The only sounds were the pattering of rain and the slow, precise hoofsteps of the lone survivor.
Even in this dark reality, order had its place.
And the pony was very ordered.
Any scientist had to be.
Once one of the most revered intelligences in all of Equestria, the scientist was starting to doubt even his own mind.
There couldn’t be the ghosts of the fallen ponies in the corner of his vision, disappearing when he turned their way.
There couldn’t be the sound of screams of agony and terror ringing in his ears.
Surely the blood-soaked pegasus feathers from dark rainclouds couldn’t have been real.
Victims of high-energy blasts didn’t bleed.
Radiation sickness didn’t make ponies bleed.
But why, then, did his hooves remain soaked?
Why, whenever he trod on the harsh terrain, did his hoofsteps leave a dark red patch in his wake?
Why did the rocks that remained look like skulls?
Who was the black-robed figure who he saw behind him, always disappearing when he got too close?
Why did the figure hold a scythe?
WhywhywhywhywhywhyWHYWHYWHY?!?!
The world span, the ghosts closed in, and everything went black.
Still can't remember
What happened in September
Back when everypony died
Trails of blood during my stride