//------------------------------//
// August 
// Story: The Life of A God 
// by Eventide Indigo 
//------------------------------//

August 3rd

I guess it's my birthday again, huh? Well, happy birthday to me. 

It's been a long month. They found me. The royal guards searched high and low for the little 10-year-old freak that just killed somepony. And, of course, one of the downfalls of being a draconequus (and the last one at that) is that you're pretty easy to spot in a crowd. I knew it wouldn't last forever. My hiding place was the park mom used to take me to, it was good enough for a night or two: sleep under the stars or take shelter in a tree...

But my stomach protested. I was starving. So, I made the mistake of sneaking into the local market to swipe an apple or two. One, I'm a horrible thief so they caught me. Two, the owner recognized me from the wanted posters that are everywhere. Figures.

I'm in a Royal cart right now, being taken to some weird place out in the country. They call it an 'asylum for foals' whatever that means. When they found me, they forced me into some white jacket with a bunch of locks. Now that I'm chained up, I can't use my paws (or talons), so I'll have to write with my mouth like I'm doing now.

The cart ride takes forever, but on the bright side they are allowing me to keep my journal so I can entertain myself. We passed the orphanage long ago as I was wheeled down the streets of Canterlot while several ponies stared in awe at the freak in a weird jacket thing being hauled away to the nuthouse. Mrs. Willow was standing on the step shaking her head as she stared at the ground, I tried to call to her but she didn't hear me.

Being in this jacket sucks. I can hardly move. I guess that;s the point: so I don't kill everypony in the city, because a ten-year-old can totally do that. 

As for the voices, they seemed satisfied after I... did that horrible thing to the bully. They haven't told me anything else yet, but I still hear them whispering nonsense in my ear sometimes. 

The voices are a normal thing, right? Do you hear them too, diary?

Oh, they say we're arriving soon.
Wish me luck.
-Discord   

* * *

August 4th

So I have officially arrived at Mrs. Wilt's Home for Unstable Foals. 

It reminds me a bit of the orphanage, except everything is much, much older. The ivy snakes up all the walls and it smells like rotting leaves in here. Oh well, I guess I'll have to get used to it or something.

I arrived yesterday and I already hated the place. It looked like a crumbling prison to me. I was greeted by two of the workers at the asylum, dressed in white uniforms that resembled those of a doctor. The guards held me down while they tightened the jacket around me to stop my struggling. One of the nurse-ponies brought a mask over to me and put it over my muzzle, strapping it on. 

This was really uncomfortable,  and it hurt a little... I whimpered and one of the nurses looked down at me sympathetically. She told me everything would be okay and the mask was only temporary. Then they wheeled me off on a metal cart they use to move boxes. The place is musty and gross, as I mentioned earlier. 

It was large, but there were only about twenty cells, almost all of them empty. Each had the same thing in them: a rusty sink, some sort of toilet thing, and a clunky sagging mattress on an old bed frame. Eww.

They wheeled me into one and lit a candle to guide me into the dark room. The guards left the room, all except for one, who helped me by untying the mask and letting it fall to the ground before he picked it up. He then untied the jacket, which he picked up as well. It felt awesome to be free. 

"You're not alone here. We'll do our best to help you." were his exact words before he left the room, slamming a large metal door shut behind him. The room went completely dark as he had taken the candle with him. 

Well, crap. 

And what exactly did he mean by 'not alone here' anyway? Were there other foals here...? I... can't tell yet. The room is so dark and cold.

And the voices are back. 

-Discord