Canterlot, oh what beauty it holds; yet uncouth filth it harbors amongst its busy streets. From my penthouse I watch the sewer rats scurry about, buying, and pedaling, and begging their way through the market; each with their tattered, filthy clothes, and their grimy faces, and speaking in their ghastly, butchering of the English language. I look down upon them and can only feel hatred for them. All I can do to live with them is to remember my reason for living here: the Canterlot aristocracy.
For, I am a stallion of class and status. I go to the theater, I attend balls, I entertain guest of the highest regard, and I have even been permitted on occasion to walk the palace grounds. Yes, this is the life Celestia has permitted me to live, and of all of it there is something that I love above all in this regal life of mine. That “something” is the Annual Grand Galloping Gala! Each year the Canterlot elite gather together at the Royal Palace and hold the greatest ball ever known. The music, the dancing, the culture, the bouquet of aged wine! Oh how they call to me, and knowing that it is so close only greatens my anxiety. For tonight is the night of the gala and it shall be the best night ever.
I got my invitation not but a week ago. For this event I was more than usually excited, for the letter read:
Celestial Palace
Canterlot SW1A 1AA
April the thirty-first,
Mr. Hoity Toity
186 Flutter Street,
Canterlot SW1A 1AA
Dear Mr. Hoity Toity,
We are pleased to invite you to this year’s Grand Galloping Gala. This year there will be a theme to which you must oblige to, to attend. This year will be a masquerade. The event will be held at eight o’clock May the sixth, on the palace grounds. We are requesting your attendance.
Sincerely,
Sir, Purebred VI
R. S. V. P.
Oh what fun the masks shall be, each pony portraying one whom they are not. Being a fairly simple stallion, I’ve picked a plain, yet very realistic crescent shaped mask with a black streak painted upon the brow that flows onto the right cheek. With it a simple brown, tailored suit and top hat.
I boarded my carriage at seven fifteen and made my way towards the palace. The ride there was not pleasant in the least. A lowly fish monger lost control of his cart as we passed by. It careened out of the darkness and crashed into my carriage. I flew from my seat and skidded across the cobblestone path. I smelt fish and felt that was covered in blood and muck, and then darkness.
I awoke some time later on a bench within the palace grounds. I knew not how I had come to be there, but I did know that I was there. I had no time to lose. I found my bearings and made my way towards the sound of the music. Oh what sweet music it was. There was a grand piano being played with expert craft. A bass’ melodic undertones being played by the famed Octavia could be heard amongst the laughter of the masqueraders, and a Tuba’s brazen shouts could be made out from the sound woven into the music so that every fiber of my body wished to join the affair and dance the night away.
I was almost upon the mass when I saw a sight which destroyed even my happiest of thoughts. I saw the bane of my existence. There was a “rat” amongst the grounds not two feet away from me. He wore tattered, brown work clothes and had smudges and grime upon his face. He spoke not a word to me. He only stared. For a moment I had to let my anger subside so that may speak to him.
The moment was over and I asked him how he came to be upon the palace grounds and what business he had here. He merely continued to stare at me. I asked again calling out loud to him as he might be hard of hearing. He responded only by staring back at me. His eyes shining brightly off the torch light in the main hall. It was now that I noticed that his right eye seemed to be impaired in some way for I could only see a part of it. This only infuriated me more, knowing that a disfigured, vile, and blatantly rude common pony had infiltrated this respectable affair. I continued to call after him, screaming for him to answer his elder. I screamed and screamed but still he did not respond, only starting. Only staring. ONLY STARING!
I thought about his tattered appearance and his grimy features, and it infuriated me to the point of breaking. With each flicker of the torches his eyes flashed before me. Always staring. Never blinking. Always, never, staring, blinking. I HATED HIM! I Loathed him. I could stand a minute more. I thrust myself upon the pony as to throttle him and rid him of my presence. There was a tumult of thrashing and screaming which drew spectators from the gala out onto the grounds to see what the commotion was about.
As suddenly as it had started the thrashing stopped. I knew I had done it I had killed the pony at the masquerade; the one that never blinked and ruined my special night. He was dead and then I saw black.
I awoke for a second time this night, but this time I was unsure if I was awake or in a nightmare. A horrible stench overwhelmed me. I walked for some distance and came upon a ghastly sight. A decaying forest was spread across my view. There were gnarled, twisted trees stunted by the foul air that reached out for me. Sprouting from their branches a foul, sickly fruit hung. Then the sight which told me where I was came to view. Amongst the branches hung the bodies of dead souls. I knew where I was and I screamed in anguish as my very own twisted tree grew beside me so that I may join my brethren amongst these forsaken woods. The scream was never heard.
THE END