The Perfect Pony

by TheSadisticJudge

Pluck The Awfully Familiar Flowers

Cobalt Fabric => Pluck The Awfully Familiar Flowers

You are now Cobalt Fabric and you don’t know where or who you are. You are in your house, but you don’t recognize it. Everything in this house is so perfect, nothing like the way you remember it. You look at your hooves and recognize hooves that are not yours.

They were unrealistically pink, along with your forelegs and the rest of your body. Even the nose on your snout – as far as you can tell, is pink as well.

You retch as you fall onto your haunches, a tearing-like feeling happening inside of your brain causes the pain you felt before the Retcon to come back.

Suddenly, your fall onto your sides as nausea erupts inside of you. The agony inside of your head is strong, so strong that you begin leaking rainbow fluid out of your nose. You roll onto your front forelegs but your hind legs won’t let you stand all the way up.

Rainbow fluid is stringing out of your nose, it stains the carpet as you cough up more thick, metallic – yet, candy tasting – liquid rainbow colors onto the shag carpet. The carpets are stained red.

You remember the Retcon. You shouldn’t remember what didn’t happen.

Your head becomes tight; your body feels like a leather skin suit and you can’t breathe, you’re struggling to take a breath with this forbidden knowledge. Your head is so tight, it hurts, it’s cracking your skull from the inside out whatever this pain is.

You scream, but you have no mouth to scream with. Your futile attempt to alleviate the severity of the agonizing affliction is just what it is, futile. You scramble to your feet as you grasp at your face, smearing rainbow fluid across your snout, and you grasp for the neon pink furred flesh covering of your mouth.

You throw yourself up onto your hooves and slam your head against the closest wall you can find in your house. You flip onto your back and you arch yourself, the tip of your hind hoof-toes and the back of your head is the only part touching the carpet.

You scramble back up and charge back into the same wall, head first, but you keep slamming your head onto your wall, hoping that the blunt forces of trauma will eventually knock yourself out to stop the brain splitting pain in your head.

You slammed your head over, and over, and over, and over again until you’re leaking rainbow fluid from your forehead. You fall to the ground, wriggling, rolling, and squiggling around to physically try to reduce the overwhelming flood dam. It was like water is being pumped inside of your head and any moment it was going to burst.

You wish you were dead right about now.

Numbness is the only thing that matters, no matter how you achieve it, it has to come to you now. You shakily pull yourself together and look at the wings on your back, the wings that shouldn’t be on your back.

You reach back and pluck a feather, seeing if it was indeed real. The feather turned white and shortened itself out, resembling a dead white rose petal. You reach further into your right wing and tear out clumps of feathers, quickly, fast, as if you were a ravenous dog tearing into a pigeon.

All of the feathers turn into white rose petals, they all fall off of your now defeathered wing. This wing does not exist.

You grip the wing and it turns to stone. You pull the stone wing off of your body with force, and it snaps right off of your body. You don’t feel pain at all, just numbness over taking the area where the wing used to be. You turn to your left wing and repeat the process.

You rush to the bathroom and retch until you make sick in the toilet. You look up into the mirror, the cracked mirror that was broken years before you bought the small little shop and moved into the home.

You look in the crack; it went down from the top of the rectangle mirror until it reached the center of the mirror – right where your eyes are. On each side of the mirror are two ponies you don’t recognize, yet, they both are familiar.

One of them was a young, beautiful, smiling alicorn, pink fur with a rainbow mane. The other was a sad, disheveled, broken unicorn with a deep violet, unkempt fur with dark blue, matted, graying mane.

The pain in your head is too much to bear, like a balloon that’s been overfilled – past the point of acceptability – your head pops like a balloon.

Cobalt Fabric => Be The Mares in The Mirror

You are now the mares in the mirror, but you cannot be both of them. You must choose to be either or and lost in the skins of your own broken and manifested psyche and inability to let go of the far past or be free and bury the The Perfect Pony or The Mother to let yourself recover!

You are neither, you are no longer The Mother and you were never The Perfect Pony!

You must wake up and focus the blurred line between your insane and twisted perspective and come to the conclusion before it is too late, until you are so hopeless in your pathetic attempts of regression by hiding in your mind to punish yourself by denying yourself of the truth.

This is nobodies bloody fault but your own, and you suffered the dire consequences of your sins. Your time in hell is over, your debts – both to the banks and her – has been long paid and it is time to let go of your remorse, your remorse is killing your mind past the point of recovery. The truth is, there’s nothing you can do to fix this and your wallowing is preventing you from recovering!

Cobalt Fabric => Shed The Skins of your Manifested Broken Psyche

You look down into the sink to find a plucked rose stem with one petal remaining.

You are now wingless, but you are not done.

This skin is the last petal.

Your hooves dig into the gash in your forehead and tear, pulling the pink skin, only to prove it’s elastic like a rubber suit. You stand up on your hind legs to offer extra support as you arch your back and exert all of your strength in pulling the wound left and right.

You stretch the elastic break in the faux skin as wide as your forehead. You go even further, using all of your mustered energy to split apart this snake skin. Your head is free from the clasped grip that is the pink rubbery skin, you continue to split the pink furred body apart – down your chest and down your abdominal region.

All the while, the skin’s rainbow colored blood falls down off of you and drops onto the bathroom floor—it doesn’t appear on the bathroom floor at all, as if it doesn’t exist. If it doesn’t exist, why is it on you, why can you taste it, why can you feel it, why can you smell it?

You knew this is impossible but it’s happening anyways. Your brain is denying the events that is taking place, yet your brain is still processing the information… however muddied it is.

Cobalt Fabric => Shed The Skin.

You have shed the fake skin and as soon as it was off of you, you collapse into a state of conscious paralysis. You are cold and you are alone, you’re so alone and so cold. You wish you could shiver but there is no feeling in your body. You would cry, but you are too mentally exhausted to weep any tears.

“Mum?” You hear from the bathtub and you force yourself to look to your right to peer at bubbles on the floor and the smell of green apples to waft over you. “Mum! I can’t find Charlotte!”

Charlotte, the rubber ducky…

You have to get the rubber duck for her, you struggle to pick yourself up but you manage to do so.

Cobalt Fabric => Retrieve the Charlotte, The Rubber Ducky

You retrieve Charlotte from her room, on her study, and you trot back to the bathroom to give her Charlotte. You notice Charlotte is dusty, but you wash her in the empty sink.

You turn back to the bathtub to find it empty, dry, and the smell of green apples gone.

“Mum!” A voice is calling you from the living room. “Mum!”

Cobalt Fabric => Go into The Living Room.

It’s empty.

“Mum, is lunch almost ready?”

Of course, it’s lunch time!

Cobalt Fabric => Make Lunch For Her

You made her favorite: peanut butter and white rose sandwich. White roses are great for the brain. You place it on a plate, humming her favorite tune from her favorite T.V Show. You smile exhaustedly, it’s hard work but you do it all for her.

You go to the living room again to find it void of her.

She’s always playing hide and seek, that silly filly!

“Mum! I have something to show you~!” You hear her from her room, you place the plate down on the coffee table, next to the healthy tulip flower and the blackened dead – once white now black and bent over rose. “It’s on my bed!”

Cobalt Fabric => Reconnoiter What Your Silly Filly Has To Show You.

You go into her room to find it empty again but you find a hand, or hoof, held mirror on her bed. You picked it up and peered into it.

It’s you, Cobalt Fabric.

But you are so delusional by the past that you are now forever trapped in the endless loop off your memories of being The Mother.

The clock strikes twelve PM.

Comments

[Cuber Snuggles]

And so it begins *A smile slowly grows on my face*