Live a Little

by Astrocity

Alone

If I had known being dead would be this lonely, then I wish I was buried under a blanket of dirt. At least I wouldn’t be bored. But then I would have to deal with bugs crawling inside me. Just thinking about it is gross.

You can never tell if you’re dead or not. I certainly didn’t know when I woke up. Though, I guess the stiff limbs and a missing heartbeat should’ve been a big hint. I’ve also noticed that every creature in the forest seemed to avoid me, even the big ones. But, I’m not complaining about not being able to meet a manticore up close. I doubt anyone would.

I guess I should count myself lucky that I don’t look like someone’s leftover meal. I’ve seen some poor animals look way worse than me. As for me, I got out with a limp and a most likely rotting corpse of a body.

I don’t remember much. I try to piece together my memory, but there are too many gaps, like pages torn from a book. I have some idea of how I died from what’s left of my memory. I think I was running. Yes, that’s it. Running. I remember it being dark in the forest. I’m pretty sure it’s the one I’m in now. All trees look the same to me. Everything becomes a blur after that. The next thing I know, I found myself lying in a ditch with my face in the mud. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to wake up. A bad concussion, a broken neck, a heart attack--it could be any one of these causes. I try not to dwell too much on it. What's done is done. I wouldn't want to remember the gruesome details anyway.

At least I found a lovely blue flower next to me.

Patches of these flowers are around the forest. I make sure to pick up one or two flowers whenever I come across them. They make a great accessory behind my ear. When you’re as grossly pale as me, you’ll find anything to make yourself as close to beautiful, or at least normal.

I’d kill for some make-up right now. No, not literally. I don’t kill. Ponies will probably think that I do, but I don’t. With my zombie hooves, how can I? I can barely stand up straight. And what would be the point of killing someone? Just so I can eat them? Well, that’s pretty stereotypical. I can’t taste anything, and I don’t feel hunger anymore. I mean, I could try eating someone, but I don’t see any point in it. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to talk, but in a forest filled with dangerous creatures, I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.

I go through the same routine everyday: wander around the forest for something new to look at, pick flowers, and stand around like the zombie I am. Right now, I’m standing in front of a creek. I’m staring at the pony in the reflection under the first rays of morning.

I look horrible. There are twigs in my mane, now ragged and tangled. The gold strands of hair have dulled over time. My coat and my hooves are dirty, days’ worth of mud clinging to them. My eyes have an empty look in them. They match the color of my flower, which is beginning to wilt in its place behind my ear. I will have to pick up more soon. I must have looked pretty once.

It’s sad. I’m staring at myself, trying to imagine what I must have looked like, but I can’t remember my name. I’ve lost the most important thing from my old life. You don’t really miss something until it’s gone. You come across so many names in your life that you don’t really think about your own name. It’s just something that you sign on a paper or give out like a greeting card. But now that my name is gone, I feel empty and numb, kind of like being dead itself. On the bright side, there hasn’t been anyone asking for my name.

I try to work my mouth. There’s only a numb feeling in my tongue and jaw, but I can see the pony in the creek trying to open her mouth. I should consider getting a toothbrush at the first opportunity I can. A heavy moan leaves my mouth. It’s full of dust from disuse, like many of the words from my old life.

It takes a couple tries to actually say something, but I managed to let out a feeble, “Hi.” It comes out raspy and forced.

I have to work on my greetings more. I need to learn how to talk to ponies again. But another part of me finds that thought silly. I haven’t seen any pony for days, and I don’t think they’d stop to have a chat with someone like me. It’s almost guaranteed that they’ll run away and scream their heads off.

I shake my head and trot forward into the water. It probably feels cold. I can’t tell anymore. I dunk my head under the water and swish it around to get the twigs out of my hair. My head pulls up, dripping wet.

My gaze is towards the sky. The clouds are moving towards the sun. I should head in that direction today. I walk out of the creek, only slightly cleaner than before and completely wet. I head towards the sunrise.

It’s always quiet wherever I go. Birds suddenly stop chirping. The leaves stop rustling. It’s as if I stepped in and ruined whatever mood was there.

I sigh.

It’s just one of the perks of being a zombie, I guess.

There’s a slight movement under a brush not far from me. I hobble over to it. What I find is a wolf made of wood. Timberwolves tend to prowl around the area, but usually in packs. This one was alone. It bares its teeth and lets out a low growl. I would’ve let it be after that growl of warning, but the odd way it was hunched over got me curious. I take a step closer to get a better look, but a loud snarl stops me from going any further. The timberwolf had a broken branch for one of its front legs. It must’ve been left for dead by the others.

I take a step back and trot away. About twenty steps away, I find what I need by a sizable tree. I come back to the timberwolf where it still remained, still as “friendly” as the first meeting. It watches me cautiously with its maw open and ready to bite. I walk slowly towards it and drop a thick branch from my mouth.

I can't let it die like this. I’m sure it would be thankful for getting a second chance at life. I know I would.

The malice in the wolf’s eyes fades away, replaced by curiosity. It crawls closer to the branch and lays its broken leg against it. A green glow shimmers around the branch and attaches it to its leg, melding it in place.

I watch with a blank look on my face.

Once it was fixed up, the timberwolf stands up and walks in circles, testing its new leg out. When it looks at me again, I reach out to it with my hoof. It runs away.

I’m alone again.

Now that it can run again, why else would it need me? It probably ran off to its pack or wherever in Equestria it wants to go. Anywhere but where I am.

I drop my hoof and moan. Nothing stays forever. It’s probably better off that way. I’d probably slow it down. Why’d I ever think it would stay around with a dead pony like me?

What is wrong with me?

I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I did something good, and that timberwolf is happier than it was before I came along. Maybe someone will stumble into me and change my life too.

I continue my walk, going through the thickets and brambles and earning more twigs and leaves in my mane. I wish I can walk faster. I think snails crawl faster than me, and probably lap me a couple times too.

This was going to be a long day.

By the time the sun had begun to set, I made it to a patch of wild blue flowers. I’m giddy at the sight of them, though my face doesn’t show it. I walk to the flowers and collapse on top of them. I roll around, getting the petals on my fur and in my hair. I would pick up a flower and smell it, but I can’t smell anything. I imagine they smell good.

I stop rolling and lie comfortably on my bed of flowers, my face buried in the petals. I pluck one of them with my teeth and fling it onto my head. My hooves do the rest in fixing it into place behind my ear, replacing the wilted one.

I lie there for quite some time. Night arrives and the stars and the moon come to greet me. This is what I look forward to every night. This would be the second time I’ve seen a full moon since I woke up. I lie on my back to get a better view. The stars may leave, but they’ll always come back. Day after day, night after night, I wander the earth aimlessly as a corpse reanimated. If I’m supposed to be dead, then why am I here?

The stars don’t answer me. No one is around to give me answers. I’m alone with my thoughts.

I wonder if that timberwolf found its pack. What is it doing right now? No, bad question. It’s most likely trying to get its meal right now. Now I kind of feel bad. I helped a timberwolf live so that something else can die. Something was going to die either way. Everyone has to die at some point. Now that’s a morbid thought. But does that mean I’ll die again? This is too confusing. A walk ought to do me some good. Well, I’m dead already, but it can’t hurt, you know?

I trot out the field and follow a new direction.

I stumble in the darkness for who knows how long. I’m so bored. There’s nothing to see at night. At least during the day I’m not just staring at darkness for hours. If I could sleep, I would, but as I’ve learned, the dead don’t sleep. One can only dream. That’s funny. It’s nice to know my sense of humor isn’t dead.

I sigh. I miss being able to dream.

I pass by a sleeping hydra. You really don’t want to wake them up. Nasty temper and all that. And who can forget all those mouths that can rip a pony to shreds? I may be dead, but I’m not brainless enough to wake up a hydra.

Oh, gross.

Not far from it, I see the gory mess of its recent prey. I think it might’ve been a chicken or something at one point. Don’t look back and keep walking. I move a little faster to get away as quick as possible.

I come across something hiding in a bush. The snapping of a twig catches my attention. If that wasn’t obvious, then the rustling of the bush would be an obvious hint that something was there. I wait for a while until the bush shakes again, as if something was trying to grab my attention. This was new.

I hobble over to it, but by the time I get over there, whatever was hiding in the bush was gone. Another rustling of leaves draws my attention much further away. I follow it again. Some part of me hoped it was the wolf again. Maybe it wants to play with me. This long process of hide-and-go-seek keeps going.

The forest around me grows unfamiliar. I don’t think I’ve been in this part of the forest. It’s less dark. The moonlight touches the ground more often. Something new catches my eye: a hut made from a large tree. I try to peek inside through the window, but it’s too dark to see anything. But, there were definitely snores coming from inside.

Another twig snaps. When I turn to find where the next rustling bush might be, I, instead, find a worn dirt path on the ground. It’s a path probably used by ponies, though I wonder what kind of ponies would wander into this forest. Then again, I was one of those ponies.

I follow it.

The snapping of twigs and the shaking of leaves have stopped. It seems our game is over. The night brightens up the longer I trudge under the canopy of leaves. At the end of my path, I see an exit for the first time. I take a few steps forward and look back at the dark forest. I see a wooden tail vanish behind a tree. I would smile if I could. The best I can do is wave a stiff goodbye before heading to the exit.

A flood of sunlight washes me. I’m happy that I got to see the timberwolf one last time. In the distance, I see a small town. I walk towards it, knowing full well that there will be actual living ponies there, and for the first time ever, I don’t feel lonely.

Author's Note:

An interesting little idea to get back into writing. When you're stuck in a slump, sometimes the only thing to do is just write anything. Even if it is 4 a.m. in the morning. Also, it feels great to try out different writing styles.

Comments

[The Letter J]

This is looking good so far. I look forward to more.

[Dustchu]

Huh... interesting...

I am intrigued and inspired to write something... oh lordy what have you done.
Nice job.

[FullMoon]

So, was it the timberwolf that was rustling the leaves? She says she is glad she saw the timberwolf one last time, but there is nothing said about the timberwolf showing up before that.

[Vinci The ClockWork Pony]

8309500

I take a few steps forward and look back at the dark forest. I see a wooden tail vanish behind a tree.

Silly one.