Me
Me
I open my eyes.
That in itself surprises me.
My heart is a beating a mile a minute, I can feel spittle on my face, and I can feel hatred and fear around me. I try to take steady, even breaths and calm down as best I can. I touch a limb to my face—and it comes away dry. Just like that, the illusion shatters, I know I'm alone, and my heart resumes its familiar ba-dump, ba-dump.
I slowly look around, eye sockets rolling like magic eight balls, from my position on the soft floor. Ten seconds of observation when you don't know where you are can save your life—or so I heard. Regardless, I observe until the allotted time expires.
I'm in a cell. A white cell. A white, padded cell with the smell of cleaning supplies prevalent throughout the stuffy air, to be exact.
My teeth grit and my eyes narrow.
Who did this to me?! Where am I?! I don't remember how or why—
Wait...
Yes, I do remember. Flashes; tiny, microscopic pieces of information line up like so many pawns on a chessboard, all different colours. It forms a picture, one seen through my own eyes. Six happy looking ponies, all laughing at the same bad joke, with a solitary dragon trying to suppress his laughter in the background.
Then the picture is gone—whisked away only to be replaced by another just like it, only different. Instead of six happy looking ponies plus one dragon, I see two regal faces, one of dark blue, and one of white. Their faces are wearing the politely detached look they always wore in public, but I could see the suppressed amusement beneath the mask as I gestured wildly with my hands, trying to make one of many failed attempts at storytelling as detailed as possible.
Then that one is gone, too.
All gone so fast, fleeing faster than a cheetah with its tail caught on fire. I see with my mind's eye enough pictures to fill a museum, an art gallery—all gone so fast that I can't keep track. But that was the test: I wasn't supposed to be able to keep track.
I didn't have to save each and every memory like it was precious. Each one was precious, in its own way, but there would always be more, always be others. I didn't have to save them; hoard them; treat them like they were bedazzled golden jewellery. No, I could afford to let some go.
In fact, I probably should let some of them go: If the state of my memory tells me anything, it's that some extra room won't hurt.
All of this takes less than a few seconds.
Or at least, what feels like a few seconds. Time can be rather finicky while in a white box with nothing to measure it by.
How do I know that?
I sit up straight, and ponder my own question in depth.
Still revelling from the shock of experiencing my memories for a second time, it takes me longer than I'd like to admit to realize that something tragic must've befallen me. I must be suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder, or something of a similar vein. I also feel very tired, as if my body wasn't quite resting while my brain did.
I look around some more, and am forced to squint my eyes against the blinding glare of the walls. There's no windows, but a section of the wall that's sunken attracts my attention. Upon closer inspection, the indentation is revealed to be a door.
Now, if only I could make it there.
I start to move, but stop when a wave of lethargy comes over me. Why should I bother? I was obviously placed in this... cell for a reason—why should I be let out on a whim? I glance back at the wall with tired eyes. I shouldn't try anymore; instead, I should sit here and do nothing. Attempting to do something was what placed me here in the first place, so why bother?
Why bother?
Why bother.
Why. Bother.
I turn back towards the door. I know why I should bother. I should bother because, like it or not, I got myself into this mess, and sitting around doing nothing isn't going to solve the problem. No matter how easy it was to sit and ponder the why's... no matter how infinitely easier that is, there are some things that just have to be done.
Taking a deep breath, a deeper one than I could normally take, I attempt to stand—attempt being the key word. I fall flat on my face because my limbs don't seem to be responding to my commands. One of them hurts—hurts quite badly, actually, and I don't know why.
I manage to sit back up, then I look down, and find another slightly unnerving fact to add to my ever-growing list.
Instead of pale skin and toes, I see golden fur and hooves. I'm nearly paralyzed in shock—with one exception of a hoof slowly turning this way and that to be meticulously scanned by my eyes, and another of my chest slowly rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths, my body is as still as the statues in the Canterlot garden.
My subconscious acts entirely of its own accord and sends me a quick video, one of extremely high quality, nearly indistinguishable from true reality.
The audio starts a second before the picture kicks in.
"And you're sure that this won't somehow backfire?" I hear myself ask as if I was actually there. It's even said exactly how I would say it.
The colour bleeds in like an old television set, and I see a purple unicorn looking directing at me, wearing a smile that contains equal parts exhaustion from being asked the same question repeatedly and true excitement from the circumstances.
"Yes, I'm sure, Divide," the unicorn replies in a familiar female tone. I let out an involuntary shiver upon hearing my name.
Yes, that was my name. Divide. Simple and surprisingly appropriate. Why was it appropriate? I feel like I should know...
The unicorn resumes speaking, and I listen politely.
"I've done hundreds of tests across dozens of test subjects. Believe me, I've never been more sure of something working exactly like it's supposed to—which would be a nice change of pace." I almost frown with concern until I realize she is poking fun at her own, admittedly, failed scientific pursuits. I smile with complete certainty, and try to show that I have faith in the project by saying:
"You're right: We should probably get this over and done with."
I don't think it worked.
Knock knock knock-knock knock.
The sudden rapping at my chamber door startles me out of my memory. Shaking off my inner vision, I look at the door. A faint, new memory stirs in the old one's place; a memory of a pattern, a familiar repetition. A jingle.
I carefully shuffle towards the door on unsteady legs. What am I supposed to do? What happens next?
My hand—hoof, rather—reaches out of its own behest and answers the call from muscle memory.
Knock-knock.
Silence. A painfully loud silence follows.
Gulping down a feeling of dread, I slowly push myself away from the door. I stare at it for what feels like hours before the sound of metal grinding against metal grates my ear, making me jump backwards and push myself flat against the far wall.
I don't move a muscle while the door opens, but my eyes are fixated on the dark silhouette standing in the light. It feels like the image is burned into my retinas.
I blink, and I see who is in front me, clearly.
"Twilight," I say, voice broken. "You finally got your wings."
|
|
|
|
|
|
I wake up, and the thought fills me with absolutely nothing at all. I make myself stand, and walk over to the solitary window within the clean, shadowed room.
Through the looking glass, I see my sight fluttering wildly, with flashes of purple that, only upon closer inspection, happens to be my once-friend of Twilight Sparkle. I hear a tortured sound of one using my throat, but not with my voice.
I look away.
Also LikedSimilarAuthor
- Divide · 1.3k words · 25 8 · 434 views
Stats
Page generated in 0.087 seconds
Total duration
999 users online
1,291,806 hits today, 1,996,409 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
This... I don't know what to say.
It's brilliant, scary, enthralling, worrying, delicious, dreadful, mysterious and horrible all at once.
It's like seeing someone jump off a cliff and thinking "hey this could happen to me, too."
I'm scared. If I give you a favorite, will you leave me alone? Oh wait. Of course not.
*click
Wow, this is really great, keep up the good work.
P.S. FIRST!
Awesome, that is all.
Confusing without a larger amount of backstory but it did have enough to fill in the gaps by the end... Cool...
Holy... I was entranced in the complexity of this story. It was so deep, yet depressing, and right when there is some sliver of hope at the end, the moment is hijacked. You also managed to integrate some of the canon into this story, which is a nice feat considering that you weren't too happy about the change.
So there is a pessimistic side, a creative side, a furious side, and the normal one. And apparently, the protagonist used to be a human (or antagonist also, if you count the other personalities). And waving your hands around in an attempt at storytelling... I see what you did there.
Wait, wait, wait. So if his name was Divide, could this be some kinda replacement for The Dividing Line? Also, I'm assuming that the spell Twi used was to send him (you?) back to Earth, but it backfired and turned you into a pony and gave (?) you MPD? 'Cause if that part about the Multiple Personalities exists now, words cannot express. I can't exactly sympathize, but I can try to imagine someone taking control of my mind and doing/saying mean/weird shit. None of the outcomes are good. But if it's not true, then all's well and good, except me getting worked up for no reason.
Welp, thanks for writing yet another mind-blowing story, now I got an interesting concept to ponder for the rest of the day.
It's dangerous to go alone. Here, take this favorite.
2627681
P.P.S. Fail!
good :D
i don't think i've ever read something quite like this before.
have an upvote and a fave
EDIT: oh, wait... it says complete. i revoke that favourite
Wow, that sucks for him, huh. Too bad, really.
That was... interesting...
Wait, did he kill Twilight?
Wow... WOW! This is spot on! And I know exactly why!
It's so...true...
This is too real. And therefore a new favorite.
The real one only got to say six words before being forced back into his on mind and having to watch anther take over thats fucking sad!
I don't understand this chapter.
8415181
If u read the dividing line u will understand this chapter
I passed by and reviewed this, even though its author left the site long ago. I was a bit iffy about a multiple-personality fic given this author's site history, but as that was so long ago I decided to take the fic as I found it. And I found it quite intriguing, but also rather confusing.