//------------------------------// // Abominable Intentions // Story: The Blade of the Scissors // by Anomal Malvale //------------------------------// The young filly sat alone in the lounge of her parents house. Her parents were out and trusted her to be home alone for about twenty minutes while they bought some food for dinner. Undoubtedly, her parents knew what had happened to their daughter Rarity, as did Sweetie Belle. Her pure, crystal-like tears seemed to dance in the light as they dropped from her eyes, splashing at the end of their fall to Sweetie Belles chest before slowly running down through her fur. “How could Rainbow Dash do that?” Sweetie Belle muttered depressively, her words drifting through the somber, empty room. Or at least it seemed somber and empty to Sweetie Belle; her sister, her idol, dead in the blink of an eye, her company escaping her like a whisper eluding oneself through the wind, once taken for granted, but now never forgotten. This young filly perceived the world around her to be like an encroaching entity composed of pain and misery, encompassing her soul, but never moving in for the kill; just simply leaving her to suffer its depression impressed upon her, and lay in a puddle of bitter tears, slowly flooding her soul with their unrelenting anguish. A quiescent ball of emotion, made almost entirely of depression but tainted with anger, boiled within her heart. Her soul felt dead to its shriveled core, but her body lived on. The mix of colours in Rainbows mane accurately represented the mix of depression, anger, bitterness, betrayal and loneliness Sweetie Belle felt. And Rainbow Dash was one of two mares Sweetie Belle just couldn’t push out of her mind. She stood up and tried to free her mind from its despondent state by going out for a walk. She put a note on the fridge telling her parents what she was doing, then she locked the front door behind herself as she set out down the street. Birds chirped and did somersaults as they soared through the air. Flowers blossomed in the gardens around her as the suns light stretched over the landscape, welcoming everypony with its warmth. Butterflies danced in the air and squirrels sauntered over freshly cut lawns and up into trees to feast on the nuts they’d collected. But Sweetie Belle couldn’t enjoy any of this. She couldn’t enjoy the beauty of the flora and fauna around her. Her depression had buried itself into her mind, grasping her emotions with its jagged claws and flooding her soul with grievous tears. The slight remembrance of Rarity filled her with the deepest feeling of anguish and suppressed all positive emotions, causing her to enter an intensely forlorn state of mind. She turned and trotted up a narrow street, her despair evident in the manner of which she walked. Her hooves hit the pavement softly, yet in a hollow way, expressing her lugubrious attitude. She ambled up this street, tears beginning to drip from her eyes as she stopped and stared up the street. The Carousel Boutique stood before her, about twenty feet away. She began to tremble with sorrow. Tears drained from the fillys as she turned and galloped up the road. She raced around a corner and sprinted up a street, desperately trying to get away from not only a place that gave her such a vivid memory of Rarity, but also the place of Raritys murder; the last place Rarity lived in this world before having her life ruthlessly taken from her and extinguished forever. A young stallion had to jump out of the way as Sweetie Belle barged through, making a prodigious commotion as tears rained from her eyes like a storm of pain, her wailing acting as the thunder and her hooves striking the pavement as the lightning. She was blinded by the copious amount of tears flooding her eye sockets and staining the pure, white fur upon her face. She ran full-force into somepony, knocking them a few feet away as Sweetie Belle tripped on something they dropped. She collapsed to the ground and her head skidded across the concrete, scraping and bloodying her young face, exposing a few trickles of blood, but mostly just leaving scrapes which would heal soon after. It didn’t hurt too much, but Sweetie Belle just felt like lying there; staying there on the ground forever, slowly decaying into nothing. She’d almost lost the will to live. “Are you ok?” a female voice said worryingly. Sweetie Belle turned her head and gazed up at the mare standing over her. She slowly blinked as sunlight flooded into her eyes, but she just was able to make out the figure of a pony extending her hoof to help her up. She grabbed it and she pulled her up onto her feet. “Thanks” she said softly. She looked up at the pony and was surprised to see that it was Pinkie Pie. “Where are you running in such a hurry?” the overly exuberant pony smiled. “Nowhere” Sweetie Belle replied meekly, struggling to stop more tears from joining the ones already moistening her fur. “Why were you going so fast then?” Pinkie asked. “No reason” Sweetie Belle lied. “Why are you crying, Swe- …oh” Pinkie said, before stopping herself. Pinkie sighed quietly and looked down at the ground, immediately realising what was wrong with the filly, like a kind of a kind of telepathic connection had just been built. Sweetie Belle didn’t even have to say a word; the tears that began to fall from her eyes, run down her cheeks and fade away on her lips, explained it all. “I’m sorry about it, Sweetie Belle” Pinkie said sympathetically. “It’s ok” Sweetie Belle shrugged, wiping tears out of her eyes. “It’s not like I could’ve stopped it”. Pinkie sat down on the curb and patted the concrete next to her, beckoning Sweetie Belle to sit with her. Sweetie Belle sat down on the curb-side next to her and Pinkie put her hoof over the fillys shoulders and gave her a warming hug. “It’ll be ok” Pinkie whispered, almost about to cry herself. “It’ll be ok”. “It’s just…I always took her for granted” Sweetie Belle cried softly. “The last thing I ever said to her was just “yeah, whatever” when her and I got in a small argument and I decided to leave and go stay the night with Apple Bloom. That was the last thing I ever said to her before she died, and I have to live with that”. Pinkie understood Sweetie Belles forlorn attitude, especially now that she’d learnt this unfortunate truth. She desperately wanted to help the young filly, to at least bring her some kind of closure. “Look, what would you say if I told you that Rarity always treasured you?” Pinkie asked. Sweetie Belle sniffed and looked up at Pinkie. “I’d say that isn’t true” Sweetie Belle sniffed. “But it is” Pinkie said. “She always loved you. I bet at the time of her death, she probably wanted to turn back time and properly say goodbye as well”. “Yeah, maybe. I just wish this had never happened…” Sweetie Belle stood up and her anger began to take charge, overwhelming her depression. “Damn Rainbow Dash!” she squealed, kicking the curb-side as hard as she could. Pinkie wasn’t sure what to say. “Look, maybe she had a reason?” Pinkie said, trying to make sense of the situation. “Yeah, to make me as sad as possible” Sweetie Belle cried. She turned and spontaneously ran up the street. “Wait, Sweetie Belle!” Pinkie yelled out. Sweetie Belle heard Pinkie, but she ignored her and ran as fast as she could. Happiness was all she wanted, but as time went on from the death of Rarity, she found that all her positive emotions had been eradicated; drowned in a sea of misery, composed of the tears she cried all day and all night, weeping from her eyes as they fell down and stained her very soul with bitter anguish. All she desired was to see Rarity again. For one last time. But for this desire, there was no hope. When Sweetie Belle was a very young filly, just old enough to walk, Rarity was just beginning dress-making. Sweetie Belle found joy in wandering up the halls of her parents house, putting one hoof in front of the other, and wondering what kind of adventure she’d encounter today. Perhaps she’d get to go down to the market and see her friends, or she’d have to suffer through a bath. Either way, every day was like an adventure and Sweetie Belle was ready to take it head-on. She found delight in walking, although struggling to achieve the simple task of placing one hoof in front of the other. But she was determined, and this process often led her up the corridor and into Raritys bedroom, where she saw the mare who she believed to be like a saint; the mare she always looked up to and would do anything to please and appease. She’d wander in, an affectionate look worn on her face, as Rarity experimented with differing cloths, attempting to make beautiful dresses like the ones in her magazines. Tried as she did, the equipment she had at hoof was inadequate; she didn't even own a sowing machine, but instead just a thread and needle. However, just like Sweetie Belles will to walk, she was determined to make dresses and fulfill her goal of one day opening her own dress-making store. “What do you want?” Rarity would say in an irritated tone, a long thread dangling from her mouth as she struggled to get it in the eye of her needle. Sweetie Belle, of course, hadn’t learnt to speak, and just gazed up at Rarity with the edges of her mouth curling upwards, in an attempt to show Rarity that she was happy with her. “Please, just leave” Rarity would often say soon-after. “I’m trying to make this dress”. Sweetie Belle hadn’t quite gotten the grasp of communication, and her affectionate look changed to that of confusion. She was puzzled, yet Rarity couldn’t see it and just felt agitated by not being able to make her dress properly. As the years went on, the two grew older and matured slightly. Sweetie Belle had perfected walking and talking, just as Rarity had perfected sowing and stitching. But of course, Sweetie Belles area of exploration had begun to expand outside of just her parents house, especially since she’d been enrolled in school, and she began to find new role models. Inevitably, the glory that seemed to once emanate from Rarity began to fade, like the sun lowering over the horizon in the dusk of day, leaving the landscape to be shrouded in darkness as it leaves, only now, never to return once again and begin the process anew. Sweetie Belle, now a school student, began to expand her list of friends beyond just Rarity and found that Rarity wasn’t the only great pony in the world. As time went on, Rarity began to seem like just another pony. Of course, Sweetie Belle still loved her, but never looked up to her in the way she did prior to going out and beginning to explore Ponyville. One day, Rarity and Sweetie Belle were left home alone for a few hours in the evening. Undoubtedly, Rarity was in charge of Sweetie Belle. Her dress-making hobby was beginning to blossom and she was actually beginning to make a small business. She’d gotten her cutie mark and her parents, and herself, were so overwhelmed with glee that they went and bought a sowing machine for her, increasing her production of dress-making ten-fold. Rarity decided, in the middle of making a hat, that she obviously needed to cook a meal for Sweetie Belle. She went to the kitchen and made a simple meal; just a roast chicken with mixed vegetables. But she cooked it well and when it was ready she served a plate for Sweetie Belle and herself. “What do you think?” Rarity asked her sister, eager to hear her opinion of her cooking. Sweetie Belle swallowed a large mouthful of chicken and began to speak. “The chicken’s good, but the vegetables taste terrible” she said flatly. “Oh” Rarity said in a surprised tone. She was puzzled; she knew Sweetie Belle had always looked up to her, looking to her like she was a saint. But now, she’d given her criticism, very unlike the Sweetie Belle she’d come to know. “How come you don’t like it?” Rarity asked. “I don’t know. Vegetables are nice but you cooked these all wrong” Sweetie Belle said critically. Rarity felt a bit hurt. “I’m sorry” she said. “Are they under-cooked?” “No, they’re just all soggy, and blagh!” Sweetie Belle said, expressing her disgust. “I’m sorry they don’t suit your taste” Rarity said apologetically, putting a fork-load of carrots in her mouth. “It’s just gross” Sweetie Belle said acidly. She picked up her plate and hurled it to the floor. The glass plate shattered when it collided with the linoleum floor, sending large shards of crystal-like fragments scattering across the kitchen, as well as chicken bones and vegetables. “Sweetie Belle!” Rarity yelped in an alarmed tone. “That food was icky” Sweetie Belle said nastily, before getting up and leaving. That evening seemed to play over and over in Sweetie Belles head, again and again as she ran from Pinkie, swirling around through her skull, a hurricane of regret. How could she treat the pony she loved with such cruelty? --- Applejack dragged Fluttershy out of her home, using most of her strength to carry the unconscious pegasus. She dragged her around the outside of her house and dropped her near the back. “Oh, dear Celestia, what have I done?” she moaned. Inside her mind, her voices screamed at her, yearning for her to end the pegasus’ life, for she clearly knew too much. But Fluttershy was her friend. Could she really kill her friend in cold blood? Then again, she did murder Rarity, and Rarity was her friend. She stomped her hoof on the dirt and shook her head. “I don’t know what to do” she mumbled. She mulled it over in her head. If she did nothing, Fluttershy would more than likely go to the police and Applejacks freedom would be ended. On the other hand, she could do something to her, even murder her, then she couldn’t tell anyone. However, she loved Fluttershy. Could she really do that to her friend? She galloped as quickly as she could back to her house, running through the streets. Some ponies looked at her in odd ways as she sprinted down the road, barging through small crowds of ponies. “Hey, watch where you’re galloping!” somepony shouted as she ran by. She slowed down to a fast trot as she approached the entrance to her farm. She looked around worryingly, but then found an old cart; just what she’d been looking for. She hooked herself up to it, not even bothering to put the straps on properly. She wasn’t sure why she was acting so frantically; time wasn’t crucial here, although it seemed to be. Fluttershy would be probably be unconscious for a while, so why the rush? However, the voices in her head prodded, demanding she go faster. The quicker you do this, the quicker we can go back to relaxing! one of them yelled. “I don’t want to do this to my friend, though” she whispered to herself, shedding a tear. Do you wanna go to jail? Huh? Do you wanna get the crap beaten out of you by everypony in prison? Cause that’s what’ll fucking happen if you leave Fluttershy alone! Now get moving! Applejack now understood the metaphor 'being trapped between a rock and a hard place'. Her conscious and her true nature begged her to simply take the cart back to her farm, leave Fluttershy and let the pegasus explain everything to the police so that justice could be served. Or even better; confess herself. However, these thoughts were conflicted by the numerous voices in her head, urging her to carry out these abominable intentions. They presented a good argument; although murdering a friend initially has the cost of guilt and remorse, the payoff would increase the longevity of her freedom. Unfortunately, while definitely myopic in their nature, the voices were good arguers, and were capable of persuading Applejack into almost any situation. Although, usually they’d utilize this ability to cause her undertake actions that would place her in a situation where She would only experience a short period of happiness until a new problem arose from her prior actions; in this case, her intention of murdering Fluttershy. They’ll never catch you if you kill Fluttershy! a voice howled. No! This’ll just create more problems! Don’t you have a heart, Applejack? How can you end the life of another pony, nay, the life of a friend? her sense of remorse pleaded. Don’t listen to them! It’ll take less than ten minutes and then you’ll be fine forever! a second voice said persuasively. They can’t catch you if nopony says anything a third voice added. Applejacks breathing rate escalated quickly. Her vision became woozy and she felt nervous. Out of all the times her good qualities and her cold, calculating side had argued, this was the worst she’d experienced. The argument was heated, and all the voices and of her good qualities seemed to all be shouting at once. It was a constant argument in the mind of Applejack during her short voyage back to Fluttershys cottage. Her eyes twitched nervously and her mane drooped as her heart rate increased substantially, in response to severe anxiety. Her muscles became limp as she lowered the cart next to Fluttershys lifeless body. Her pink mane danced in the wind as a gust of air flew by. A feather dismembered itself from one of her wings and slowly drifted through the air, caught in an updraft. It soared upwards towards the long, blue ocean of air above which seemed to mimic a restful, beautiful sea on this cloud deprived day. The yellow, fragile feather rose steadily higher and higher, taunting Applejack with how her actions would never let her rise to Ponyheaven, before finally blowing away in an instant, never to be seen again. Applejack gulped as tears ran from her eyes. They poured onto Fluttershys face like soft rain as Applejack held her head over the pegasus, admiring her for one last time. She knelt down and stroked Fluttershys mane. “I love you, Fluttershy…” Applejack whispered soothingly in her ear. “But I can’t let you turn me in. I just can’t”. She took a deep breath, then methodically stood back up. She picked up Fluttershys limp body and put her in the straps of the cart, then grabbed her mane with her mouth and began dragging Fluttershy, along with the cart, downstream towards a nearby lake. Her plan was to push Fluttershy and the cart into the lake, with Fluttershy strapped to the cart, thus making it look like an accident. She stopped at the edge of the lake and looked out across it. There was nopony in sight, yet she felt like the entire world stood over her, judging her. Scorning her. Mocking her. Yelling at her. She stared up at the sky, almost sure there actually were at least some pegasi hovering above and watching. But inevitably, all she saw was the still, clear blue sky, not tainted by a cloud, nor anything else. It’s only rival being the sun, sitting lazily in the corner of Applejacks eye. Welcoming her with its warmth, only to fade away just mere hours later and have this warmth, this plentiful light, taken away. As daylight dies and dusk is born once again, darkness thrives in this absence of light, mocking us with our inability to see through it, inevitably leading to our brains to imagine the bizarre, yet believe it to be reality. Applejack thought about this, realising eventually, that the sunlight was her happiness, its death the murder of Rarity, and each ‘monster in the dark’ a new problem that would arise from that, and the darkness they were contained in was the judgment of the voices in her head, not allowing to see these problems, yet to approach them in promise of freedom. These ‘monsters’ don’t have to exist if she doesn’t want them to! If they aren’t tangible, why let them affect her? She shook her head and gazed over at Fluttershy. “I’m so sorry” she said softly. Applejack wandered over to her and stroked her hair with her hoof. “Fluttershy, I’m so sorry for what I was about to do”. She continued to stroke her, but suddenly recoiled in horror. Her hoof had just brushed over something she couldn’t bring herself to believe. She raced around to the back of Fluttershy and gasped when she saw the back of Fluttershys head. Her skull was completely cracked open, her brain was partially exposed and blood slowly seeped out. Applejacks heart rate increased ten-fold, knowing this must have happened when she struck Fluttershys head with that teapot. “Oh, Celestia!” she gasped, unable to believe the sight before her. It took her a moment to calm down, but she immediately checked her pulse when she did. There was a pulse, but it was incredibly weak. She picked up Fluttershy in her forehooves and, even though it’s very difficult for ponies to walk in this fashion, forced herself to use just her back legs to race to the back of the cart. She carefully placed Fluttershys body in it, then got in the straps at the front. What are you doing! Carry on with the plan! a voice in Applejacks head insisted. For once, Applejack decided that enough was enough. “No, I’m saving my friend” she muttered as she turned the cart around. She struggled to keep her breathing steady as she pulled the cart up the hillside as fast as she could without going so fast that Fluttershys affliction would be worsened by something like a bump in the track. She reached the top within less than a minute. Turn back. Now! a furious voice screeched. “I refuse to” she said quietly to herself. She started pulling the cart along, but within seconds she suddenly felt woozy. It was like…it was like the voices in her head were making her brain shut down. Or maybe she was starting to be persuaded to turn back and this was the result of not doing what she desired, even though she wasn’t sure what she desired. Applejack stopped and tried to think for a moment, although the woozy feeling persisted slightly. “Maybe I should kill Fluttershy…or should I save her?” She turned her head and looked back at Fluttershy. She was completely unsure of what to do. If she took her to the hospital and she recovered, she’d then tell everypony that she was the murderer. But maybe she’d suffer amnesia? But what if she didn’t? But if she murdered her, how would she deal with the body? Would it be better to leave the body like she’d done with Rarity, or dispose of it herself? But what about her morals? What about the analogy she’d thought about before? These thoughts spun around in her head, a web of complicated thought processes, but this entire conflict of what to do could be broken down into one basic battle: morals VS freedom. Applejack felt queasy with remorse and confusion, having no idea what to do. She sat down on the road and held her head in her hoofs, allowing her tears to run down her forelegs, soiling her orange fur as it dripped down onto the concrete beneath, staining it with its forlorn anguish. Applejack, her eyes lost in a sea of bitter tears, gazed over at Fluttershy. Her sight lay upon the wound on her head, filling Applejacks soul to the brim with a sense of dread and misery which stained her soul to the core with grief. Her soul set alight with sparks of misery, leading to flames of guilt. The smoke of remorse rose from this fire of regret, until her soul was left charred to the core. Reduced to being black with depression, destroyed and crushed, left broken and forgotten in this cruel, unforgiving world we call our home. --- Rainbow Dash wandered down a road far from the prison she’d just escaped from. A shower of rain fell from the grey clouds above her, covering the sky and soiling its once clear, blue look with their depressing grey colour, almost matching the pegasis emotions. Had there been a booming crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, her surroundings would have accurately matched her emotions, for she was furious and boiling with rage, like a jug of water boils vigorously over a fire. But this pegasus was close to boiling over. A trickle of water slowly ran down her nose as she grunted angrily, trying her best to rid herself of her wingcuffs. But they were made of a strong metal alloy and she lacked the tools necessary to remove or break them. She felt cold, her body fully exposed to the cool, crisp air, protected only by her thin blue fur. The wind whistled through the trees on the side of the road as it sped through the air and her hooves stepping on the road was one of the only audible noises in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. But the pegasis eyes lit up when she heard a second set of hooves walking nearby. Her eyes darted around furiously, but the air was filled with a hazy fog that made hearing much more useful than sight. But finally, she spotted a stallion pulling a cart along the road in the distance. The stallion was just up ahead and looked tired and apathetic, pulling the cart lethargically. She steadily trotted over, but when she got within 30 feet of the stallion, she stopped and felt slightly shocked. She leapt into some nearby bushes and sheltered herself in the leaves, fearing she’d be seen. But in this fog, this was extremely unlikely. She peered out through the bushes, her eyes the only exposed part of her body as she looked around for the stallion. Eventually, her sight lay upon the stallion once again. It was, unfortunately for Rainbow Dash, Big Mac. “What is he doing out here?” she quietly muttered to herself. She looked at all the junk in his cart and wondered to herself; perhaps he had something she could use to break her wingcuffs? But of course, what would Big Mac say or do if he saw the pony he thought murdered Rarity, outside of prison with no guards around? Undoubtedly, he’d run away and contact the police, who were probably already searching for her. She sat down and sighed slowly as she thought it through. She needed to check his cart to see if he had any useful tools, but he was a lot bigger than her and could probably quite easily overpower her if he wanted to, which he probably would. “Damn it, should I take the risk?” she whispered, peering out of the bush again. She sighed, coming to the realization that she was in the middle of nowhere. The chances of coming across another pony around here who potentially had tools that could remove wingcuffs, was virtually nil. She had to grasp this opportunity with all her effort. And so, she sprinted across the road and jumped into another set of bushes, just mere metres from Big Mac. The stallion jumped in shock and looked behind him, but inevitably saw nothing. He shrugged it off and thought of it as nothing more than just a bird or something. Rainbow Dash emerged from the bush she hid behind and stepped up behind Big Mac, taking each step as quietly as possible. After just a moment, she lunged forward and hit the back of Big Macs head with her forehooves. Big Mac slumped forwards and gasped loudly. Rainbow Dash feared that her actions were unsuccessful, but she felt elated when he collapsed to the ground. She raced over to him to see that his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow. The massive stallion had been put to sleep. Rainbow Dash immediately sprinted to his cart and started rummaging through its contents. She felt almost euphoric when she found a pair of bolt cutters laying amongst the clutter. “Oh, perfect!” she yelped. She grabbed them, placed the blades over her wingcuffs and pressed down with them as hard as she could. But nothing happened. “What the?” she said in confusion. She tried again, but the same thing happened. Again and again, she tried frantically to cut the wingcuffs, but they just would not snap, nor even break in any way whatsoever. Not even a scratch could be seen when Rainbow threw the bolt cutters at the ground with fury. “Why won’t you cut them?!” she screamed. She was enraged, but then gasped when she looked a little more closely at the bolt cutters. She picked them up off the moist concrete road, made wet by the soft downpour of rain, and ran her hoof along their blades. She slowly turned her hoof towards her face and stared at it, only to find that the bolt cutters hadn’t cut her. “These bolt cutters are blunt!” she yelled. “Why did that fat lummox have blunt bolt cutters in his cart!?” She dropped them on the ground and went back to rummaging through the cart, but couldn’t find anything else capable of cutting through her wingcuffs. “Fuck!” she screeched, her voice piercing through the cold, still air. She furiously kicked the cart and broke one of the wheels in her rage. But, accepting the fact that there was nothing more for her here, she stepped back and picked up the bolt cutters she’d dropped. She decided that she’d have to take them somewhere where she could get them sharpened. Then she could remove her wingcuffs and get on with her plan. And so, the pegasus, driven by anger, began walking up the middle of the road towards Ponyville. She clutched the bolt cutters tightly with her teeth, ignoring the disgusting taste of the plastic handles. The rain began to get heavier and puddles stood in her path. But she strode through the rain, eager to find Applejack and achieve vengeance. Her mind became solely focused on this objective, and as she steadily walked up this road, nopony knew of what would come during the upcoming days when Rainbow Dash arrived in Ponyville.