It's cold... very cold. And it's quiet... too quiet. I can't see anything, though there's a slight glow around my field of vision. I suppose that counts as something. Still, I can barely move, it's difficult for me to even feel where I'm going. In fact, I can't feel anything. Is it really cold at all or is it just the numbness keeping even the warmth from me?
I go to move my hand to my face, but am barred by some invisible surface just inches above me. I feel around, but can't actually feel it. I try pushing and I hear something; crunching. Being buried alive springs to mind and I begin to fret. How much air do I have? How far underground am I? Have I just been buried or am I on my last legs as it is?
I stop struggling against the lid of what I assume is my coffin as I realize something. I'm not breathing. Oh no, I'm a zombie, a vampony, something undead that doesn't need to breathe. I slide my hand along the lid to reach for my neck, but find nothing but spine. I pause again.
I'm truly dead. I think as I bring my hand up to my face. Through the faint glow, I can see the bones. I must have some sort of glowing orbs for eyes. I wonder if when I blink, they blink out of existence. That would come in handy for playing dead... in the truest sense of the word.
I test my theory by closing one eye (or dimming one light). It works, the glow has faded to half. My panic washes away and I'm more fascinated than anything. I am somepony who has somehow cheated death.
Come to think of it, who am I? I think to myself as I scratch my head. I suppose I won't get any answers in here, will I? With that in mind, I begin to claw at the lid of the coffin. I must be stronger than I thought because the wood chips away easily... like bark on the trunk of a forest tree.
I assumed there would be dirt on the other side, but I am surprised to touch nothing but fresh air, actually, there is stone as well. I begin to worry as I feel like I've been buried in cement, but that wouldn't explain the fresh air. A tomb perhaps? I think to myself as I punch out either side of the coffin. My left side stretches out with little difficulty while my right undoubtedly breaks apart. I focus on the left side, kicking and punching my way out. The left wall is destroyed and the lid falls on top of me. I just shirk it off and climb out of the coffin like I would a bed... with a low ceiling.
Free from my resting place, I stretch out, feeling the joints on me pop with excitement at having been used after so long. I turn to look at my home and find that my name, assuming that's what it was has faded over time, corroded away much like the flesh that once must have stuck to my bones.
With no memory of who I am or what my name is, I look around the dark, dank... tomb. I'm in a tomb. I must have been very important to be buried in a tomb. I contemplate as I look at the gifts that other deceased beings have received. Some of them have coins, undoubtedly tributes from their families. I look to my own space and find a single urn. Curious, I open it to find a handkerchief with a symbol on it. I recognize this as the royal family's symbol. So I was visited by royalty? They paid their respects? I muse. It's unlikely that I was the only one. Looking further into the urn, I find a set of black garments. Some form of suit. It's worn slightly over the years and something has eaten away at the tail and cape ( I think it's a cape). Small holes are all over it, but it's more or less intact. It looks like something a Changeling King might wear, though I have no idea how I would possibly know that.
I look myself over and notice that I have absolutely no clothing. Then again, the dead don't usually care for decency... do they? I suppose I'm the only one who's had the chance to care about it. Regardless, I try the suit on. It fits the ribcage nicely, but the legs are not much thicker than the bones, nor is the waist. I must have been a very skinny pony when I was alive.
I tie the belt up as tight as it can go, so the pants don't fall past my waist. I button up the tailcoat and leave the shredded cape alone. I've no current interest for flare. I imagine I'd stand out enough as it is. I take one more look around the tomb before heading for the exit, which is just a few meters from my cubicle. It's a flight of steps that have broken over time, but are still usable.
I learn quickly that the tomb was actually underneath an old castle. It has deteriorated far beyond what the tomb has and the plant life has taken over. I can only imagine how magnificent this place must have been back in its day. Alas, the memories still aren't triggered by what must be familiar to me. With a sense of unfulfillment, I browse the remains of the castle. Beyond is a forest the likes of which I'm sure even I would have never seen before.
The hour grows late and the sun is setting. There is much left to the roof within, and no shortage of wood just outside. The clouds reveal a storm on the way, and although I can no longer feel the touch of cold, I'd rather not be weighed down by wet clothing. Plus, it just seems more natural to huddle around a fire during a storm. I think in addition.
With my mind set, I take my leave of the castle and gather what firewood I can. There's certainly an abundance of the stuff just strewn across the ground. I've a whole week's worth of firewood I could keep it going non-stop, day and night. I gather all I can inside before the rain starts to build. I had quite some difficulty lighting the fire as my bony hands made it difficult to keep a solid grip on the starter without toppling it over. In the end, I had to use the space between my forearm bones to keep the starter upright while I madly twisted the stick back and forth.
With a steady fire going, I found that despite the stress and the lengthy, although minimal manual labor didn't tire me out in the slightest. Perhaps it was because I was stronger than I would have been alive, or perhaps it was the unknown number of years that I'd spent "resting" had caused a build-up of energy that was virtually endless.
Thinking of energy, I began to examine my body. Feeling around, I had a horn. A pretty long one if general knowledge served. I also had two extra appendages just below the shoulder blades. Wings looked really weird without the feathers. Kinda useless now, I guess. With that in mind, I just wrapped them around my torso, letting them end as little more than an extra pair of ribs.
I wonder how I came back to life? I thought to myself. Better still, what took me so long to do it? I added. These were indeed questions to ask. Unfortunately, luck was not on my side. A voice called out in the distance. A young voice by the sound of it.
"H-hello? Is anypony in there?" it called out. I jolted back to reality and stood up. She must have seen the smoke rising from the fire. I thought. The filly's light hoof-steps could just be made out among the pattering of the rain. In a rush of indecision, I panic and slink as quickly as I can towards the nearest shadow.
I'm just in time as a very young filly, younger than she sounds with an orange coat, purple mane and tail and very peculiar clothes steps in and inspects the place.
"Hello? Is it alright if I come in?" she asks. I'm tempted to answer her, but I realize I don't know how to speak, or even know if I can. My only response is to remain in the shadows, the faint blue glow from my eyes the only thing that can give me away. I figure I can shut those off and play dead if she spots me.
Without an answer, the filly enters the patch of shelter I chose and shakes herself off near the far end before hurriedly scurrying to the fire. The poor thing is shaking like a rattlesnake's tail. I only wish I hadn't dismissed the idea of food. I wonder what such a young filly is doing out in the forest alone? She's not wild, otherwise she wouldn't speak so well. I thought, sitting down. The filly looks around the area, and I close my eyes just in time to play dead. She gasps a little, but makes no audible moves to remove me from my place.
A few moments later, I crack an eye open to find her silently sobbing to herself with her back turned to me. The concept of a skeleton within view must be unpleasant to her, especially after the day she's obviously had. The poor, poor thing. What happened? I desperately want to know.
Without warning, she starts to take off her clothing. If I could blush, I would. But the awkwardness of the action is diminished by the sight I see beneath the clothing. Bruises and gashes cover the filly's body like paint covers a canvass. Whomever had the audacity to do something to such a beautiful creation of life was a master at not letting it show. Also a complete and utter bastard! I add to the thought.
I watch in sadness and pity as the young filly moves away from the fire and grabs a damp cloth, undoubtedly riddled with bacteria that would do more harm than good, wet it in even more bacterial water and press it lightly onto her wounds. I hear her wince in pain at the action and I can't stand it.
With her back turned to me, I stand up and sneak out of the castle in search of food for her. Oddly enough, instinct leads me to a berry patch which contains a single bush that has specifically shaped leaves. Taking one leaf from the bush, it constricts like a limb with its blood flow cut into a bowl shape. With my container ready, I pick the riper berries, making sure to avoid the poisonous ones. I don't know how I know which ones are poisonous and which ones aren't, but I just know, and for the filly suffering back in that old abandoned castle, that's more than enough for me.
With a bowl full of berries, I make my way back to the castle. Leaving was simple enough, but I failed to factor in where she would be facing when I returned and when she'd finished cleaning herself off. Luck was on my side this time as she'd apparently cried herself to sleep.
I try for a smile, but I'm unsure as to how it came out. I placed the bowl between her and the fire and went down to the tomb to fetch my cape. It had one more use tonight. Despite the holes, I imagine it would be rather comfortable. Better than what she had on, at least. Fortunately, she's still a small thing, so folding the cape in half still leaves room for her to stretch without her hooves poking out the other end. Doing so eliminated half the holes she would be exposed to.
You rest now, little filly. I think as I place the folded cape over her. She snuggles into it as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. She still seems a little out of sorts and I spot an old and tattered seat cushion nearby. I smile again, although the gesture is wasted in so many ways, it's not funny. The cushion is little more than a few feet away, within arms reach.
Tomorrow is a new day. I think in continuation to my previous thought as I gently slip the pillow under her head. She moans happily and curls up under the makeshift sleeping spot. And I'll be looking out for you. I add, standing up again and walking over to my shadowy corner. I sit back down and relax my body, letting everything slump into deadness. Still not tired, I just watch her sleep through the fire, adding the odd log every now and then to keep it and her alive from this storm. If somepony were to find her tonight with bad intentions in store, I'd be sure to stop them.