• Published 15th Apr 2012
  • 1,983 Views, 42 Comments

Patchwork Pony - Drax99



A monster pony wakes up with no memory, and is befriended by the CMC.

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You guys wanna see a dead body?

Ow. Ow. Something was poking me. It felt, well what was it? Oh, pain. Pain is bad, I think. Yes, definitely bad. I can’t move but I start to hear, as high pitched voices enter my consciousness. The word drifts into my mind, and I latch onto it. Children. Yes, that's the word. Piece by piece, things fall into place, like a bucket slowly being filled with sap, one drip at a time.

“See, I told you, it’s a dead body! Now pay up, you owe me two bits.” Again, the poke, and the small jab of pain.

An image came to my mind, drifted in, and started playing. Four creatures, pale, mostly hairless, and wearing ...clothing. Yes, that's the word. Sitting together in a small room, “You guys wanna see a dead body?” one of them said to the others. Just as quickly the scene fades out and the blackness returned. I once again heard the voices.

A new voice, from the direction of the poking. “That’s a funny lookin’ Cutie mark. Why would a pony have a number fer a cutie mark?” The voice brought images of open fields, blue skies, and folk music. I could hear the music in her voice as if she were playing the song herself. Guitars and fiddles, stomped feet and happy voices raised in song. I tried to focus on the memory, but it fluttered away again into the void.

“I don’t think that’s a cutie mark.” A third voice, a bit squeaky, on the verge of puberty, yet with the silken tones of someone brought up to speak proper. I suddenly pictured a small girl with curly hair and rosy cheeks. Something about a temple? Lollipops? And again, it’s gone. “That looks more like a burn!”

“Oh wow, mebbe it’s a brand! I read that ancient tribes used to use hot pieces of metal to brand their flanks and tell one tribe from another, as well as tell when they had become adults.” The first voice was an image of open road and leather. Firelight and rolling waves. The image faded just as fast, and there was silence from her friends. “What? If Rainbow Dash can be cool reading, then so can I!” She was met with the sound of giggles. Yes, she. I realised that all three were female children, and quite young, although I could not remember how I knew this. “Aww, geeze, I hate you guys.”

“Where did ya git a book like that? Ah never saw no book bout tribes at school.” The bold country voice spoke again, and I swear I smelled apples. What’s an apple?

“Oh, I was lookin’ for Rainbow Dash, and stopped at the Library. She was busy reading with Twilight, so I hung out and looked at some random stuff. Twilight had some old book open about the history of cutie marks, and I started reading it for ideas on how to get ours. It was really cool!” I heard the flapping of wings and the thud of limbs as she crowed her discovery. Every word, each voice, brought memories. Sounds, smells, images of things I should know but could not remember.

“I don’t know. Having a scar as a cutie mark seems pretty extreme, even for you Scootaloo. I bet it hurts a lot, like alot a lot!” The sweet voiced girl with curls, sounding unsure.

“Well it’s better than being a blank flank forever.” Arrogance and confidence.

“Whatcha think kilt him? And what’s that brown stuff all over his fur?” Apples and rich earth.

“It’s blood. You crash as much as I do, and you never forget the smell of blood. Tastes pretty bad too.” Open skies, the smell after a storm.

“Oh no! What could be mean enough to kill an alicorn? Aren't they immortal, like the princesses?” Fresh linen, a child’s smiling face.

“He ain't no real ally-corn, see, his horn is fake. It’s all metallic-y an stuff. Not a proper horn at all!” A stolen kiss, and warm pie.

“Well the wings are real enough, although they are in pretty bad shape. It looks like somepony stitched them back on badly.” A brisk mountain breeze, and an crackling fire.

“His whole body looks stitched together, like a rag doll. He’s all patchy and different colors. And his mane! Somepony shaved off his mane!” A flower opening, birdsong in flight.

I felt a gentle touch along my head, and I longed to lean into it, but my body still would not obey me. Just as quick it was gone again, and I felt alone in the darkness.

“I don’t think all of this is his blood, although it looks like a lot of it came from that wound on his throat. It must have been a really nasty fight, either way.” A proud lion, and a cowering cub. Sunset over the desert.

“Ah’m not sure he’s really dead. I think I saw him breath just now.” A tree in bloom, and sweet lemonade. Cool shade on a sunny day. “We should go tell somepony!”

“There’s no way anypony can bleed that much and live. Besides, you promised not to tell anypony. You Pinkie promised!” Fireworks at night, and a roller coaster along the beach.

Finally I felt something give, and light started to penetrate my starving eyes. In response to my efforts to move, I felt the first tremors of movement from my body, and stranger images invaded my view. Suddenly another voice echoed flatly in my head, as if part of my skull were vibrating. The voice matched words that danced in my still darkened vision.

SYSTEM ONLINE.
REPAIRS COMPLETE.
RESUMING MANUAL CONTROL.

Meanwhile I had missed part of the conversation, as my body started to respond. Systems? What was I, a robot? No, this felt too real. I could smell the blood on my muzzle, and taste it in my mouth. My body responded with a slow inhale of breath as it began to revive from whatever had happened to it. Machines can’t feel, can they?

“Girls?” The sweet voice sounded worried. She was ignored by her friends as they argued in the manner of children.
“Is not!”
“Are too!”

“Girls?”

“Is not!”
“Are too!”

“GIRLS!” her voice cracked and squeaked cutely as I could smell her fear rolling in waves.

“WHAT?”
“WHAT?” in unison, the argument ended and forgotten as they responded to their frightened friend’s cry.

“I think he’s waking up!” This was met with a pair of gasps.

Slowly I opened my eyes, and beheld a sight as strange as the visions and sensations I had been seeing. Three small creatures stood staring at me, as different from each other as the colors of the rainbow, but clearly crafted from a similar mold. Four legs, and a rounded body and head, with large wide eyes stared at me in a mixture of horror and fascination. The similarities ended there, as each was colored totally different from the next. Even their bodies were different. Where one had wings, and the other had a horn, the third had neither. I must have blinked, for they all gasped in unison, and took another step back. Drawing in a long ragged breath, I blinked again.

The orange one with the wings and mulberry hair recovered first. “Wow mister, you have the coolest eyes! They are different colors like the rest of you!”

The yellow one with the red hair and matching bow kicked her friend and scowled. “Scootaloo! That ain't very polite. You ain't s’posed ta talk ‘bout ponies like that. He might be sensitive ‘bout his eyes, er sumpthin!”

The white one with the horn and purple and pink curly hair, (at least I got that part right) took a step forward with worry in her eyes replacing the fear of a moment before. “Are you alright mister? You look pretty hurt. Can we help you get to a doctor or something?”

I blinked again. My thoughts were still a jumble, and I still hadn't managed to get my body to do more than breathe and blink. Slowly I felt my limbs respond, and I pushed myself upright. My neck and joints popped and protested loudly, earning some worried looks from two, and a grin from the winged pony.

Pony. Yes, that word seemed to fit. These little children were ponies. More words and memories trickled in. They were young female ponies, and I was an older male pony. Colt. Yes, that word fit. Other words flitted through my mind, Stallion, Mare, Filly, Pegasus, Unicorn, Earth Pony. I turned to face them and smiled back. The result was less than I had hoped for. One of them actually screamed. I stopped smiling, and they calmed down a bit.

“Geeze mister, that has gotta be the scariest grin I have ever seen! What the hay happened to you?” The pegasus... Scootaloo, asked with a disgusted look.

I tried to respond, but was only able to produce a strangled moan. I reached up with a hoof to my throat, and felt the stickiness of blood, and the tough scar tissue beneath. Whatever had happened had damaged my throat. I was effectively mute.

“Whassa matter, cat got yer tongue?” the yellow filly cocked one eye in a skeptical look. I felt around in my mouth with what was obviously a tongue. That was fine, but why were some of my teeth pointy? No wonder my smile had frightened them.

In response, I blew a raspberry, and got a giggle from the trio. I then pointed to my throat, and shook my head. They got the message.

“Awww, he can’t speak! That must be horrible. I once went to a singing recital, and couldn't talk for a whole day, it was terrible! My sister Rarity said it was the best day of her life though. I dunno, but I sure didn't like it!” The unicorn prattled on, and stepped closer to rub against my shoulder in sympathy. I smiled back, lips closed this time, and nuzzled her curly mane.

“So who are you? What are you?” the yellow pony lost some of her suspicious gaze, and was once again smiling. I thought for a moment, but the needed information refused to come, and I finally just shrugged.

“Ooh, I know! I read this one book by somepony named Mare Shelly. It was about some crazy doctor named Flankenstein, that took pieces of ponies and sewed them all together. Then he took a brain from another pony, and stuck it in the creature’s head. Finally he got his pegasus assistant Fly-Gor to make a storm and shock the pony until it came alive!” Scootaloo started telling a story, bouncing around pantomiming the various roles, as she warmed into her narrative. “He was real mean to the creature and it attacked him, and then the villages nearby chased after it. Finally the creature hid in an old barn where a filly found him and tried to be friends, but the villagers came and burned it down. The little filly was hurt and he went on a berserk rampage and killed everypony! It was the best monster story ever!”

During the story, small flashes of memory teased me. Somehow the story seemed right to me, but something was wrong, like it was incomplete. I saw a pony in a lab coat, with stripes like a zebra, yet a horn like a pony. I saw a room full of pony parts in jars, and saw a mirror. I turned to the mirror, and gazed into the face of a creature like my first vision. “You guys wanna see a dead body?” The words drifted back to me, but I could tell they were not my own.

The earth pony rounded on her friend, coming to my defense. “Darnit Scootaloo, you apologize! He is not a monster, he is a pony like us. We don't know what kinda stuff happened to him, an it’s not nice to say bad things bout a pony jus cuz ya dun know em! Remember mah friend Zecora?”

“Yea, you’re right, Applebloom.” Ears down, the orange filly didn't quite meet my eyes. “I’m sorry mister. I didn't mean to call you a monster.” I nodded sagely and patted her on her head, getting a smile in return.

“Well what do we call you then, mister?” the white filly piped up. In return I could only shrug. I didn't even know my own name. “Oh, I know! Since your coat looks all patched together like a quilt, we can call you Patches!”

I cocked an eyebrow, then looked back over my flank at my hide. Indeed, no two parts of me were the same color. Mismatched wings (which still refused to move), two flanks of different colors, and a black tail. Other pieces of my hide were sewed on like a badly patched blanket with thin pink scarring peeking through between the seams. On my buttock was a large ugly scar, in the shape of the number 9. I had no idea what it meant. Turning back to the eagerly nodding unicorn, I shrugged and nodded in return. I couldn't think of anything better anyway.

“Yay! Patches is our new best friend!” She turned and pointed out each of her comrades, I’m Sweetie Belle, this is Applebloom, and that’s Scootaloo.” Putting her hoof to her mouth, she whispered loudly in my ear, “Don't call her a chicken, or she gets really mad!”

“HEY!” the pegasus yelled angrily, before the three of them collapsed into a fit of laughter. I joined in, but the mirth ended in another collective gasp as I forgot to keep my mouth closed.

“Umm, yea. First things first, we need ta git you all cleaned up, an’ you gotta git that blood outta yer mouth. Every time ya smile, it looks like yer gonna eat us!” Applebloom rolled her eyes at me.

I cocked my eyebrow at them for a moment, then rolled my eyes back into my head and gave my biggest sadistic grin. This time it was met with giggles and laughter, instead of gasps and screams. A warm feeling washed over me as I started to follow them away from the ditch I had been found in. I didn't know who I was, what I was, or where I was, but I already had friends, and for now that was good enough for me.

Author's Note:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Do02tQxjEFx5pZqDnWuMhsAgG9WufqGkpJOfQ8vaig4

Finally got my editor to edit this...

Behold, my Monster Fic!