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// Act 1: Chapter 1 - The City of Death 
// Story: The Apocalypse Ponies: Origins 
// by PlagenShiki 
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The Apocalypse Ponies
Chapter 1 - The City of Death


Morning descends upon the small town of Crescentville and the sun is approaching halfway to the top of the sky. Ponies begin to go about their day like they always have, dealing with the hardships of their current lives and hoping for the future. Shops open and patrons surge through the dirt streets of the town. In the town’s center begins the very same event that occurs each and every day, as it has for months.

A white cloaked unicorn entered the center and began to ring a bell he carried with him. His face was hidden behind a bird’s mask; the mask encompassing his entire head, save a hole for his horn. As he rang the bell, using his magic to send its chime resounding throughout the town, he enhanced his voice with his magic as well and spoke to the town as a whole.

“Citizens of Crescentville, I welcome you good morning and hope you have lasted through the night as best you could. I doubt all of us are that lucky however. The Plague is still thriving, a cure, unfound. But, you can all do your part for prevention! Bring out your dead! While you may have cared for them when they were alive, keeping them with you will only cause you harm. Bring them out and help load them onto the carts as they make their rounds. Not only is The Plague spread by the living, but it is spread by the decomposing dead! Bring out your dead! Only then can you minimalize your exposure to The Plague. Countless have already died, so know that you are not alone in your mourning. Bring out your dead! And only then can their mourning begin, as the holy flames destroy The Plague from their very souls!”

“As a reminder to all citizens, withholding the dead and hiding them is punishable by hanging. The dead are not only a threat to you and your families, but a threat to the town as a whole. Count Crescent feels your pain, and mourns the loss of each of his subjects. The Count’s own daughter, Waning, was taken by The Plague just months ago. Trust me when I say that he knows your pain. So please, do the responsible and noble thing. Bring out your dead!”


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The typical speech. It encourages everyone to take their dead family members and neighbors who died overnight from The Plague and load them into carts. Though, the part about the Count’s daughter was added only shortly after her death. The carts get loaded, each and every day. At approximately this time, each, and every day. And so my family’s clinic gets these carts and their dead passengers, each and every day. Of course, it wasn’t always like this.

Two months ago the carts went to the undertaker’s house. However, after Rust the undertaker’s death from The Plague, all of his work became our work. It was just a simple matter of moving backwards up the chain of events. Our clinic would inspect the dead and determine if they died from The Plague, and needed burning, or if they died from something else, and could be buried. Rust would take care of burning the corpses or burying the dead. But, that was before he died.

Now, my father and I have taken up Rust’s job as well. My father, Sawblade, had been teaching me about medicine. He had wanted me to take over the clinic when he died, as was tradition, like his father, grandfather, and so on had done. My mother, Serenity, and younger sister, Lyric, tend the housework, cooking, and shopping. So far our family has been one of the few who have been lucky enough to not feel the effects of The Plague. Speaking of The Plague, I suppose I should explain exactly what it is, at least to our knowledge.

Supposedly, the first case happened around a year ago when a rat bit somepony. The Plague has only been in our town and Kingdom for a few months. But, it is a very deadly and infectious disease. At first, you will develop a slight cough. The next morning, you will find yourself paralyzed. After a few more hours blood will begin to trickle from your eyes, nose, and mouth. Within another hour, sometimes up to two, your throat will close up, and you’ll begin to suffocate. But, that is the least of your worries. Before you suffocate your internal organs will begin to fail and rupture. The pain is excruciating, and you will scream throughout your final night. In total, the time it takes to die from the disease is two nights from contraction.

The Plague is what ponies call it. Personally, I think that is kind of a dumb name. That is like calling a type of tree, The Tree. But they do it because, thus far in history, it is the single most devastating sickness to befall ponykind. Though, I should also mention that it isn’t just ponykind. The disease also infects griffons, zebra, buffalo…really it infects many of the intelligent creatures. The disease spreads through the air and bodily fluids, even cross-species. The only way to stop the spread is to burn the corpses, isolate the victims, or wear a Plague Mask, like The Mourners wear.

The stallion from this morning, the one yelling ‘bring out your dead!’, is a Mourner. The Mourners is an organization established by our kingdom, The Moon Kingdom, to fight The Plague. However, due to the limited nature of the herbs required in the manufacture of Plague Masks, the herbs which filter out The Plague, only The Mourners have Plague Masks. King LeMoon has ordered The Mourners to every town, so each town has at least one. Some larger towns have more, however. I should note that Count Crescent is the 13th son of King LeMoon and was granted land in recognition of his royal birth.

However, The Mourners are a joke. In reality, they are just nobles who oversee how The Plague is dealt with. They pass down noble decrees and direct us around. But in reality, my father and I are the ones who combat the disease, in our town at least. The Mourner just sits in the Count’s castle, safe behind his mask and never lends us a hoof in dealing with the dead, or The Plague. He just gets up, gives his speech, and returns to the castle. Safe and sound, no more than a coward.


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I woke up this morning to The Mourner’s cries. It seems that I had slept in longer than usual today. No real loss, however. My work didn’t start till the corpses arrived anyway, and that was still a few hours away from when The Mourner gave this speech. I rolled out of my bed of hay and onto my hooves, trotting over to my mirror to inspect myself. As I approached the mirror, I came into view. My black coat was slightly ruffled and my white mane and tail were a tangled mess. I levitated up my brush and began grooming myself.

After I finished brushing, I turned and looked about my room. It wasn’t anything special, the floors were wooden and the walls were made from stone. The ceiling, like many buildings in our town, had wooden supports below a hay roof. My room was small and only contained my bed, a mirror, and a small table on which I set my brush. It wasn’t lavish by any means, we weren’t rich like the Count and other nobles, but we made do with what we had. I was at least happy that it had a window with a view that wasn’t either another house, or the dying town. I could look out over the countryside, which was always a welcome sight to the things I saw over the course of each day.  Trees dotted the landscape and hills rolled as far as I could see. It was a peaceful scene.

I left my room and went to our kitchen where my mother, Serenity, was cooking. She had a white coat and a red mane and tail. Her cutie mark was a wooden spoon, made sense since she was a brilliant cook. However, it struck me as odd that she should be cooking at this time of day, and I asked her as much.

“Oh, good morning, Grell. I thought you might be waking up soon, and would be hungry. So, I figured I would make something for you. Its only carrot stew, but we can also eat it for lunch.” Serenity told me.

I trotted over to our table and sat down as I asked her. I didn’t know how, but she always managed to do this. I could wake up any time of the day, and she would know when I was going to and have food ready for me. She always called it ‘mother’s intuition’, but I was curious if that was really all there was to it. After a few minutes of thinking to myself, my sister, Lyric, came into the room.

Lyric began walking around and setting up the table. She had a red coat and her mane and tail were brown. Lyric helped my mother with much of the housework, despite being younger than me. However my mother would often shoo her away so that Lyric could play. It was probably due to this that Lyric had gotten her cutie mark at a remarkable age. Her cutie mark was a musical note. Mother thought that fillies of her age shouldn’t be stifled in the house helping their mothers all day and encouraged her to go outside and play with friends. Though Lyric preferred to find a quiet place and sing, and had become quite good at singing. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she would become a notable singer in the future.

“Where is father?” I asked to them both. I hadn’t seen him yet, but I figured like always he would be in the clinic which adjoined our house. “Hm, I think dad is in the clinic. He should be setting things up for today.” Lyric told me. I had figured as much. He really needed a hobby, he spent too much time in there.

With that realization, mother finally finished cooking and gave me a helping of carrot stew. I thanked her and ate it quickly, time was slowly running out and I had work to do. It was delicious. I finished eating and thanked my mother once again. Then I got up and exited the kitchen through the door leading to our clinic.

Father wasn’t here, but I did guess that it was about that time. He was busy elsewhere at this time. The clinic was where all of our medical treatment to our live patients happened. It had several counters which had medical supplies and items lay upon them. Above those counters were cabinets filled with medicines, bandages, and other healing items. In the center of the room was a table the patients would sit or lay on, whichever was required. Along a wall was a bench where waiting patients would sit while we helped the current. Like my room, it wasn’t luxurious; however it was one of the better buildings in our town, save the Count’s castle. I took a final look around the room before I left the clinic and entered our adjoining surgery room.


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With The Mourners being useless, this means that my father and I are this town’s only hope. Our town’s population was 21,329 before The Plague. As of today, deducting last night’s deaths, our population stands at 5,261. Even though I am still young in my years, this sort of work has long since become mundane to me. It no longer causes me shock and disgust. Even before taking up Rust’s job, my knowledge of medical aid and procedures, and witnessing them done, my senses began to deaden. However, despite my medical knowledge and prowess, which began to evolve further than my father’s, I still did not have my cutie mark.

It wasn’t until we took up Rust’s undertaking job that I got it. A week into digging graves, burning corpses, and dealing in the dead, I got my cutie mark. It was a somewhat ominous one, but it felt fitting. My cutie mark was of a staff with two serpents winding up it. And atop of the staff was the skull of a pony. The staff and serpents made sense; it had long been associated with medicine. However the skull was out of place. But, I soon decided that it was symbolic of my workings involving death. And so I reasoned that it was my destiny to heal the dead, or in more reasonable terms, cure The Plague.

That was my belief, anyhow. And I lived my life with hopes of doing just that. I studied The Plague, learned all I could about it, but things aren’t always as easy as they seem. Today’s haul of corpses gave me more test subjects. But before I can run tests on them, we have to do the routine inspections. Don’t want to burn non-infested corpses, after all. We got 14 corpses in total. Today was a good day. I once had a day with 127 deaths…it was a long day.

Sawblade unloaded the corpses and put them into our holding room. I brought out the first two and laid them on the two tables we used for dissections. As he unloaded the rest, I laid out our tools and prepared the bodies. Once prepared, I awaited Sawblade to begin the dissections. As I did so, I looked at the two ponies in front of me, lied upon our tables.

The first one, which Sawblade would be dissecting, was a familiar looking stallion. He had been the baker’s assistant, if I’m not mistaken. I never knew his name. He showed no clear signs of being infected with The Plague. Many didn’t though. Many ponies wanted their loved ones to look good, even if they were infected. So, they would clean up the blood which would help give away The Plague. It was foolish, however. They were going to be burned anyway, I didn’t see the point. Not only that, but since The Plague is transferred via bodily fluids they put themselves at risk of getting infected. But without going into homes on a regular basis and stopping ponies from doing that, there was little we could enforce. Every pony knew, fliers were everywhere around town about preventing The Plague.

The stallion had a brown coat with a grey mane and tail. His cutie mark was a rolling pin. I opened his eyes and looked at them, they were blue, and had once been so full of life. Now they were dull and lifeless. I couldn’t see any blood lingering about around them, either he didn’t have The Plague, his eyes didn’t bleed, or whoever cleaned him was very thorough. I closed his eyes once more, and opened his mouth. Well, he had decent teeth at least, I’ll give him that. Oh! What’s this? Some blood is lingering around his gums. That could be a sign he had The Plague, but a few other diseases do that too, so we can’t just assume. A full dissection is necessary.

I left the stallion alone and turned my attention to the other pony, the one I would be dissecting. This pony was a mare. She had a grey coat with a black mane and tail. She was somewhat pretty, but not really my type, not to mention she’s dead. Anyhow, if I recall correctly she was the daughter of…some family…They did some sort of farming, but that’s all I knew. I turned my attention to her eyes, as I did with the stallion’s, and opened them. They were amber in color, and just as lifeless as the other’s. If there is one thing you can trust the dead to be, it is predictable.

In all the examinations I’ve done, I actually have discovered two ponies were alive, and simply paralyzed, and were thrown onto the cart by their families. All thanks to looking into their eyes. It actually amused me, discovering that a family had thrown away a perfectly good pony. Life is precious in these times, after all. And upon reuniting with their families, the anger their released at being thrown into a cart full of corpses and thought of as dead, is too humorous to ignore. Within a month, however, both of those I found alive returned to my table thanks to The Plague.

But, back to the mare who is currently resting on my table. Her eyes were devoid of blood residue, so I opened her mouth. Her teeth were not as good as the stallions, however she had no blood in her mouth either. Maybe she didn’t fall to The Plague, but we can’t know for sure yet. I close her mouth and take a look in her ears, still I find no blood. Well, there is still one place infected mares will bleed from that stallions will not. I lay her head down upon the table and make my way around to her flank. Not bad, I think to myself, but again, she’s dead. I drew my gaze to her genital. No blood residue outside. But, given family cleanings and all…I draw myself closer and open her up, looking inside. Well, she is definitely pink, but nothing out of place in here.

“Well, well Grell! Getting friendly with the young lady there?” a voice calls to me.

“Hm? Oh, Sawblade. Finished up storing today’s bodies?” I ask my father. He was always an upbeat fellow. He didn’t let The Plague get him down. He had a brown coat with a black mane and tail.

“Oh, you’re no fun son…I expected a reaction out of you,” Sawblade looking disappointed. “I remember when I was training under my father. I used to stare at the flanks of the cute dead mares too, when I was your age. He would always abruptly enter the room to get a reaction out of me. Embarrassed me to death most of the time.”

“I’m not doing anything to be embarrassed about. I’m simply looking for signs of The Plague. I’m not as perverted as you,” I retorted. “Anyhow, are you ready to begin? I looked yours over and he had bloody gums, but no other signs. Mine seems to be clean, but you can’t be too sure.”

Sawblade sighs, “Sometimes I worry that these times have taken a toll on you. But, you’re a valuable assistant. Let’s begin.”

At Sawblade’s decree, we begin to dissect our bodies. I always think of these side-by-side dissections as a race between Sawblade and I. In the past, I was quite slow. But, I’ve gained speed. So much so, that we finish almost at the same time. Though, I’ve begun to finish first. Regardless of who finishes first, the procedure is basically the same each time.

I lay the mare on her right side and walk around to her belly. Using my magic, I pick up my scalpel and hover it at the center of her breast. I focus my magic, and pierce the blade into her flesh. Slight blood begins to trickle out from the blade. If she were alive, there would be a lot more blood. I continue to pull the scalpel horizontally down her belly about a pony’s head long. With the main incision complete, I pull out the scalpel and place it once again at her breast, this time slightly above the first cut. I pierce her flesh once more, and drag the blade vertically down till it hits the first cut and continue down further creating the letter ‘T’ on her underside. I pull out the blade, and place it down where the first incision ended, only higher. For the third and final time I pierce her flesh, and drag the blade vertically once more, mimicking the second cut. I pull out the blade for the last time and her underside now bears the letter ‘I’.

I know it is odd, but I call this series of cuts the Lateral Tissue Incision. Mainly due to the fact that that it has the initials ‘L.T.I.’, it involves cutting of tissue on the side, and it is an incision. And as you make the cut you make a lowercase ‘l’, a capital ‘T’, and an uppercase ‘I’. It isn’t exactly what the professional name is; I don’t really care of official names because you end up with things being called The Plague. I prefer naming things myself, so that way I can quickly explain and know what I am talking about. Regardless, this is just the first step anyhow.

I float aside the scalpel and levitate up some pins. While the pins float I grab ahold of the mare’s newly created flaps of flesh and pull them outward. They make a squelching sound as they pull away from the remaining skin, muscle, and bone. Once I pulled them open, I float the pins to hover over the corners of the flesh and using my magic, I pierce her skin once more and pin her flaps to the table. Now her bones and organs are naked and exposed to my eyes. I peer inside as I float the saw up to her and begin sawing at her ribcage. 

Before I learned to maintain my tools, this part used to take a while. My saw would be dulled and barely make any headway through the ribs and sternum. I soon learned that if you sharpen your tools and maintain them properly, the time is significantly cut down. Speaking of which, I’m already done sawing. Nothing beats well maintained tools. I float aside the saw and grab hold of her ribcage with my magic, while it is only half it is still a large amount of bone. I carefully ease it out, and as always it shows little resistance. I set the ribs on the table and take in the view of her no longer obscured organs. Say what you will about outer appearances, how some are beautiful or handsome while others are not, but everyone looks the same on the inside.

Well, not quite. Males and females have different organs, that much is apparent. However, I also learned that those who frequently drank alcohol will have their livers discolored, but all the same regardless. And this mare wasn’t an exception. Heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, intestines, everything was there. I inspected each carefully, but I didn’t see any sign of the organ failure and rupturing which would be the telltale sign of The Plague. I smiled, looks like this one will get a burial.

“Well, looks like this mare was lucky. She didn’t die of The Plague. She will get to be buried and can have a grave her family can visit to remember her,” I said, directing my voice towards Sawblade. “How is your dissection turning out?”

“It appears mine is not so lucky. His insides are infested with The Plague. Another corpse for the pyres…”

“Is that so? Unfortunately, that is the news many families receive these days. All we can do is give them an invitation to watch the pyre. They don’t get a special place to mourn their loss.” Irritation began to show in my voice.

“You’re starting to sound like an old stallion looking back at how horrible things were. But, we can’t allow The Plague to spread. Burning those infected so they can’t infect their loved ones is all we can do for those that remain alive. I wish you could have been born after all this mess ended, son.” My father stated. His voice was filled with worry and sadness.

It always made me angry when he said things like that. If I hadn’t been born when I was, who knows what would have happened. Perhaps my father would have caught The Plague and died before he could have had me. Then, I wouldn’t have even been born in the first place.

“Don’t say that, Sawblade. If it wasn’t for the times we currently live in, my medical skills would not have developed as quickly as they did. You couldn’t have known The Plague would show up. In a way, it is both a blessing and curse. No need to worry or be sorry about it.” I hoped my words would put him at ease, and we could get through the day without many more conversations like these.

“I…I suppose you are right. But, I still don’t think a colt your age should have to witness things like this.” A hint of worry still showed in his voice.

The conversation died off, and we returned to our work. The dissection was complete and she showed no signs of being infected. All we really did was look inside to check the condition of the organs, anyhow. I levitated up the removed ribcage section and replaced it back into her body. Using some wire, I tied the loose ribcage to the remaining ribs. It just had to look good till she was buried, and this would do the trick. I pulled out the pins holding the flaps of flesh back and moved the flaps back against her body as I floated the pins aside.

I then floated up a needle and some strong thread and proceeded to thread the needle. I placed a hoof on the mare’s cut flesh, holding it in place. Floating the needle over to the top of the left cut, I stabbed the needle into her flesh and began to sew her cuts up. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. I finished the left side in about a minute, cut and tied off the thread, and moved to the right side and began to stitch that cut up. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. Another lovely stitch, I cut and tied off the right side and began stitching the middle. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. I finished tying up the final cut and sat the needle and thread back down on the table.

“Finished. How about you, Sawblade? Did I beat you this time?” I asked him with a smirk. I know that I did, I just wanted to gloat slightly.

“Already? You certainly are getting faster…I only began stitching my second cut. Well, good work.”

“Well, practice makes perfect. Anyhow, I’ll place her in the storage room and grab another one.”

I levitated the mare onto my back and trotted into the storage room. It was slightly below ground level, and was cooler than the rest of our house and clinic. This way the corpses would stay relatively fresh and not rot too fast. Mother would complain about the smell if the rotting progressed too far and the sent wafted into the house. 

Since we didn’t have many bodies today we could lay them out without stacking them, and even had room to spare. I walked to the back corner of the room, which was empty and away from the uncut bodies. I floated the mare off my back and laid her down. It was unfortunate, but her burial had to wait. The longer we held unknown cause of death corpses, the higher risk we ran of The Plague spreading. I wasted no time after setting her down and levitated up another corpse, laying it across my back and trotting back into the surgery room.


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After the routine inspection and cutting open this stallion, a cream coated gent with a burgundy mane and tail, I began to inspect his organs. His eyes, ears, and mouth were all bloody, so I expected he was infected with The Plague. His organs confirmed my suspicions. Mostly all of them were blackened and leaking blood, bile, acids, and other such normal fluids, well, normal inside of the organs, not inside of the body cavity. In addition to the normal fluids, there was plenty of pus.

I never understood The Plague. Where most other diseases targeted one thing in a pony and destroyed it, such as alcohol does with the liver, The Plague goes after every organ, sparing none. It is almost as if The Plague wanted to get rid of everything that was Pony inside the host. It was a dreadful, disgusting, and painful way to die. Even if having it wasn’t enough, the mental realization that you could spread the disease to your loved ones and infect them with it as well…well…Let’s just say we have had numerous ponies kill themselves at the first signs of The Plague.

However, the first sign is coughing. Plenty of other, very treatable, diseases involve coughing. This unfortunately meant that many of those who killed themselves, attempting to prevent spreading The Plague to their loved ones, were not actually infected with it and thus killed themselves in vain. I find the practice both noble and foolish.

Nevertheless, I quickly sew up the stallion and took him into the storage room. At this point, my father had already finished with his first, and grabbed a second. I made sure he placed him in a separate area from the previous mare. I didn’t want any mix-ups about which bodies were clean, and which were not. Luckily, he did, and I followed suit, dropping this stallion next to his. I grabbed another and set to work.

This was very repetitious work, and slightly bored me. Despite being quite squeamish my first dissection, I am quite calm about it now. With the hundreds of bodies I have dissected, the things I have seen, I did not have time to be squeamish. Once The Plague reared its head, my dissection count rapidly began to rise. Prior to it, I had probably only done two or three at most. After about ten you start to gain composure. After 50, you are so professional at it you could basically do it in your sleep. After 100, you start to see them less as ponies and more as hunks of meat. Then after a few more, you finally stop caring completely and just do your job; especially, if those stages came and went within a few days.

Despite the boredom, it was my job. And I pushed through as quickly as I could. Even with stopping to eat lunch, the carrot stew mother made, we had finished at a decent time. In total, I conducted eight while my father did six. I was faster, and my mindset helped. He was too playful and silly and tended to goof off. At the end of the day we had twelve plague related deaths and two unrelated deaths. Each of us got to dissect somepony who wasn’t infected, that can’t be said every day, so today was good.

It was barely into the afternoon, and most of our work had been completed. Unless anyone came into the clinic for something, all we had left to do was burn the infected and bury the clean. Attempting to save as much time as possible, I told my father, who decided to take a break after the dissections, that I would go prepare the pyre and graves. He nodded, but looked worriedly at me. I swiftly left the room before he could say anything.

I went to my room and threw on my saddlebags, then trotted outside and towards the undertaker’s shack. After taking over that job, we decided to leave all the tools of that trade in the shack, instead of bringing them back and forth with us each time we needed them; which had been each and every day for months, so it was a good idea.

Crescentville had a very simply layout to it. In the center there was the town square, well, it was a circle really. For a short distance north of it trees, long dead now, stood on each side of a street. At the end of this street rose the count’s castle, surrounded by walls and protected by guards. In every other direction, and spreading behind the castle as well, were streets and buildings. It was laid out in cobweb-like fashion; A circle of buildings with a road in front and behind them, then another circle of buildings around that circle, and another circle, and another. In total, there were about fifteen circles of buildings, both shops and houses. Of course, there were small roads connecting each ring. However, the planner had clearly not planned far ahead, as these roads were not straight, but instead caused you to zigzag to get from one side of the town to the other. It was a mess.

My house was on the thirteenth ring and luckily the undertaker’s shack was on this side of the town, not the other. It was set off a good distance from the rest of the town and I could make it there in ten minutes at a decent trot. If it weren’t for the roads, I could probably make it in five or less. 


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I arrived at the shack, a small all wooden structure with a stone floor. It was about two ponies square and three high; nothing fancy. It contained a bed, a bookcase, and a table with tools on it. These tools were all we needed to do the undertaker’s job; an ax to gather and split wood, a shovel to dig graves, a hammer, and some nails to make grave markers from split wood. I floated the ax and some nails into my saddlebags, and slipped the shovel through the top of one, since it was too long to actually fit inside. With everything I needed gathered, I set off toward the graveyard close by.

Despite the thousands of dead citizens, our graveyard had barely expanded. The piles of ash around the pyres however, continued to grow. The pyres victims didn’t get markers, there was no way to remember them once they were gone, besides the ash which mixed with the others. I decided to first start digging the graves, since I only needed two.

While the digging wasn’t all that taxing on me, since I was a unicorn, I really wondered how Rust, an earth pony, managed so well at this job. He either hid his exhaustion well, or he was stronger and tougher than he looked. For him digging a grave would take around an hour each. For me, it took roughly fifteen minutes, thanks to my magic. It would take me only thirty minutes to dig these two graves.

By my calculations, however, I finished a bit faster than that. I stabbed the shovel in the ground, since we would need it here later anyway. I turned my attention to getting wood for the grave markers and the pyre, so I galloped to the forest which was a short ways away.

The forest had seen better days. It was never that big to begin with, and Rust failed to replant any of the trees after he cut them down. I start doing just that, but since they take years to grow the forest was slowly shrinking. Depending on the size of the tree, one would last us only a week or more. Today, I was fresh out of wood, so I had to cut another down. I found a decently sized one and began to hack at it.

Again, I wondered how Rust had managed doing this. It took me only minutes to cut through and fall the tree. I cut a few branches off of the tree and chopped them into manage pieces. I levitated those over near the stump. I floated one onto the stump and chopped it in half, then chopped one so it was shorter than the other, and finally cut each half so that they were each flat on each side. I took both of these pieces and made a cross, using the hammer and some nails to connect them. Lastly, I cut the bottom of the cross so that it was a point. I repeated this process to make a second cross.

With the crosses complete, I swung the ax into the stump and took the crosses back to the graves I dug previously. I thrust the crosses’ points into the ground just above the grave and used the hammer to pound each securely into the ground. The graves were now mostly complete; we just had to bury the bodies. The families would be notified and could write on the graves later, if they wanted to. I floated the hammer back into my bag and trotted back into the forest.

I magically pulled out the ax from the stump and began to chop up the other branches on the downed tree, using the stump to split them into more manageable pieces. I slipped the wood into my saddlebags till they were full, at which point I buried the ax back into the stump, and levitated some more wood around me. I could only carry a small amount, but the more I could carry now, the fewer trips I would have to make. I began trotting toward the pyre to start stacking the wood.

While I approached the pyre, my gaze wandered back towards town. I noticed my father pulling a cart behind him. He must have finished his break and decided to bring the corpses here. It was about time. Any longer and I could have taken care of everything myself. I turned my attention back to the pyre. Our pyre consisted of a slightly raised circle of earth, about three ponies in width, on which some wood and the bodies would be placed. Around this circle there was a slight gorge in which more wood would be placed to surround it entirely with flames.

I floated the spare wood I was levitating onto the circular platform and arranged it as flatly as I could across the top. I did the same with the wood in my saddlebags until the platform was covered. After doing that I only have a few logs left, and I magically tossed those into the gorge. It was at this point my father got within talking distance.

“You’re hard working as always Grell! Dug the graves, made the markers, and even started on the pyre! Good work, son. Did I really take that long?”

“No father, I just work fast. I have had a decent amount of practice at it, you know,” Crap. Why did I say that? Now he is going to give me one of his worried looks and speeches. But, thinking quickly I added, “Go ahead and lay the clean ponies in the graves, I am going to get more wood for the pyre.” I told him, as I began trotting towards the forest.

“Ah…Ok. I will see you in a while then, Grell.” He replied. Speech dodged.

When I was halfway to the forest I looked back at him. He was doing as I said, and was levitating the two clean ponies into the graves to bury, but he still had an unsettling look on his face. He worried about me too much, but I still loved him. He was both my father and teacher, after all. I reached the newly fallen tree and began collecting more wood.


===============~*~=============


When I returned father had finished burying the two clean ponies and had piled the diseased corpses on the pyre. I took the logs I had with me and placed them in the gorge surrounding the platform. I had just enough to complete the pyre. My father stood watching as I backed away from the pyre and walked to his side.

“Is it ready Grell?” My father asked, his voice was full of sorrow.

“Yea, it is ready whenever you are.” I told him. He nodded to me, and slowly trotted up to the pyre.

Sawblade stood at the edge of the gorge and looked over the pyre. He breathed a sigh and lowered his horn to the wood in the gorge. His horn lit up with a flash and then sparks came out, showering over the logs. They slowly caught fire and began to burn brilliantly as he walked back to my side and turned to stare at the pyre with me. He always got depressed while watching the pyres. I told him many times he could go back to the house and I would make sure it burned out safely, but he would always decline my offer. As I drifted into thought, father bowed his head and began to prey.

“Oh Gods in the Stars above, I ask you to look over these souls as they make their way to you. I beg your forgiveness in defiling their corpses so. As much as it pains me, a proper burial was impossible. Watch over the families and loved ones of these poor souls who had to depart before their time. I pray to the two Gods which look over us each day and every night. This plague on our land continues to take a terrible toll. I pray thee and your thousands of brothers and sisters, bring about a swift end to this plague. Guide the souls of those who died from it, and see that they are happy in the afterlife.”

He always said a similar prayer each time we lit the pyre and watched the corpses’ burn. I suppose it was as much for his benefit as it was for theirs. I bowed my head a quiet respect to those who died. The Church of Stars and the thousands of gods they worshiped…If they truly existed, they would have stepped in by now, right? I cannot say that I still follow my father’s religion, but I can at least understand the need to pay respect to the dead.

We continued watching the pyre until the ashes of the logs combined with those of the pony corpses’ ashes and the fires burned themselves out. We gave one last moment of silence to the dead and then turned to head back home. It was still only mid-afternoon as we trotted back home in silence.


===============~*~=============


Mother and Lyric were busy with housework, so mother had asked me to go into town and do some shopping. I threw on my saddlebags and got the list of what to buy from her. She kissed me on the horn and thanked me for running the errand. I said it was my pleasure, smiling slightly at her. Work had finished early, and there was little else to do, so I was glad for the distraction.

I left our house and began trotting towards the town center. The sun was beginning to go down, but I still had plenty of light left to get the shopping done. I could even dawdle a little and could still make it before dark. Nothing on the list was needed right away anyhow, so speed was not necessary.

As I walked towards the center of town, I noticed how very empty the streets were. I was only a few blocks from town square and I still hadn’t encountered anypony. Even months ago the streets were busy and filled with ponies going about their business. But now the streets were lined with boarded up houses, whole families having died out due to The Plague. 
The whole town was becoming a place of ruin. Empty and abandoned houses littered it, and no new ponies moved in to fill the gaps. The houses began to become dilapidated and hazardous. It was sad to see the town in which I grew up in such a state. It made me remember how horrible the times we now live in are.

As I neared the town center, the last bastion of liveliness in our town, I caught a glimpse of a white coated mare with a pink mane. Her name is Candy, and she was the daughter of the town’s sweet maker. She was a beautiful mare, and was always cheerful, despite the gloominess of the town around us. And she herself has learned to make sweets from her father. Her sweets are delicious and have a unique decoration which represents her personality. They are one of the few things in this world left that are able to spread happiness. And she hands them out freely to those who cannot pay. She is truly a beacon of hope in this darkness.

I have fancied her for a while, and luckily none in her family have been stricken with The Plague. I have never made my feeling for her known, however. Being surrounded by death, in a rapidly dying town, kind of ruins the romantic mood. If The Plague should ever be cured, and this terror ends…if we both survive it…I want to tell her that I love her. But…The way things are going…My hope of doing that is draining.

Ah, I’m getting distracted. I shouldn’t dwell on such depressing things at the moment. Today was a good day; perhaps The Plague is dying out? I can at least try to have hope, I suppose. I returned to my task and purchased what mother asked me to. With the state of the town, prices change all the time. Some things have run out and other things are running low. It strains our budget, but some things are simply necessary. With the supplies gathered, I returned home for the night.


===============~*~=============


For weeks things continued in a similar fashion. The sun would rise each day and the Mourner would give their speech. The dead would be brought out and taken to our clinic. My father and I would inspect the bodies, slice them open, sew them up, and then dispose of them properly. And the sun would set. However, my hope that The Plague was dying out was quickly dashed. The bodies started coming in mass. A day didn’t go by where there wasn’t over 100 dead. One day peaked at 197 deaths. Our town’s remaining population of 5,261 rapidly declined to 2,116 remaining ponies.

A week into this large number of deaths, the stallion who pulled the corpse wagon died himself. And so my father took over for him and the wagon became ours. He would wake up hours earlier than usual just so he could collect the bodies. It took its toll on him. He became exhausted, running some days on only a few hours of sleep. His usual chipper and carefree attitude changed into a gloomy daze and he rarely talked. I didn’t realize until then just how much my father meant to me. I always loved him, yes. But now, seeing how this sudden changed completely altered his personality…It was hard to see. Instead of greeting me in the mornings with a happy joke, he just gave me a defeated nod.

The monotony of this was ended one night when a Pegasus buck fell from the sky. The fall had broken his neck and his body was taken to our clinic. It was…strange. I had never examined the body of a Pegasus before. Our town was mostly earth ponies and a few unicorns, no pegasi. All pegasi belonged to the Sky Flotilla, the kingdom of the pegasi up in the clouds. Seeing one for myself was odd. For a group of ponies who think they are above all others, they certainly seem as normal as us.

Since he arrived in our clinic after our work for the day had completed, both my father and I had the chance to look him over. Rumors floated around that the pegasi were immune to The Plague and thus only we beings confined to the ground were dying. I was curious to see if this was true or not. His body was bloody enough that it looked as though he had The Plague. However, that could be contributed to the fall. So after a slight outer examination we decided to cut him open.

I did the honors in cutting him open and exposing his insides, same procedure as the others. My father and I gazed at the insides of the Pegasus buck. Before our eyes we saw that the rumor was just that, a rumor. His organs were blackened, ruptured, and bloody. Sure, the fall could have caused some internal damage, but nothing on the scale we were looking at. He had The Plague; that much was certain. And if the pegasi in the sky, safely above the diseased world below, could catch and die from The Plague…the hope of survival took a downward plunge. We had seen enough and quickly sewed him back up. It was late, so instead of burning his body today we just put him in the storage room. We would burn his body tomorrow, with the others.

After father and I cleaned up the clinic and ourselves, it was already time for us to sleep. It had been a long day, and the Pegasus buck had given us some short lived excitement. I bid my father good night and we went to our rooms and prayed to the Stars that the number of dead would be low tomorrow.

…He shouldn’t have gone to bed that night.