Dear Princess Celestia,
It’s me… Pinkie Pie. I’m sorry, but something has happened here in Ponyville because of me… and I wanted to tell you what I’ve done before you hear it from anypony else.
It may be a lot to take in; things go on in my head that I just… can’t describe. There’s this darkness that always lingers in the back of my mind. That’s why I spend all my time trying to distract myself from it, by throwing parties and being active and always doing something.
I’m afraid of being left alone with my thoughts. That’s when she appears. My other side. She conjures these dark, disturbing thoughts that scare me. There’s always blood. Somepony dies. I will stand there with a knife raised over one of my friends. These thoughts scare me so much and I… just want to hide.
They started sixteen years ago…
I was five, working on the rock farm with Maud and Inkie. I remember I was on top of a large boulder and I fell onto my head. There was blood everywhere. I would have died if it weren’t for Maud. She carried me all the way home on her back, but I didn’t remember because I had passed out. When I woke up I was in a hospital bed… all alone.
I imagined that something was about to come and get me. Cause me more pain than I was in. These voices started creeping into my head saying, “Pinkie… I’m gonna get you…”
When the doctor came in, I thought it was the creature coming to get me. I panicked and threw something at him. I can’t remember what it was, but it was something sharp. He was crying in pain and bleeding profusely from his neck. Other doctors rushed in at his cry and led him out.
I explained what happened and they said he forgave me when they passed the news. But, I found out later that week, just before I was fine enough to leave, that they had lied to me. I overheard a couple nurses talking in the hall when a doctor accidently left the door open. The doctor had died minutes after leaving the room.
I could still picture his face, contorted in pain. I could still hear his scream. I could still smell his blood. I was a murderer.
Life was difficult after that. Every night, I’d have nightmares about the same event. It played over and over in my mind, until I would wake up screaming. Granny Pie gave me a song about giggling at the ghosties, and it helped to keep my mind off of it. I never let myself think about the doctor’s death. I always found some way to keep away from the thought.
Three years later, I found my great destiny of throwing parties. It was great seeing everypony so happy. I began to throw parties for some of the silliest things, even the smallest of occasions.
But there was one party in particular that I remember from that time.
There were a couple of older ponies who were arguing over something. I didn’t remember inviting them so I kindly asked them to leave. They did, but I wanted to make sure they actually left, so I followed them stealthily. They stopped halfway across the Rock Farm and continued whatever they were arguing about. Then one of them tackled the other. They beat each other mercilessly until one of them decided to bring a rock into the fight. He bashed the other’s head in. I think he must’ve seen me because he ran away.
I buried the bloody body that was left behind, but I never told anypony what I saw. The bones are still there next to the creek that flows next to the west field… It is a testament to the traumas I’ve borne as a filly. But worse has happened since.
I’ve made it my primary goal in life to forget my past, but it always manages to sneak back up on me every time I think it has finally gone. When I moved to Ponyville at age sixteen, my other side began to create more elaborate and disturbing images. And a certain chain of events led to a new obsession.
When the Cakes let me move into the apartment upstairs, I suddenly found myself with a lot more time alone. I tried to avoid it by helping the Cakes whenever they needed help and going out to meet new friends in Ponyville when they didn’t. But… it’s hard to find company at night in your own room, laying in the dark. At least at the Rock Farm I had three sisters sleeping nearby. I knew I couldn’t tell them all I knew, but just their presence helped keep the thoughts at bay. But I didn’t have that here. I was utterly alone…
As I lay there, the shadows on the walls would form silhouettes of demonic creatures. I would see them go into my shadow; then my shadow would rise and destroy the silhouette of an innocent little filly. I closed my eyes to block it out. But I could still hear the sound of screams echoing in my mind. Even plugging my ears couldn’t stop it.
After a month of these incessant dreams, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I rose from my bed in the middle of the night terror and went down to the kitchen where I found the prettiest tool I had ever seen. It was a knife, razor sharp, and glimmering in the moonlight streaming through the window. I picked it up and looked at my reflection, surprised to see her...
I decided to name her Pinkamena, after myself of course. I called her that because that was the name that I had discarded when I moved to Ponyville to escape my past. She was everything I wish I wasn’t. She was my darkness, my sins, and worst of all… my secrets.
After I found her, I knew she was always near. Nopony else ever knew where she was, but I knew. She was watching, waiting, and prying against my sanity, wishing out the immense guilt she knew lay deep within my mind. I felt her tugging at every string in my heart to end my own life… but I never let her kill me. But she did hurt me…
I slid the cool steel slowly across my forehoof, feeling blood well up in its wake. The pain felt somehow… comforting. It was like offering up a tiny bit of my life to the demons I created in my head. Kind of like paying for my darkest sins.
Eventually, it became a habit. I would feel the blade slip across my wrists, and then I could rest for another three or four days, before Pinkamena came back, demanding more. I even bought my own knife. It had a black blade, symbolizing the darkness that I was cutting out of myself. This sustained me for a long time, preserving my sanity…
Then I turned eighteen. I now had more scars than one could count, unnoticed because of my pink fur. I was in the middle of my ritual, gazing blankly at myself in the bathroom mirror, and slit my wrist wrong. In two years, I never made this fatal mistake. Blood was pouring out profusely. I grabbed a towel and pressed it against the gushing wound and called for help.
Pinkamena was laughing. She had done this to me. I felt dizzy, and felt myself fall to the floor unconscious. I dreamt I was floating in this dark void. Above me was a white light; below me was a red light. The gates of Heaven and Hell. Pinkamena was there. She took my hoof in hers and started leading me to the red light. I struggled against her, but she kept on dragging me down.
But then I was shocked out of the dark void. Some doctor was standing above me, levitating a set of defibrillators. He had saved me from Hell. I owed him my life, but I was also afraid. The memory of my first experience echoed in my mind, and Pinkamena whispered in my ear, “Kill him…”
I stood abruptly, knocking him aside. I had to get out! However, I wasn’t ready for such a feat, and fell against the sink, knocking the knife off the counter and onto the floor.
“Sit down!” the doctor told me. I obeyed, sitting on the floor, with the knife sitting just in front of
me. It was still glistening with my blood, though it had to be sticky and congealed by that time. It would be so easy just to kill him and walk away, Pinkamena satisfied, and my mind safe for a much longer time than the average four days.
But I knew the Cakes were probably downstairs, worried sick about me. I needed to get away from them first. It would be worth the trouble to have a month free of Pinkamena’s torturing thoughts and dreams. What would it matter if I ended one more pony’s life? It would keep little fillies and colts safe from my unstable mind, wouldn’t it?
Apparently, he hadn’t noticed that the knife had fallen to the floor, so I inconspicuously hid it in my mane and pretended to be worse off than I was. It wasn’t long before I was on a stretcher heading towards the ambulance. I had it all worked out in my head.
He put me in the back of the vehicle, and climbed in behind me. When the driver started moving and the doctor began to check on me, I grabbed him by the mane and stabbed him in through the eye. Before he could scream, I slashed through his neck so hard the head was only hanging on by a few tendons and his spine. The blood had splattered everywhere and gotten all over the bed. I opened the ambulance door and threw him out the back while we were crossing a bridge. Then I used the knife to cut a large gash in my shoulder. Why? Because, when the driver got back there, I told him that the doctor had attacked me and I killed him in self-defense. And, as a bonus, they never found the body.
I was stitched up and brought back home within the week. And Pinkamena was pleased. I went almost a whole year without ever seeing her again. I even got a pet alligator to keep me company. Of course I had to pull out all his teeth though, or he would’ve made a terrible pet, but it was nice to have a creature that killed for sustenance and life… just like me.
But, when my friends all abandoned me on Gummy’s After Birthday Party, Pinkamena showed up again. She was as upset as I was about my friends’ “betrayal”. I know that they hadn’t actually betrayed me in the end, but I didn’t know that. So I did something awful. Something I never told them I did. I had started coming up with an elaborate plan, where I would get to grotesquely dismember and torture all five of them, one at a time.
I could saw off Twilight’s horn, rip off Dashie’s wings, make a dress out of Rarity’s coat, make cider of Applejack’s blood, and feed Fluttershy to a pack of ravenous timberwolves. I could tell
Pinkamena was excited. But, I never went through with it. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it after I found out their real intentions. That’s when Pinkamena broke my sanity and drove me to talking with bags of flour and a stack of rocks. So I had to feed her again… and Pinkamena wanted a feast…
I turned twenty-one three days ago. I had kept Pinkamena at bay with my old ritual of wrist-slitting (being extra careful). I had developed the most glorious plan. I figured, if I could kill as many as I could at once, maybe Pinkamena would finally leave me alone. So, today, I did what I do best to lure ponies to me: I threw a party. There was cake, which was poisoned, punch, that was actually acid, and even a bomb that was disguised as a disco-ball. I locked them all in and made my escape, praying that my demons would finally be full after this grand performance.
I heard the explosion… and then it hit me. The gravity of the situation suddenly weighed on top of me like a million suns. I could feel each and every death. Every one of them was my fault. And something I learned about demons, is they never get full. I went to the bridge over the stream and looked at my reflection, knowing that somewhere down there was a corpse of one of my victims.
I realized at that moment that I was Pinkamena. I was the one who was so hungry for all of these ponies’ deaths. It was all because I wanted to cover up my guilt. It was an accident. I had never meant to kill that first doctor. But I wanted to hide. I wanted to get away from the guilt so bad that I tried to hide death and pay for my mistake with my own blood. And blood was the only payment that could bring me rest…
So, now I sit beneath this tree writing this letter to you. When you will read this, I will be hanging from its branches, my final payment… I’m sorry for all I have done. Pinkamena will never again see the light of day.
Goodbye forever,
Pinkamena Diane Pie