Bricks in the Wall

by _NAME_

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

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As I galloped further into the back of my mind, I think I was crying. I wasn’t sure; I couldn’t tell anymore. Everything in this bleak, expressionless void all felt and looked the same and I just couldn’t take it anymore. Things had happened so fast.

I was being chased by everything that I had tried to run away from my entire life, myself included. I could feel it all pursuing me, breathing down my neck, wanting so much to just take a bite out of my mind once again, to eat into my head, to bleed me dry.

The void was getting warmer the further I ran. It beat down on me like the sun was mere inches from my body, burning me with nonexistent fire. I think it was anger. It was the wrath of everything that I locked way behind my Wall all these years. It was pure, unbridled fury directed at me and me alone. I could feel it writhing and seething all around me, filling the emptiness with a hot, muggy mass.

So I ran. I ran from my vengeful memories.

In my hotel room, I stood up from my chair. I took a hesitant step forward and felt something crunch under my hoof. Unsteadily, I looked down at the floor and, with unwavering eyes, registered just how unorganized it was for the first time that night. I could hardly move around the hotel suite without trampling upon something if I was fully conscious, but in my current condition, it was a minefield.

And I hated it. It was so, messy, so unclean. It wasn’t right. I loathed it. I hated it. I hated it. I… I…

My eye twitched involuntarily and I ran my hooves through my mane. Oh fuck, it was wrong. Everything was wrong. Everything. Wrong.

I had to fix it. Maybe if I cleaned up my prison, I could find a way out of my mind. Yes, I had to try. I had to do something. Everything just felt so…so... filthy…

I had to. I couldn’t stand it.

I dropped to the floor and swept a large patch of the debris to the side and began working. Maybe I could escape.

And I continued running and crying and running deep into the blackness.

IS THERE ANYPONY OUT THERE?

The television was situated directly in front of my chair.

It was the center of the entire room, the centerpiece for how I was going to organize the room.

I shoved most of the debris to the side so that I had a clean working area to start out with.

I had to organize this clutter, this mess of a room.

I first found some bits amongst the carnage.

Those I arranged down the center, from the TV to the chair from largest amount to smallest.

Around those, I lined some slightly bent paper clips that looked like an ‘s’.

The ones that didn't look like an ‘s’ went to the side of some interestingly shaped shards of wood I found.

There was a table frame, its glass top long shattered.

It was in front of the couch, so I didn't move it.

Should I move it…?

No, no… It had to stay there.

Moving it would mess up everything else.

There were some tufts of cotton that I arranged in a circle around the remnants of several broken bottles.

I decorated the outside of that circle with some mints that I found next to wrappers of some sort.

No.

Not next to those wrappers.

The mints had to go near the dinner plates that had cats on the outside edges.

Yes.

That worked.

The wrappers, though, were neatly on a cloth off to the right of a broken picture frame containing empty cartons of cigarettes.

I found my saddlebags lying on top of the couch so I took it off and hung it from the television’s antennae.

There were some broken records that I organized in a row based on color and the amount they were broken.

I pieced them together as best I could, fitting fragment to fragment.

The records were all black, but some of them weren't as broken so they went at the top of the line near the broken guitars, but not in front of them.

The guitars were arranged in a cross pattern, some missing the necks or knobs or bodies.

One guitar in particular was missing the entire faceplate and I couldn't find it so I could put them together.

Instead, I filled it with blankets and cloth and place some picture without a picture frame on top.

The guitars were laid out in rows in front of the TV, and the bits I organized earlier were bordering them.

I gathered some cutlery and stacked them on top of each other in an ‘x’ pattern.

It felt right, so I had to do it.

There was one particular knife that was bent in such a way that it almost resembled a crude hammer and I put it in the coat pocket of a coat that was hanging off of a coat rack that I had put just to the left of the television.

I also swept all the dust into rows that lined the entire outside of where I was organizing everything, defining my zone.

No.

What was I thinking putting the saddle bags on the antennae?

I took it off and hung off the coat rack next to the umbrella and opposite the coat.

There were some old books that I found.

I ripped out all of their pages and stacked them all according to the page number around a second picture frame that wasn’t quite as broken as the first.

Inside that frame I had some objects I didn’t know the purpose of, but they all were the same, so they all went together.

There were fifty-eight little unknown things in that frame, I counted.

I lumped broken glass together around the TV and my chair forming piles of jagged glass.

The lamp shade went… no that was wrong.

It went…

My eyes swept around my organized room, looking for a place to put the lampshade.

Guitars?

No.

Chair?

No.

Bottles?

No.

Frame?

No.

TV?

Yes.

But where?

On top.

The lampshade was placed on top of the television, right on top of the antennae.

There were some foodstuffs that I filled the lampshade with, filling the space around the antennae.

I had three stools behind the television.

One was broken and shorter than the rest so it went in the middle for symmetry.

The food cart went behind my chair with sheets hung over it and potted plants on top of those.

There were unbroken bottles that had to go below where the guitars were but above the picture frames.

I placed a lone flower in each end one.

There were small pills strewn about that I put into circles around some of the broken records.

I found what remained of a guitar neck and put it across the guitar that was missing its neck.

I put the wall clock underneath my chair and made the hands spin until the time was 12:00 and the hand were pointing north and south.

No.

Or was it west and east?

Whichever, they faced the TV and the wall opposite it.

Pens, quills and pencils went around the television, but inside the dust boundary, stacked on each other in an ‘x’ pattern.

No.

They went over there.

I moved them accordingly.

I leaned across the stack of book pages to get at the guitars so that I could put sheets of paper on top of them but I accidentally hit one of the cutlery ‘x’s and the spoon fell off of the fork.

I flinched involuntary and immediately straightened the silverware and breathed a sigh of relief.

I put the TV remote on the center of the chair cushion.

Some more things were put next to other things.

I put some different things and a much larger thing of the same sort next to a pile of stuff.

I straightened everything and stood up, admiring my handiwork.

But I noticed a table leg and set it within the table’s frame which also contained a hat.

Speaking of which, that hat should go on the coat rack…

No, not the coat rack.

It was a coat rack, not a hat rack.

A hat didn't belong on a coat rack.

I left the hat within the table.

I bit my bottom lip and moved some of the bent paper clips around so that they looked better.

A sudden gust of wind blew in from the shattered window, scattering my book pages around the room.

I shrieked and leapt around and pounced on each until I had them all back again.

I sorted them once again and laid them back out, this time adding several pieces of jagged metal to the tops of the stacks, so they wouldn’t blow away again.

Lines were straightened and more things were organized.

It all had to be perfect. It all had to be clean.

Maybe cleaning my prison would help me escape it.

But it wasn't clean enough yet.

I took some light bulb filaments and put them in a semi-circle around some peanuts.

No.

Still not clean enough…

Never clean enough…

IS THERE ANYPONY OUT THERE?

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and a gaunt, wide-eyed, crazed pink stallion looked back out. He looked the way I felt, which was absolutely filthy. My attempts to organize my prison had been half successful; there was no longer any clutter out in the living room, but I was still trapped in my head. There had been no escape.

And now I felt unclean. Dirty. Grimy. Muddy. Soiled. Tainted.

The pony that watched me from inside the mirror annoyed me greatly. He was disheveled and dirty and could do with a good cleaning. His brown, wavy mane was ratty and tousled. It hung down in front of his eyes and looked hideous. His pink coat was tarnished with dust and blood and who knew what else, and it was wet, hanging limply from his thin frame. His gray eyes were bloodshot and puffy and he had a grin plastered on his face.

I think the pony in the mirror laughed at me. The bastard! How dare he mock me! I was alone and trapped in here and he was watching me with a smirk plastered on his face. I think…

No! He did laugh at me! I saw him do it! I did!

It was fast; if I had blinked an instant too soon, I would’ve missed it. But I didn’t. He was teasing me right in front of my own face! The fucking bastard!

I growled and clenched my teeth together, as did the stallion in the mirror. If I could’ve, I would’ve smacked that grin right off of his face.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Not yet, at least. I was in here to get clean. I had cleaned my room, but now I had to be as well. All of this… long, matted hair hanging down in front of my eyes, all the swishy, curly hair on my tail; it all had to go. My hair itched and irritated wherever it touched my body and I could just feel it practically swimming with filth and evil.

I had to be pure. I needed to be clean.

Maybe then I could escape. Maybe then I could be free.

I had to hope.

I picked up a razor that was sitting on the side of the sink. It was a simple little invention; a little slip-on pad with blades on the other side. Easy for any non-unicorn to use. Those lucky bastards, with their magic. They even charmed so that it would only cut off facial hair and not the coat underneath.

I ran my hoof through my mane, feeling it, picking through it and so did the pony in the mirror. My hooves traveled down my face to my eyebrows. Such strange things, eyebrows. Hair that grew where no other hair grew. I rubbed them for a moment, my eyes unblinking. My hooves wandered down to my snout and cheeks where the barest hint of coarse stubble was beginning to grow in; I had never looked good with facial hair. Then, I flicked my bushy tail somewhat into my grasp and felt it the same.

It all had to go. It was all contaminated. I had to be purged.

I slipped my hoof into the razor and ran it over my cheeks, feeling slight resistance as it cut off the stubble. The pony opposite me mirrored my movements with precision accuracy. We watched each other shave our respective faces, until we both finished.

But he still didn’t look clean and I still didn’t feel clean.

I brought the razor pad up to my eye level. My hoof hovered there for a moment before I swooped down on my eyebrows, forcibly grinding them off. Dribbles of blood began to run down the bridge of my snout and off my nose, dripping to the sink below. The pony in the mirror grinned slightly my hoof twitched, causing another cut in my skin. Finished with the first one, I moved on to the other eyebrow and, soon after, shaved off that one as well, revealing bald, pink flesh underneath, not unlike my natural coat color.

I blinked away some of the blood dripping into my eyes and splashed some water on my face. It stung the fresh gashes just above my eyes, but I didn’t pay it any mind. The mirror pony blinked at me and rubbed his hooves over the spot where his eyebrows were, feeling the smooth skin that was there now.

It was an interesting feeling, having no eyebrows. It felt… good...

I held the blade in trembling hooves and raised my free hoof to my mane and grasped a tuft of it, holding it away from the rest of the hair. I ran the razor through it, feeling it separate the follicles from the rest of my scalp. I let go of the clump of hair and let it fall into the floor where it collected at my hooves.

I scraped the razor over my scalp, feeling bunches of hair drop off with every stroke I made. I watched the mirror as the pony watching me slowly lost all of his hair along with me. Fleshy, pink skin stood out in sharp contrast from the dark brown hair that was once there. But I continued cutting, revealing more of that clean, purged surface and expunging the disgusting filth.

With a final swipe, I cut off the last of my mane, leaving nothing but pink left. I ran my free hoof over the slightly rough surface, feeling relief that I was finally free from that mess sitting on top of my head. I felt so much lighter now, so much giddier. The pony in the mirror smiled again and blinked his gray eyes.

I scowled at the stallion’s expression and began to turn my attention to my tail. It was difficult for anypony to reach their tail, let alone brush it or trim it without the help of magic, which generally left the other two less fortunate races to develop their own style of reaching their tails. I was never too good at it and generally left my tail to its own devices.

But not anymore.

I twisted around and wrapped my free hoof around my tail as best I could. I pulled it closer to my front and stretched out with the razor as best I could. I ran the blade down the length of my tail, watching as it sliced through the matted, soiled hair. The curls of hair fell away, and soon enough there was nothing left but a skinny stump of flesh that tapered off at the end. I wagged it experimentally, feeling it whip through the air so unlike the sluggish movements it had when burdened with hair.

I grinned triumphantly and looked back towards the mirror, seeing a similar expression stuck on the mirror pony’s face as well. I frowned and snorted, feeling a temper rise in me again. The bastard was still copying me, mocking me, insulting me!

He laughed again. I bet he thought this was a game, this staring contest between the two of us! I wanted nothing more than to escape from behind my Wall, and here this stallion was, laughing at me, thinking he was so much better than me, just outside it.

I slammed my hoof into the mirror, the glass shattering beneath my impact. Hundreds of shards clattered to the floor and sink with a cacophonous clatter. And from each piece of the mirror, I could still see the stallion laughing back at me, defiant to the end. I screamed and slammed my hooves into the sink, crushing the shards into dust, blood flying from my hooves.

The pony couldn’t laugh at me anymore.

I flung the razor down to the floor and stumbled to the door, intent on leaving this room, but found myself unable to take the few steps to the door. My hooves were slow and the entire room spun before my eyes. I tried to take a step forward, but had to struggle to take my hoof off of the ground. After a few moments of difficulty, I managed to shuffle to the door.

I fumbled with the door handle for a moment, my hooves rapidly turning numb, and pushed the bathroom door open. I stood in the doorway for a moment, looking into my bedroom, my head steadily filling with pounding drums. I groaned and sluggishly shambled through the room, trying to get back to my chair.

But I felt so clean, so free. Maybe I could escape. Maybe this would work…

IS THERE ANYPONY OUT THERE!?

And I kept running deep into my mind, away from whatever horrors awaited me elsewhere. I had to get away. I had to escape. But nothing I had tried had worked. My room was clean and orderly, but no cracks in the Wall revealed themselves. I purged myself and cleansed my body, hoping that I could break through to the outside world again, but nothing happened.

And there was still so much pain following me as I galloped into the blackness.

And there was nopony outside who could hear and help me. I was trapped, alone and afraid inside myself and there was nothing I could do. Nothing had worked.

Nothing.

And all I could do was continue to call out in the hope that somepony will help save me from the terrors. All I could do was ask, and hope that my savior wouldn’t abandon or hurt me like everypony else. All I could do was hope and pray and plead and beg and cry and yell and scream and laugh and sob and nothing.

Nothing…

I could do nothing but ask…

IS THERE ANYPONY OUT THERE?

I hobbled back into my room, trying not to trip over the organized items littering the floor but my hooves wouldn’t respond. They dragged along the floor, knocking over the guitars and buttons and cans and bits and paperclips and smashing the records and crushing the glass shards.

And still I was running away, deep into the blackness, hoping to get away and hoping to find a way out from behind the Wall.

But as I did, the room seemed to grow fainter and I could barely feel the breeze blowing in through the window. The television seemed to mute and I could hardly make out what was happening on it any more. The scent of dust and spilled drink wafted away and I could barely feel my extremities anymore.

Yet, somehow, I managed to reach my chair and collapse into it, breathing heavily. I could feel myself fading away into the blackness. My consciousness and senses seemed to be failing, shutting down completely, leaving me floundering in the void.

But still I thundered on, deep into the darkness, terrified out of my mind and in my mind. The hotel room had all but vanished now, leaving me with barely any stimulus besides the vicious, plaguing memories and thoughts that stalked this blackness.

I looked around quickly, feeling something watching me from somewhere in the emptiness. I twisted around, finally coming to a halt and my eyes danced around the black, struggling to see what was out there, or if anypony was out there.

And out of the gloom, stepped the gray stallion once more, smiling widely. His left hoof was bleeding, leaving a streak of blood in his wake, something I hadn’t noticed before, but the rest of him was just as terrifying as before.

And I stood there, terrified, my legs frozen to the ground.

And still the stallion approached me.

He limped closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and even closer until he was mere inches from my snout. A spark of life ignited deep inside of his dull, dead eyes and he straightened up, suddenly looking healthier, cleaner, even. His pink eyes looked directly into mine, and deep into my soul.

His mouth opened with a creak, as if the muscles and tendons had never been moved before. He rolled his jaw for a moment and a dull, wrinkled tongue darted out to lick his lips.

He whispered something, but I couldn't hear it.

And I ran away from him once more, retreating deeper into my mind.

And somewhere, in the distance, echoing around the void, I heard a phone ring.

The phone in my hotel room rang once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Then my hearing faded completely, stripping me of the last bit of real life that I could sense.

And I couldn’t move to pick the phone up.

After all, there was nopony home.

IS THERE ANYPONY OUT THERE?

Author's Note:

Based on “Is There Anybody Out There?”

Comments

[Avenging-Hobbits]

YOU SHOULD SO TOTALLY DO AUTHORS NOTES. I WOULD READ THE LIVING HELL OUT OF THOSE.

Did I mention that I freaking love this story?

Also, I'm wondering how you're going to do Comfortably Numb or Bring the Boys Back Home or all of Side 4.

[FloydienSlip]

Again I ask, how has this gone criminally unnoticed? This is THE best Pink Floyd fic I've ever read.