//------------------------------// // Macabre // Story: The Marked Ones // by Final Draft //------------------------------// The door at the top of the stairs only opened four times a day; three times for meals, and once for Teacher to come give the younger ones their lessons. These actions occurred at the same time every day, likely since long before my arrival. After so many years of this routine, I’d developed the ability to predict the door opening down to the minute. There wasn't much else to do in that prison cell. I'd eat my meals, and lie on my bed of straw until the next time the door opened. Exactly sixty minutes after the second meal, the door would open a third time, and Teacher would carefully make her way down, escorted by two of the Royal Guards. It always seemed a bit unnecessary to have the guards accompany Teacher. We were behind bars, bound in some additional way. The marked earth ponies were kept in magically reinforced cages, the marked pegasi had their wings bound by magic shackles, and the marked unicorns—like myself—had our horns removed, preventing us from using magic. Besides, none of us would try to hurt Teacher. She was the only one who ever cared about us. At least, that's how I felt. I'd reached the point where her lessons no longer benefited me. I knew my ABCs, I could perform simple mathematics, and I knew the history of Equestria up until my imprisonment. Yet, still I listened. When she would finally close her book and walk back up those stairs, most would sigh in relief, but not I. I liked to learn, which ironically is part of why I was marked. Once the door closed behind her and the guards, I would continue to practice the lessons until the door opened again for third meal. After third meal, the door would remain closed until the next day, where the cycle would repeat. Only on the rarest occasion did the door open a fifth time. When it did happen, most of us Marked Ones were asleep. The screams and cries of a young filly or colt (usually colt) would echo across the stone walls as they were escorted down the stairs by two or more guards. I liked to wonder what the pony's special talent was. Was it setting fires? Was it strangling? Or were they like me? Regardless of their special talent, it was deemed to be non-contributive to society. Whether it was purely symbolic or actually did anything, the pony would first be marked by a red-hot branding iron. It must only be symbolic; removing a pony's cutie mark, covering it with a layer of scar tissue on either flank. I know it didn't change me. After being marked, the pony would be thrown into a vacant cell and left for the night, to cry and keep the rest of us awake. That is, unless they were a unicorn. If that were the case, then Celestia herself would have descended the stairs with her guards. I remember when she removed my horn, and how I got to look into her eyes. There was no malice, no hate, no loathing—only disappointment. As if her eyes were asking, "Why? Why did you make me do this? Why couldn't you have been normal?" Define "normal". One clean slice with her magic cut through my horn and it fell to the floor, leaving me nothing more than a mutated earth pony. It didn't hurt, but I screamed louder than when the brand sank into my flesh. Then I was tossed into the cell, and cried myself to sleep. No one tried talking to me, to tell me everything was going to be okay. The other Marked Ones simply rolled over and tried to fall back to sleep. It's the same thing I would go on to do every time that door ever opened a fifth time. There wasn't a thing you could say to make it any easier anyway. That was Teacher's job. I don't know how old Teacher was when I received her first lesson, but she had that kind, old pony voice; knowledgeable and understanding. For all the years I'd been there, she showed up at the same time every day with the same cheerful tone. I'd often wondered if she had a special somepony. Then came the day she didn't show up: the day the door only opened three times. It made the time between second and third meal seem like an eternity. I wondered if she was dead, or if she had possibly reached the age where she could no longer perform her duties. Alone with my thoughts, I cried for the first time since my arrival. The next day, the door opened four times, but the third—Teacher's usual lesson time—came almost an hour after it should have. At first, I thought it was Teacher, and she would start her lesson as if nothing had happened the prior day. I listened closely to the hooves coming down the stairs, and knew that that assumption was wrong. There were only two sets of hooves descending the stairs instead of the usual three. My cell was at the base of the stairs, and the bars were back far enough in the stone to where I could never actually see the door. The guards and Teacher would walk past me every time they entered or left, allowing me a brief glimpse before they were out of my view. The hooves descending the stairs walked slowly, deliberately taking their time reaching the bottom. I could hear the two whispering to each other, as if they were concerned about us hearing their conversation. The whispering stopped as the two stepped in front of my cell. Their backsides were to me as they looked out at the other cells. They were both alicorns, but one was much larger than the other. I recognized the large one as Princess Celestia, but wondered who her companion was. Possibly a new teacher? They stood there, and the smaller alicorn looked around in every direction except right behind her. She seemed…confused…almost fearful of her surroundings. Celestia, of course, kept completely still, staring at a fixed spot on the opposite wall. Me? I took in the sight of the unfamiliar mare, analyzing every little detail I cold see. She was lavender, with a purple tail that had a streak of magenta thrown into it. Her flanks were close enough for me to touch, and I studied her cutie mark. It was a glorious series of stars, all set around one large one. Oh, how I envied it. I wanted to touch her, to reach out and get her attention, to get her to turn around so I could see her beautiful face. I wanted to see what lay south of the horn sticking from the top of her head. "Who are these ponies?" she asked. Her voice only intensified my attraction to her. It was beautiful, and I imagined what it would sound like should she sing. Or what my own name would sound like in her voice. "Macabre…Macabre…" "These are ponies who cannot function in normal society," Celestia answered. "W-what do you mean?" my lavender love asked. It was a question I had yet to receive an answer for, or at least an answer that I was willing to accept. We were seen as threats to other ponies, and in some cases, ourselves. Our special talents—the things that make us "unique"—could never be utilized for good. And that is how Celestia worded it to the mare. "Usually, the cutie mark will appear before any serious damage is done, and the filly or colt can be identified as a threat. We then bring them here, to ensure the safety of our citizens." "I'm…I'm just not sure this is the right thing to do. They're still ponies!" The mare was upset, and I could feel the heat radiating off of her. Celestia remained unmoved, and turned to look at the mare. I could see both their faces now, yet their eyes were fixed on each other. "There's no rehabilitating them, Twilight. A cutie mark is a destiny that cannot be altered. You know that better than most." Twilight, oh what a lovely name for a lovely mare. "We have saved Equestria a number of "Sombras" with this process, and I'm trusting you'll do what's right." Suddenly, both of them were looking at me, and I imagined what they must have seen: a thin, blue stallion with the base of a horn poking through his matted black mane—a stallion that had been locked up since he was a colt for doing something he was born to do—a stallion that longed to go out and do it again… They quickly looked away from me (similar to how all the fillies in pre-school had when they caught me staring). Celestia extended her wing and draped it over Twilight's back in a gesture of compassion. "Mrs. Chalk Dust will be returning soon, but until she does, I ask that you teach her lessons." "Lessons?" Twilight asked. "If they can't be rehabilitated, why teach them at all?" They'd looked at me, so I knew they knew I was there. "I want to learn," I said through the bars. My voice came out shaky, and I wasn't sure if either of them even heard me. "No matter the circumstances, no pony should be denied an education," Celestia replied, turning to walk up the stairs. She'd heard me, but hadn't cared enough to acknowledge it. Her tail was already out of sight when Twilight turned to follow. I wanted this mare by the name of Twilight to just look at me once more before she left. I put my left hoof up against the bars of my cell and held it there. Celestia's hoof steps continued to get more distant, but Twilight remained rooted at the foot of the stairs. At last, she finally turned to look at me, and her eyes focused on my hoof. Slowly, she lifted her hoof and brought it closer to mine. Some level of uncertainty showed in her face, and just as she was about to close the gap, she pulled back. She turned quickly from my cell and hurried to catch up to Celestia. The door at the top closed, and the light that had been streaming in vanished. I didn’t even eat at third meal. My mind was so distracted by thoughts of Twilight that I didn't feel I needed to. I wanted to be with her, to hold her, to smell her, to taste her…to see her on the inside. The next morning, I regretted not eating at third meal. By the time first meal showed up, I had been listening to my stomach growl for nearly three hours. I ate so quickly that I ended up sick. Perhaps it was the butterflies in my stomach, for I knew it was a matter of hours until she came back. The second meal came and went, and I began counting the moments until the door would open. Would she follow the same schedule as Teacher? Would she be teaching something new? I couldn't wait, and I pressed my face against the bars of my cell, trying for the millionth time to see the door at the top of the stairs. Finally, when it opened, my heart was pounding in my ears, and I could barely hear how many sets of hooves were approaching. One guard—a unicorn, of course—passed by my cell without a glance inside. Next, Twilight sauntered past, levitating a few books in her magical aura. The second her scent hit my nose, I nearly collapsed from euphoria. A second guard—an orange pegasus—followed her closely behind, and he looked into my cell. His eyes narrowed when he saw me so close to the bars, and I could tell he was wary. I held my ground, and he continued to stare as he walked past. His early distrust of me didn't save him in the end. Twilight moved to the center of the large room, just outside of my field of view, and I heard the books land on a wooden surface. Teacher must have had a desk set up in the middle of the room, but I had never seen it. There came the sound of rustling pages, and then a brief silence. "H-hello," Twilight's voice echoed through the cells. "My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle, and I'll be filling in for Mrs. Chalk Dust." The Marked Ones remained silent. Teacher had never addressed us directly before—or even told us her name for that matter. One of the guards mumbled something, and Twilight responded with, "Oh, sorry." Probably telling her she shouldn't treat us like real ponies. Probably telling her just to get on with the lecture so they could go back to their normal duties. "Um, I don't know where you left off in your studies, so I'll just start with basic addition and subtraction." I'd been through the topic almost seven times already. Every time the door opened a fifth time, and another Marked One joined the collection, Teacher would have to start over from the very beginning the next day. I'd get to hear about counting to a hundred, and the difference between to, too, and two, and how Celestia banished her sister to the moon. We never made it past advanced Math, Language, or History before a new Marked One made us start over. There was so much more I wanted to learn, especially science. "Can any pony tell me what two plus two is?" Twilight asked. Her question was met with complete silence. Teacher never asked us questions because she knew everything. How did Twilight expect to teach us if she didn't know what two plus two was? "It's four," I said quietly. I hoped Twilight wasn't embarrassed, or that she wouldn't get angry at me for knowing something she didn't. Her response was not at all what I expected. "Correct!" she said with enthusiasm. I was confused. If she knew the answer, why did she ask? Once again, I heard a guard whispering to her. "What?" she asked, confused. "Then how will they learn?" More whispering. The orange pegasus guard walked over and placed himself in front of my cell without a word. I tried to look past him, but there was nothing to see anyway. Teacher's desk was too far away to see. I could clearly hear Twilight, however, rustling through pages. "Um, okay," she said after some delay. "Two plus two equals four. Two plus three equals five. Three plus three equals six. Three plus four equals seven…" It was just how Teacher had taught, but I felt disconnected. Having been asked a question and correctly giving the answer was exhilarating. I'd been marked too early into my formal education to really know what school was like. Perhaps other teachers taught the way Twilight did? As the math lecture went on, I silently mouthed the answers as Twilight read the problems aloud. "Five plus five equals—" Ten. "—ten. Five plus six equals—" Eleven. "—eleven. Six plus six equals—" "Twelve," I said aloud. The guard turned to look at me, but Twilight continued on. "Thirteen," I said at the same time she had reached the answer to six plus seven. "Fourteen," I said louder to seven plus seven. At that point, Twilight heard my answers echoing her own, and began taking pauses to let me finish the problems. "Eight plus eight equals…?" "Sixteen," I responded. Twilight must have smiled, in fact, I know she smiled at hearing me respond every time, and correctly! I answered two more before the guard outside my cage trotted out of my view and Twilight stopped speaking. I can understand why the guards were so uncomfortable around us Marked Ones. Most of them knew what our "unfavorable" talents were, and they had seen what lay beneath the scars on our flanks. When we did anything aside from sleeping, eating, and listening to Teacher it set the guards on edge. The whispering continued for a few moments and then I heard the sound of a book being clapped shut. Was the lecture already over? "The dog can run fast," Twilight's wonderful voice said. "In this example, dog is the noun." Her voice, as wonderful as it was, had become monotone, as if she were reluctantly reading the phrases. I could find no way to contribute, so I sat on my haunches and listened. I closed my eyes and envisioned Twilight—Princess Twilight—Sparkle's lips as they formed each and every word, each and every syllable. The hour passed by, and I remained completely content just to listen. When it was over though, and Twilight began packing up her books, I opened my eyes to see the pegasus guard glaring at me. He must not have liked seeing me smile. "Come along, Princess, let's get you out of here," the guard said, looking at me. It wasn't the last time he'd look at me, but it was the last time he'd look at me like that. He turned from me as Twilight approached, and he seemed determined to block as much of my cell as possible. To my surprise, Twilight nudged past him to look in at me. The look of uncertainty she'd had the night before was replaced with a sort of morbid curiosity. I imagine it's how I looked when I found my first dead bird. "Ten plus ten equals…?" she asked slowly. It was directed to me, and me alone, not any pony else. "One hundred," I answered confidently. I realized the mistake I'd made almost immediately, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach fly up to my throat and get caught there. The guard laughed—not a full guffaw, but a quick chuckle. I'd remember it when I was ripping his wings off. "No," Twilight said with a sickening amount of empathy, "that's ten times ten." But then she closed her eyes and smiled, saying, "We'll work on it." And with that, she allowed the guards to lead her up the stairs, and the door closed behind them. I just wanted to die, right there. Ten plus ten is twenty—I know that! I've always known that! Why did I screw up everything?! I threw my body against the cold, stone wall at the back of my cell, heaving against it. The pain from the impact wasn’t enough, so I did it again, only harder. One hundred?! Are you serious?! She thinks you're just another psychopathic imbecile! And that guard? I bet he'd have to look at his hooves to count to four! Another slam against the wall and the rest is blank. An unknown amount of time later, I awoke to the sound of the door opening. Third meal, I thought, but the angry butterflies had decided to take up residence in my stomach again, killing my appetite. I rolled over to look out of my cell, feeling the throbbing pain in my eyes from my impact with the wall. Slowly, my eyes adjusted, and I saw something blurry a few inches from my face. It was a plate with a few wilted leaves of lettuce on it. That meant third meal had already come and gone. I perhaps too quickly stood up and tried to see out my cell for the one-million-and-one-th time. If the door had opened a fifth time, it meant there was a new arrival. But it was far too quiet to be a new arrival. Everyone screamed. Everyone cried. No exceptions. From what I could tell, only a single set of hooves were descending the stairs. Maybe a castle servant had wandered down by mistake, but that wouldn't make any sense, I'm sure they keep that door extremely guarded. And then I smelled it; that already-familiar fragrance that only emanated from one particular pony. Her head peered around the corner and into my cell, her eyes opening wider when they saw me already looking at her. It startled her, but it did not scare her away. "Hello, um, you remember me from earlier?" she asked. "You're Princess Twilight Sparkle," I answered. "And ten plus ten is twenty." She smiled and my heart nearly leapt from my chest. Cautiously, she centered herself in front of my cell, allowing me full view of her. Her wings were tucked neatly at her sides, and something was tucked beneath one of them. "May I ask your name?" she asked. It had been so long since I'd spoken my own name, I had almost forgotten how to form the syllables. "Macabre. My name is Macabre." Maybe my parents had sensed what my calling in life had been from the moment I was born. Maybe I merely did what I did because of the name. I have no way of knowing. "How long have you been down here, Macabre?" Oh, it was as good as I imagined, hearing her say my name. "A very long time," I responded. In all honesty, I didn't know. As good as I was at keeping track of how many times the door opened every day, I was not so good at keeping track of how many days the door had opened. She nodded and bit onto her lower lip, looking to the side. There was one question she wanted to ask more than anything, but wasn't sure if she should. I knew she would ask, and I was willing to answer if she only stayed to talk a little longer. "Why," she started, "why were you…marked?" I turned and looked at my flank. It was so long ago the branding iron had sunk into my flesh, that I couldn't remember what the scars were even covering. I think my cutie mark had been of a bird…or most of a bird. In fact, yes, I remember now! It was a bird with its wings spread and its breast torn open in perfect symmetry. "Why were you marked?" I asked, trying to prolong our conversation. She had come unaccompanied, and all the other Marked Ones were asleep or pretending to be. It was just her and I. My question confused her, so I pointed to her flank. Realization spread across her face and she smiled. "Oh, how did I get my cutie mark, you mean?" I nodded, waiting for her to continue. "I was just a filly when I got this," she said, pressing her flank against the bars of my cell (Close enough to touch!). She went on to explain about a pegasus performing something called a sonic rainboom, then some stuff about a dragon, and some more stuff about Princess Celestia. I listened, but she spoke so fast that it was hard to keep up. Her story sounded so amazing, and I didn't want to follow it up with mine. When she finished, she stared at me expectantly. "Will you tell me now why you're in here?" she asked quietly. "Didn't Celestia tell you?" I asked. "We can't function in society. There's no rehabilitating us." "That is what Celestia told me, yes, but I refuse to believe that." She paused and then moved her face closer to my cell. "Do you believe you can be rehabilitated?" Did I? Did I honestly think I could change, that I could repress these primal urges I'd been feeling since I was a foal? Looking into Twilight's eyes, I could see there was only one answer she wanted to hear. Before I could give her that answer, her brain had finished analyzing the response I'd given her previous question. "And I asked why you're here, not everyone else," she said with a hint of agitation. "Maybe you're different from the rest of them, maybe you’re here by accident." I wanted to laugh. I knew full well I belonged in there after the things I'd done. Nope! No mistakes here, except they should have done it much sooner! Little Windy Loo surely would have benefited from it! Suddenly, I felt my hoof raise up, and I saw Twilight had reached through the bars and taken hold of it. "And even if there's something you did, it's in your past," she said, staring at me with an intense gaze. "There's good in every pony, and you can change." Who was she trying to convince? Me or herself? I looked at our hooves and then up at her. "You want to know how I got my cutie mark?" I asked. "Yes," she said, subconsciously retracting her hoof through the bars. The absence of her touch was almost unbearable. I wanted to reach through the bars and pull her in with me, and I think she saw that. She took a step back as she awaited my answer. "If it will make you happy," I said, lying down on the floor. To my surprise, Twilight spun around and curled up on the floor just outside my cell. Our faces were level, separated only by the bars. The object tucked beneath her wing finally came out, and she placed it on the ground between us. It was a book, but all the pages were blank. "I'm going to write everything down so I can call back on it later, okay?" she asked, removing a quill and inkwell from I-don't-know-where. "I want to know everything." "Everything about how I got my cutie mark?" I asked again for clarification. "From the beginning." I didn't want to lie to Twilight. Telling her about how I got my cutie mark was much easier than telling her about how I was marked. They are, after all, two completely different stories.