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// Et sanguinem lacrimarum 
// Story: The Great and Powerful Puppet 
// by Eventide Indigo 
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"Now, before we begin, I have a queshtion for you," my mother said, swaying slightly in her drunkenness. She pointed a hoof to me, advancing by three rather large steps across the room until she was foreleg's distance away. I could feel her breath on my neck as she loomed over my buried head.


"Y-yes, mother?" I stammered, gazing up into her piercing golden eyes.


"Why do you do thish to yourshelf?" she slurred, having to rest a hoof of the wall to hold her up. Her gaze hardened and she gave me a wicked smile. She withdrew her hoof from the wall and stood before me, no longer staggering in her intoxication. Her words were now clear. "This! You know, Trixie, I wish I could love you as I love Acantha and Iris. I wish I could be a good mother, but you... you're always finding ways to spoil our happiness."


She ceased to speak as though the story ended there, but I knew what she was doing. She was lurking, prowling, waiting for me to say something, anything that could make her hate me more. Perhaps it would justify the beating I was about to receive. When she heard nothing, she stopped her circling and suddenly became intent on studying an old family photograph. One taken before I was born, when Iris and Acantha were nothing but toddlers.



"You see this?' she said quietly, pointing to the photo. "Do you notice anything about it?"


"I'm not there," I deadpanned.


"Yes, and we're so happy. All my children have always been such lovely, well-behaved little fillies. They knew just what to say and just how to act. But you... you are different," she spat. 

"You're a wicked little child."


"I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree then," I retorted. For a moment, the room was silent, as silent as the mouths of the dead. My mother stood, facing the photo with a pleasant smile that had slowly begun to fade. 


Stupid Trixie! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 


My mother turned to me, a calm smile still hovering over her features. I knew it was a mask. I could tell she was seething. The way her eye twitched, how her ear quivered with every advance she made on me or how her smile nearly seemed too big for her face; these were all ways I could tell she was currently pondering how many fun new ways she could make me suffer for my words.


But even if I hadn't said a thing, she would still do the same.


Swiftly and without words, my mother crept towards me with her sinister smile. I closed my eyes and anticipated the worst. Perhaps I would grow numb to the pain. I fought the urge to scream as she raised her hoof and slapped me clean across the face, sending me flying across the room. I hit the opposite wall with a loud thud, leaving a trail of blood that had begun dripping from my nose like a leaky faucet.


"Now, Trixie," my mother tsked in mock disapproval. "You're slouching! Good girls don't slouch!" 


I winced as a jolt of pain filled me, but I had to stand up and face her. I had to stand up straight.


"Yes, M-mother," I sobbed. 


My mother nodded. I closed my eyes as the sound of her hoofsteps galloped towards me at an alarming rate. I shrieked as she leapt upon me, pinning me to the ground with ease. I lay splayed out on my back in a pool of my own blood and tears, while my mother put one leg on either side of me and held up her hoof. I wriggled in her grasp, wincing and sobbing even harder as she landed a blow across my cheek.


"Now tell mommy you love her," she commanded, continuing to punch my face. 

I heard a loud crack as her hoof collided with my muzzle. I felt a new surge of blood flow from my nose and drip down to the floor. It had begun to fill my mouth. I choked and gagged as it collected in my throat.


I whimpered, my eyes pleading for her to stop. She didn't relent. I tried to scream as she hit me once more, forcing me to swallow some of the blood.


"Tell mommy you love her!" she yelled, her hoof raised above my face, preparing to strike me again and again until I had been tamed. I choked, my whimpers increasing. I turned my head ever so slightly, spitting out as much of the blood as I could.


"I love you, mommy," I breathed, my eyes closing. 


Please let this be the end. 


To my relief, I felt the weight of my mother lift off of me, and the sound of her dainty hoofsteps as she trotted from the room. I knew the rules. I could never tell anypony. If I did, I would suffer. Nopony could know about our little secret.


I lay there, my fur soaked with slowly drying blood, which had now turned a sickly reddish-brown. I expelled another mouthful of blood, letting it pour freely from my mouth. I could already feel my face begin to swell and bruise. I cried quietly into my hooves for what seemed like an eternity, praying for the end.


Please, let this end. Let this be the end of me. I prayed for death. Please, let me die.


Mustering what remained of my strength, I raised my hoof up to the wall. I dipped it in the pool of blood and began to write. The streaks of fading crimson formed letters and, soon, words.


The Great and Powerful Trixie


With a contented smile, I shut my eyes and prayed once more for the end.