//------------------------------//
// Impending Expiration 
// Story: Outspoken 
// by Jet Howitzer 
//------------------------------//

	I trudge slowly down the dark hallway, the only sounds are the clinking of my chains and the concrete hoof-steps of my escort. It's cold and rainy, as if the world is mourning my impending expiration. I only hope that the priest in the chapel was right, I hope that I am tried fairly at those pearly gates for the unjust crimes I have committed.

I am brought to the dinning hall for my final meal. As per my request the entrée is a fully loaded salad with a corn muffin on the side. I take my place at the head of the twelve foot table, it is only my escort and I in the hall, all of the prisoners have long since retired for the night. Too bad for them, because from the mouth-watering smell of the salad, I can tell my meal will be delicious.

I was right about the salad. Upon finishing the last dressing-covered bit, I gave a satisfied belch. Deciding that my stomach could withstand a bit more food, I dig into the corn muffin, it's sweet taste and flaky texture make it more than a match for the tender salad. I finish the meal with a simple glass of water to cleanse my mouth of any scraps of food. I fold my napkin place it on the plate, and tell the guard to give my regards to the chef. He silently nods before chaperoning me to the execution wing of the prison.

Although the walk is short, it seems to take eons. I am able to pick out which prayer each of the death row inmates are saying before passing by their cells. Their mouths moving in the forms of "Celestia" and "Luna" I wonder if they will be attending. After all, I did question their rule, I wouldn't be surprised if they showed up for the execution. After a few minutes more of silent deliberation about my actions and the whereabouts of the equestrian royals, I arrive at the place of my final moments.

The room is small, no bigger than ten feet by ten feet, in the middle is a wooden chair with a battery pack and a helmet of sorts. The executioner leads me into the strangely comfortable chair and hooks me up as if I were taking another lie detector test. After hooking me up to all of the heart monitors, blood-pressure readers, and Celestia knows what else, he lowered the helmet onto my head. The last step he takes is pulling a chord on the far side of the room, I brace myself for the impending shock, but it never came. I risk a peak at what is happening on the other side if my eyelids. I am met with a window to another room with the two rulers of Equestria and seven other ponies residing in it, all but one of whom were staring at me with an expression of contempt that would turn Discord to ash. None of them mattered though, I was focused on the orange filly that was sitting a few seats from where I was.

There is a voice from the PA above, "Do you have any last words?"

I think for a second, and swallow hard before giving my final respects. "I do, I would first like to start by asking why questioning a monarchy is such a bad thing?"

"Because it uproots the very foundation of Equestria!" The one called Twilight screamed,"it questions our daily lives!"

"But, by what authority do they rule?"

"They raise the sun and moon, did you not learn this as a foal?" The marshmallow white unicorn next to Twilight said.

"Yes, but do you not pay attention to the Hearth Warming's Eve performances? They say that long ago, unicorns, not alicorns specifically, raised the sun and moon."

"Those are just stories." She retorted.

"As were the elements of harmony, as was the sonic rainboom, as was the mare in the moon prophecy."

"Your point?"

"My point is that, if at least one pony believes something, he has the power to make his idea spread, and trust me, I have spread my idea, in every direction ponies and all other intelligent life will know your lies. I hope you are listening because there will be blood. And where has it to go but to your hooves?"

"It's time," Celestia said into the PA.

Then the executioner turns on this contraption I reside in. At first all there is is a soft whirring; a switch-flip later, though, I could feel time slow as a tingling sensation coursed through my head, starting at the outside and working its way into my brain.

Before I became too over come, I mutter out,"Scootaloo, I'm sorry I can't be there for you to be your father, I only hope that you don't see me as a criminal, rather as your father. I don 't ask you to follow in my footsteps, rather, I wish that you live a normal foalhood. I want you to make friends that make you happy.." I stopped feeling my mouth and could no longer speak.

My face began to grow more difficult to move and I had a hard time focusing on the on-lookers in the other room. The fogginess continued to invade my vision; it was at the point where I was having trouble keeping to my eyes open. Slowly but almost mercifully, I fall into a blissful sleep.

I did not dream in this sleep, all that was there was the tingling inside my head and the endless darkness that is the inside of my subconscious. I waited, waited for the final blow that would strike me down, but it did not come immediately. This gave me time to think, think about my crimes, to think about this cruel and inhumane fate that has fallen upon me. My final monologue was cut short by another shock. It wasn't the tingling sensation that put me into this state of unconsciousness, it felt as if Death himself had thrusted a spear through my heart. The pain spread from the wound to the point where it felt as if my very skeleton was made of molten slag, burning my insides. Then it all stopped, there was no pain, no second-thoughts, and no remorse. I felt at peace, like a kit in its mother's warmth. All that was there was the feeling of defying gravity.

Then there was a soft singing and a glow coming from the gates above me.



Change your thoughts, and you change the world.
~Norman Vincent Peale
People should not be afraid of their governments,
Governments should be afraid of their people.
~V


(Thanks for reading.  This wasn't written by me.  I was just asked to post it.)