be interesting to pay a visit to this dream.
The creature’s ear flicked toward the sound of hooves approaching. This was nothing unusual, ponies strolled back and forth about him every day. All he had to do was remain still, and the stranger would pass without noticing him.
“Hello there.”
Hm. Must be more than one. No matter, the creature knew that all he had to do was remain still, and-
“Are you sleeping comfortably?”
That was new. This whole situation was new. Usually when ponies found him in his little hole they assumed he was dead and ran off to find help. By the time they’d returned the creature would have left of course. Maybe if he just kept laying as still as he could-
“I know you aren’t dead. And I’m certainly not going anywhere. Why don’t you sit up and we can have a little chat?”
Her voice was nice to listen to. Like a cool stream on a summer’s day, it was almost refreshing to hear. The creature slowly opened one eye to take in the stranger. She was like nothing he had ever seen in all his wandering. Her mane flowed like clouds, filled with stars. Her coat was dark and regal, perfectly kept and trimmed. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, deep and so very beautiful.
She was everything that he was not. Perhaps if he sat up, she would see that.
So he did.
The first thing Luna noticed was his height. He was only a few inches shorter than herself, and that was rare for most earthbound mortals. She then began taking mental notes about his appearance. An earth pony, with a greyish tan coat. Long black mane, straight and definitely unwashed. His cutie mark appeared to be nothing more than scarring in the shape of lightning.
Looking over him almost forced her to turn away. Scars at every joint and juncture. From the tip of his breast down to his gut, across the width of his barrel and up the length of his back. A hint of a forked scar disappeared from his forehead into his long black mane. Her gorge began to rise at the thought of whatever pain this poor stranger had been through to require such extensive treatment. The only thing she could offer was to help his dreams, not his body.
“My name is Princess Luna, raiser of the moon, keeper of dreams. What is your name, my little pony?”
He stood, seemingly shocked by the fact she had not run in fear. The question itself also seemed to pose a problem to him as he tilted his head in confusion, before his eyes darted to the ground.
He lowered himself in a bow, and began to speak.
“Forgive me Princess,” he said with some sadness “but I do not have a name.”
His voice was gentle, but also rough.
“Truly?” Princess Luna asked, “Most ponies I meet have names, or are called things by others. What do the other ponies you meet call you?”
His eyes seemed to glisten as tears fell to the floor of the void they stood in. He rose to his haunches and sat like a chastised foal. Through trembling lips he said one word.
One word was all it took for Princess Luna to decide this stallion would need more direct assistance from herself and all her power could offer.
One word was all it took for the void around them to transform into a nightmarish forest of pitchforks and torches, clubs and spears, and thousands of furious shouting faces repeating the one word over and over again.
“Monster,” he said. “They call me a monster.”
The first cock of morning sang out the arrival of day, shaking the creature from sleep. It’s eye snapped open. Still in the dirt, still under the leaves.
Still alone.
Only a dream, it thought. Only in a dream could one as beautiful as she speak to me as equal.
He raised himself from the depression in the cold morning earth to see the sun rise.
He certainly did not expect to see three small fillies, staring at him as though he had risen from the dead.
The running and screaming was fairly normal though.