//------------------------------// // Chapter 2- Yesterday's Walk // Story: Dark Equestrians // by zxcvsaw //------------------------------// The stallion stumbled into the corridor. The weakness in his legs seemed to betray him at every single possible moment. After all, it had been a long time he had trotted along. He could still hear the rattling and depraved howls that shook the bars of the imprisoned and thought about letting them out, but he decided to push on. Though he could not see their faces, the darkness framed the bloodlust that drowned their hearts. In the midst of the darkness, he fell. He tried to see what he tripped over and in that moment, the darkness allowed him a dim silhouette. It was huddled to itself on the cold ground making short sporadic spasms. It seemed like a pony. He tried speaking to it. It only sobbed in response. He tried petting it, but it flinched at his touch and shambled away. He tried to see where the pony stumbled of to, but the darkness was too thick. He walked on forward. He walked into a wall, made a right turn, and saw a light at the end of the corridor. His slow walk turned into a brisk trot, and the brisk trot gradually turned into a full gallop. Oddly enough, as he galloped forward, he began to hum a little melody that he once heard when he was a foal. He felt the years slowly melt from him and in that moment, he was young again. He remembered the smiles, the songs, the sweet, sweet apple cider... He heard the shrill cry of the gulls above him and with a rattling laugh, he cried, "Aaaaaahhh! Aaaaaaahhhh! Aaaaaah!" with tears streaming down his face. Confetti exploded in his face. He was eighteen again and was back at home with his friends and family. He was at his birthday party and a pretty pink mare hopped around singing to him some archaic birthday song while cartwheeling around. Her name, her name, what was her name? He tried to look around and ask his friends and family, but their faces, their faces... What happened to their faces? He tried to reach out to them, but they melted away into the sand. Only the pink mare was left and she was still belting out that song. He tried to reach out for her too, but he suddenly felt a sharp hit to his face and he opened his eyes. He was back at the prison. He looked behind him. The rotten splinters of the barrels that he so unceremoniously crashed through seemed to be making a rude gesture at him. He looked forward. He could not longer hear the gulls or remember whatever he was doing previously. What was he thinking of before? It seemed really important... He felt his cheeks. Tears? Was he crying? He stopped to think, but all he felt was weight of the dark mark on his rump. It felt so alien and intrusive, and for some reason, he felt that it took something from him. He just wasn't sure what. He looked outside. He was on a balcony that overlooked a garden that had died long ago. In front of him, there was a giant door that loomed in front of him. At that door's steps, were some ponies that seemed to be dressed in guard's armor. Or rather what was left of it. He counted three of them as they shambled about aimlessly. He looked around, the giant door seemed like the only path available. All the other doorways on the balcony he was on seemed to lead on to nothing more than cesspools of despair. He trotted is way down the stairs and into the garden, and cautiously approached the guards. They stopped and stared at him. He stared back. He saw rotting faces whose putrid flesh just seemed to barely hang on to the skull. Accompanied by the putrid flesh, were milky, white orbs that the stallion supposed were once eyes. Whatever color their fur coats had faded away with time. None of them had horns or wings, but all of them had that same damned mark on the places where their Cutie marks used to be. That same mark that he had... They stared at him eerily. He stared back. He slowly began to shy away from them until he stepped on a dried out husk of a flower. The flower crumpled, and as the flower disintegrated, the guards violently twisted their heads, making a sickening snapping sound, and charged at the stallion with nothing but glazed stares and open jaws.