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Hearts of Granite Do Not Crack1,180 words
Eyes of Stone1,075 words
A Piece of You 1,024 words
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Hearts of Granite Do Not Crack

Hearts of Granite Do Not Crack
~~~~~

It seems to be really dark. Really, really, dark.

I swear, the blackness is killing me. The unchanging, static, orderly black is suffocating me. Its clawing me to shreds and pieces, then slamming me back whole, only to repeat the agonizing process, forever torturing me. It is so dark. Not even pitch is lightless. It is all a hazy fog of raven, drifting about me, obscuring my vision.

I cannot see.

I cannot breathe. The black smothering me. It has no smell, no taste, no texture, no colour, no shadow, no…no…nothing.

It is nothing.

I can’t stand it.

Somepony please end it.

I remember laughing. I remember walking on the greenest grass I’d ever seen, the tickling feeling underfoot, the earthy smell of upturned dirt, the golden trees, the yellow sun…and I remember chaos. Beautiful, wonderful, chaos. All the vivid senses heightening your imagination. Purple and pink chessboards, spongy and soft to touch, the distorted realms that would be a perfectionist’s nightmare, clouds of all sorts of flavours, raining colourful dyes and liquids to stain the little beings who enjoyed their life in this existence.

Except that they did not enjoy it.

They scream their terror to the heavens, begging some entity from beyond the sky to end their pathetic suffering, begging the chaos to stop, screaming, running, causing quite a riot. Their stomping hooves create a beautiful cacophony of mayhem, but it was one I did not like. Well, not at first, anyway. But there was no god for them, was there? I was the closest thing.

They hide their little, innocent foals away from the “corruption”, shielding them from any slightest chaotic exposure, each filly and colt moulded and twisted into somepony who would be a repeat of their previous generations. How utterly and completely boring.

It is so maddening for ponies to not understand, to forever continue their endless, unchanging cycle, eternally a minuscule and insignificant stich on reality’s tapestry, following order to a deathly extent. And it hurt that they would stop, that they would be angry with someone who goes against it, who breaks the rules. And it hurt that they would do anything to destroy you.

Well, at first it did, anyway.

Then my hurting stopped. Their cries of ‘Monster!’ no longer got to me. The resounding ‘Freak!’ no longer made me shy away, cowering. It just stopped. I no longer let it touch me. I no longer let anyone get to me. I pushed anyone who got in my way, the right way, to break the order, to cause the chaos. I was too far away from anypony.

I stopped my pain.

Ponies said I had a heart of stone, shrieking as I turned their hooves into candy canes. I laughed. Ponies said I had no heart. I taunted in return, jibe for jibe. Soon, that became a pattern too. I had no heart. My heart was stone, harder than granite.

But do granite hearts break?

There’s a feeling of ache where my chest should be, like stone shattering into shards and piercing through my chest like deadly needles.

Not that I know how that feels like or anything.

There is a gaping hollow in a part of my brain where all my bad memories and buried, far, far below my mind’s surface. And I would like them to stay there, thank you very much.

I will not remember them.

I cannot remember them.

Everything is fading. All concept of time here is fractured, useless. I know not how long I have been here. I think it has been eternity. Maybe it was yesterday. What happened yesterday? Was it the day the two ponies came to stop me? Their faces are obscured for some reason. All my memories are blurred. Maybe I never really existed. Never have, never will.

Maybe it was all a dream. No such thing as reality, no such thing as ponies, no such thing as hearts, no such thing as candy, no such thing as sight, no such thing as…as…chaos.

Ow.

That hurt. Really, really badly. Maybe I have a heart after all. Maybe it’s made of granite. Do granite hearts break? That seems familiar somehow, but I can’t remember where. It’s all black here. No light, no sight, no movement, no body, no chaos, no eyes, no senses, no chaos, no chaos…

There is no one.

I am alone. Alone forever with my faded memories, with my imagination, talking to myself, but not actually talking. I am insane, of course. And I wish I could just die. I wish they would die. Everyone will die. I am going to kill them all. I will separate the ponies into little gory pieces, tearing off limb after limb, front hooves, then back, blood trickling down my chin and staining my claws a lovely and fashionable shade of red. And I will laugh.

Oh dear, that’s horribly dark. And specific. I almost thought it was real for a moment. If I close my eyes tight, I would almost believe it. Except that I have no eyes. I never had. Nothing is real. My pain is not real; I am not real. At least the ponies are not real, too. I hate them. I hate them. In my mind, I can make the non-existent ponies burn. Then I can kill myself, too. Then I will be dead. What an unusual feeling. How would death be like?

I think I will steer away from that topic now, and go back to hallucinating.

Imagine a perfect world, where a little colt, lived with his loving parents, in a cottage, that was always filled with laughter, happiness, and cotton candy. Imagine that windigos never laid hoof anywhere near. Imagine they lived happily ever after.

Except that they did not.

The cold wind will blow on the little draconequus’s face one wintry day, he will wake to see his family, his species, all frozen statues, static and unmoving, no chaos, dead. They will be all solid ice. Mommy still has a smile on her narrow face, a slender paw draped around little sister Ataxia, the other claw wrapped around cousin Anarchy, who is also beaming. Daddy has a conspiratorial twitch on his muzzle, and still has a paw supporting the giant cake, balanced on an impossibly small plate. They are buried deep in conversations for the surprise birthday party.

The birthday cake was frozen too.

I think I may be crying. I can’t tell. Am I crying? Why do I care? I don’t remember how to cry.

I don’t think tears exist anyway, nothing exists.

What was I talking about? I can’t remember. Once dreams, hallucinations are over, there will still be nothing. No feeling, no sense of touch or anything, just hollow and static emptiness.

I am so lonely.

It is just forever me, just me, nothing, no one else, just all alone.

“Look! Mommy! The statue is crying!”

Author's Note:

I do not own the MLP Characters.
I hope you liked this, and leave a verbal hug for Discord in the comments below!
Thank you for reading. There will be more chapters out within the fortnight.

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Anstca

Anstca #1 · Jul 21st, 2016 · 2 · 1 ·

That was pretty sad but good. If thats what happened Discord would have been justified in wanting revenge when he was free. just another way thinking about things.

corruption