I struck the last cord and listened with a smile as the sound of my music faded through the temple halls. Then the priests rose from their chairs and pulled back their hoods. Instead of faces of wonderment and interest I was met with scowls of annoyance. "What is wrong fathers?" I ask with confusion.
"You have only wasted our time" father Harmony says.
"This is merely another toy, that helped destroy the elder race" Father Stone said.
Father Mercy stepped forward and snatched my precious instrument from me. I watched in shock and horror as grinded the object of my joy into splinters under his hooves.
"Go! leave us be! We have our work to do!" father Harmony shouted as he snapped the neck of my prized guitar in half.
This was the heaviest lost I had ever felt... the one thing that brought me joy was now destroyed, and with it, are also my hope of a happy existence. I fell to my knees and cried over my beloved wooden beauty. I pulled the splinters and pieces of my guitar into a pile and hugged it close, before curling up and crying. I knew I would never find another, and I knew not of who could or how to make another... in a act of religiously driven cruelty, my one joy had been taken. I don't know how long I laid curled up, crying into the pile of debris. When I looked up I saw the priests wearing smiles of entertainment, as they laughed at my misery.
"Leave our sacred temple, and pray we do not incarcerate you" father Stone said with no guilt or remorse for the life he just ruined.
With heavy heart, and a cloud of sorrow over me, I picked up the remains of my love before walking out of the temple. I cried into the wooden corpse as I walked back to my cove. I was holding my destroyed instrument so tightly, that splinters were digging into me, yet I did not care. All the lashes in the land paled in comparison to the pain I felt as my inanimate love was destroyed. I trudged through the rain, the icy water chilling me to the bone. I placed my Guitar down with shaking hooves before I started digging in the dirt across from my waterfall. I put all my sorrow into my work, digging a grave not just for my guitar, but also a part of myself. I carefully put the guitar in the hole, arranging it to resemble it's elegant shape once more before piling the dirt on top. I then curled up and laid on the grave I made, before once again being reduced to a sobbing pile of misery and emptiness. I started losing feeling in my hooves from the icy rain so I slowly stood, and put a large rounded stone over top my instrument's resting place before shuffling back to my cove to cry myself to sleep.