//------------------------------// // War Inside My Head // Story: Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence // by Broseph_Stalin //------------------------------// Chapter III. – War inside My Head: Silver Star "What the horrors of war are, no one can imagine. They are not wounds and blood and fever...They are intoxication, drunken brutality, demoralization and disorder on the part of the inferior..." -Florence Nightingale . . . . As Twilight and Dr. Glass wandered further down the hall, something caught the unicorn's keen eye as she walked down the long corridor. The carpeted grey walls were lined with plaques for doctors and awards for the hospital’s effective application of modern medicines, but this one stood out to her like a tell-tale beacon on a moonless night. Coming closer, she dodged a nurse that was cantering down the hall in some sort of hurry, and looked on a plaque of ebony marble set on dark mahogany. A picture of a stoic-looking soldier stood alone, dressed in the uniform of the Equestrian Marine Corps. Across the side of his head there was a large wound that looked like a nasty burn,and it looked as though his short brown mane would never grow back where the scar zig-zagged across his skull. The kingdom’s flag lay behind him, its bold colors in stark contrast with his sharp, grey suit and tight-lipped grimace. A single silver dog tag sat mounted on the plaque. Twilight spotted the small, rust-colored spot that lay stained upon its polished surface with a curious look. “'Lance Corporal Silver Star,’” she read out loud as the doctor approached her from behind. “'Father, husband, son, and a loyal Marine to the end,’” she read further upon the plaque's inscription. “Yes, he was patient we had here. He was a combat veteran and, as I am told, the bravest stallion his squadron had ever seen. He lived his days like any other pony would want: a family and a simple home in the small town here, far outside the bustling city. A local, he visited once in a while after he complained of nightmares and acute irritability, but he shortly stopped coming. "From what I have learned about him, a fatal attack left every pony in his platoon dead, save for him." Dr glass shook his head morbidly. "Dragging his best friend’s body across a blasted tarmac would certainly leave its fair share of mental scars. It was a very clear-cut case of posttraumatic stress disorder, if I ever saw it,” the doctor said, reminiscing. “As far as I can remember, he had a wife and a filly, but I couldn’t say what became of them.” Blinking back shocked tears that formed over her moon-glass eyes, Twilight brought forth the manual from her pack to distract herself, and flipped absentmindedly to the right page. After scanning over the doctor's described affliction, she settled it back into her pack. “And what happened to him?” she asked a little shakily, without turning her gaze from the stallion’s portrait. “It seems the stress had gotten to him...you could almost say that a literal war raged inside his head. It happened recently, in fact. Not some two weeks ago, we got a letter from the police station stating that the patient had been found dead in his home, as is protocol for all deaths relating to hospital patients. Suicide was the culprit, as a recently fired handgun had been found in his hoof." At this, Twilight gasped aloud. "S-suicide?" her startled voice said as a wave of nausea washed over her. She glanced quickly from the rust-colored spot on the dog tag and back to Dr Glass, who just nodded calmly. "That spot you see there is actually his own blood. The very last blood he spilled for his country, in fact. The police chief, whose son had served with Silver Star some years back himself, showed up with that very same dog tag, retrieved from the poor stallion's body after it had been cleared from use as evidence." He paused, and looked at Twilight curiously. "You seem awfully put-off about that, Ms. Sparkle." Twilight attempted to remove the grimace from her face, but an odd mix of remorse was rocking her stomach in a painful way, and she felt as though her knees were going to lock. "Erm, well doctor," she coughed, "I've never really been around something like this. In fact, I have never heard of a pony committing suicide, much less with a gun." Her face darkened as she felt her insides churn once more. "A product of a sheltered life, I guess?" She laughed awkwardly. Dr. Glass looked over his spectacles at the unicorn before him. "You would be surprised I think, Ms. Sparkle. The world can be a dark place." Twilight nodded, attempting to swallow her nausea. She stared into the stallion’s eyes and felt her mind captured. The pinpricks of ice that glanced out from below the stallion's dress cap seemed to emanate with a power of surety, and with the strength necessary to stand by in such a dark world and watch over his country while other ponies slept soundly. A life cut short before his time... . . . . ...And a mind twisted beyond all recognition by the Horrors of War. What could possibly have happened to him? Napalm… Napalm… Napalm showers! Showed the cowards weren’t there to mess around. Heat exhaustion, mind distortion: a military victory mounted on innocent ground. . . . . Ret. L.Cpl. Star sat up with a blaring shout. The sound reverberated off the walls, hurting his ears as he awoke screaming. His wife, Berry Cream, awoke with a gasp and turned on the lamp right away. She found her husband with his face in his hooves, sobbing, and she comforted him as he shook uncontrollably. “Silver, my love, what’s wrong?” she asked gently. Her husband’s shaking seemed to be calming down at her touch. “Just…a bad dream,” he gasped, wiping his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he added as he saw the look of concern on Berry’s face. Her unkempt mane fell across her shoulders, red and white. “Again?” she sighed. Silver nodded morosely. Both ponies cocked their ears as they heard a foal crying in the other room. “Guess I had better make sure Blue Berry is okay,” Berry sighed as she got out of bed. Silver lay back down, staring up at the ceiling blankly. He knew this wasn’t the first time this had happened, not by a long shot. And it was getting worse. A whisper echoed in his blank mind: A war inside my head… . . . . The next morning, he found the dream still stinging at his consciousness with an animal fear. He tried to shake it clear, but couldn’t jar it from his head. Seated at the breakfast table, he thought back to the sessions he had had at Neighsville Psychiatric, but shook it away. They never seemed to do anything but bring up more and more thoughts that haunted him. He had promptly canceled them, unbeknownst to Berry, who had suggested them in the first place. With a surprising prickle of anger, he finally decided to distract himself in the morning paper. Berry Cream walked in with Blue Berry in one arm and set her in her high chair. “Well hello, my big strong filly,” Silver said to his daughter. She cooed and burbled at his call. Laughing to himself, he glanced over as Berry began to prepare breakfast. A smile spread fast across his face as he realized what an incredibly lucky pony he was to have such a beautiful family, as well as a local manufacturing job near his house in a rural part of Equestria. He finally settled into his paper, smile still etched on his lips. As he opened it, he came across a column on the war that raged in the far east of Equestria. His face dropped slightly as he saw the report of fallen soldiers in the past week: 24,030 had lost their lives fighting so far, and that number was steadily rising. Anger rose up in his mind as he read the drivel that the reporters tried to use to paint a picture of a hopeful war against the imperialistic Griffins. Hearing voices from miles away- the ghosts of his fellow soldiers seemed to scream to him that the idiocy these stupid ponies were writing about wasn’t at all what the war was like. Rage spiked in his mind, hot blood burning his face. He threw down the paper angrily. Berry Cream noticed his frustration. “What’s wrong dear? Apple stocks not rising this quarter?” she joked lightheartedly as she stood whipping a bowl of cream. Silver snapped at her, shouting at the top of his voice; the volume shocked him. He ignored it. “No, you wouldn’t bucking understand. So how about you just shut up and get out of here you stupid cow!” He whipped around to his wife, whose normally tranquil face was modeled in shock. A gruesome, haunting fire burned in his tearing eyes. Berry's voice sat steady as she replied. This had happened before, and she was here to help. The doctor had told her what to do in these situations. “Now, Silver. It’s okay, I promise.” She put as much care and compassion into her words as she could manage, and stepped forward around the counter. Silver jumped up in surprise, more furious than ever, and knocked a plate off the table. As it smashed against the floor with a resounding crack, Blue Berry burst into startled tears, though Silver didn't even notice. Ghosts of the ponies he had shot and killed loomed on his manic mind. He felt the breaking point approach as machine-gun fire screamed away somewhere in the distance. Berry’s form seemed to flow like mercury in his vision, her peaceful features melting away to a demonic mirage. His mind was set to panic as lines and curves turned to jutting skeletal angles. He ran over to the counter, grabbing a knife, and faced the dreaded spectre in front of him. “Don’t! Don’t you dare get near me! Get out!” he screamed hysterically, menacing the gruesome vision. He felt the wood of the knife handle crack in his white-hoofed grip as he waved it wildly. Saying things never said… The world crashed into focus around him with a deafening roar. The knife dropped from his hoof, clattering to the floor. Blue Berry's cries were shrill and high pitched now, not having been attended to. The sink that had been running flowed over dishes in a waterfall's cascade of sound. He realized far too late at what he had just done. “Oh Celestia, Berry, I’m so sorry, I don’t even know where that came from,” he pleaded with her quickly, hoping he sounded as sincere as he was. His face changed quickly to degraded panic as tears sprang up. Berry’s lavender eyes mirrored his as thick drops flowed down her face. “I’m going to go,” she said thickly, and grabbing Blue Berry, left in a hurry out the front door. Silver sat numbly, dumbfounded at what had happened. Seeing shadows in the light of the day... Raging a war inside my head! . . . . Berry Cream didn’t come back. Silver had waited half the day for her, and finally decided to just sit up in his room. He never had gone to work that day, and didn’t particularly plan on doing anything until she got back. He let his mind wander aimlessly. Somewhere, a tractor backfired on its way to the farms at the other end of town. At this, Silver’s mind snapped in at attention and he hit the floor with a resounding thud. His mind sent words to his body. Single, direct orders burned in by reflexive use: Drop. Crawl. Kill. Silver obeyed. What else could he do? He felt his mind back in the jungle as bullets whizzed past his head. Thoughts and visions fired away faster than the machine-guns that screamed in the edges of his estranged mind. Years and years of bloodshed and warfare. Our only mission was to get in and kill. A free vacation of palm trees and shrapnel? Merely trading innocence for psychotic ill. Waging a war inside my head! . . . . The sun had just set, leaving an eerie twilight inside the dark house. Shadows sat twisted and strange within the stallion's room as Silver sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. Faces seemed to claw their way into his sight as he glanced in the direction of darkening corners. He shook his head violently as he tried to clear them away, but they always sat there, watching. He flinched at the sound of hooves on pavement as a pony passed by his house, and let out a shuddering sigh as he looked sidelong at the bed. Next to him sat a revolver. Point-three-thirty-eight magnum caliber, standard issue. A single, gleaming bullet lay next to it. He held his head in his hooves and wept silently, his body wracked with great sobs. Cries seemed to resound to him from beyond this life. The voices of his buddies Tate and Brown Barrel echoed in his empty mind. He sat, weeping harder. More ghostly thoughts raised in his mind. Feeling strangers staring my way. Reading minds never read… Earlier, he had heard the whispers of two ponies right outside his house, on the sidewalk. He had peered, agitated, out the shut blinds. The figures stood not a foot away from each other, just outside the reach of the lamppost’s warm glare. They’re here to kill me! his frenzied mind shouted in protest. He had promptly screamed at them through the crack in the blinds, threatening their lives if they so much as got near his home. He realized with a grimace as they passed into the amber light that they had simply been lovers meeting at twilight’s embrace. Guilt had engulfed his panic-stricken mind. Tasting danger with each word that I say, he had thought morbidly. Raging a war inside my head! shouted the same voice. Thoughts crashed back to the here-and-now. Fumbling, he picked up the revolver, and dropped in the single bullet. The click of the cocked hammer resounded in the empty room. This was the last strain his mind could take, and he heard it moan in strangled anguish. A war inside my head. He laughed bitterly at the idea as he pulled the trigger.