It Started with That Humming

by TypewriterError

In So Little Time

“No further questions, Your Honor.” the Prosecution says.

“Dr. Gait, you may step down from the stand.” the judge says with a nod. He gives me a weak smile. The evidence is shaky. I admitted I did it because I enjoyed it. They’ll lock me up again. Who knows how long it is for aggravated assault? I probably should have slept last night.

“You may call your next witness, Mr. Brief.”

“The Prosecution would like to call Miss Screw Loose to the stand.”

I knew it had to be coming. Azalea’s parents glare at me as I walk to the stand. Another pony approaches me and holds up a ceremonial sword.

“Put your hoof on the hilt and repeat after me,“ I put my hoof on the hilt and feel the cold metal wake me up a bit, “I swear by the Royal Sisters to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” I repeat, smothering a yawn just in time.

“You may take a seat.” the judge says. I sit and blearily glance up at the advancing lawyer. I can tell just by looking at him that he already has this case wrapped up. I wonder if telling them I had a daughter would help or hinder my case? It probably wasn’t best for my parents to find out I was a mother when I tell a bunch of strangers in court. I really want to be able to look for her. The adrenaline I get from anticipation helps me sit up straighter. I might be able to keep myself out of jail if I don't fall asleep when he's asking me questions.

“Miss Loose, You’ve made significant progress mentally these past few months, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Almost miraculous?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not? Was there a miracle pill that made you better? or did doing the same thing after four years seem boring to you all of a sudden?”

“Neither of those reasons. I don’t know what helped me get better.”

“That’s rather convenient isn’t it?”

“I don’t remember four years of my life. How is that convenient?”

“Have you not considered how inconvenienced my client is?”

“Yes I have but—”

“So when did you do all this thinking about how she suffered?”

“Since I these past few months. SInce my mind was restored.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?” I ask, honestly not remembering the question.

“Do you enjoy thinking about how my client suffers? An upstanding pony and aspiring nurse before you attacked her?”

“No.”

“Really? But, didn’t you say that you enjoy hurting her.”

“Your Honor, I object! He is misquoting her and taking her statements out of context!”

“Acknowledge, Mr. Brief, watch yourself.”

“My apologies. A better way to ask would be does not some part of you feel like this is perfect vengeance for how she treated you?”

I blink repeatedly before answering. I know this is my chance to apologize, “What I did to Azalea was wrong, no matter how I was treated. I regret deeply what I did to her.”

“But was your attack not revenge?”

“No. It was a foalish reaction. I was letting stress and emotion get to me.” I said, this time my irritation was keeping me awake.

“Miss Loose, I could help but notice in your interview you showed little remorse—”

“I show remorse differently than most ponies. I haven’t slept in the past fifty plus hours.”

“Is the worry that keeps you up—”

“Your Honor, I object! She did not state that it was worry.”

And so the trial continues. I stumble on for what feels like an hour, answering questions then answering questions about my answers then answer questions about the answers to the questions about my answers. I almost have to slap myself to keep awake. Finally, my lawyer comes and completely overturns what the Prosecution had done. I think. I lost my ability to pay attention back when he was asking about my GPA before my breakdown. Not sure what he needs that for.

“No further questions, Your Honor.” my lawyer says. I nod thanks and close my eyes for only a moment. I feel a nudge.

“Miss Loose!” the judges voice booms at me. I jump in my seat. I must have drifted off in a matter of seconds. I stumble out of the stand and almost collapse onto the table. Basically, if the Prosecution can prove that I have not been insane these past few years, and that I attacked Azalea out of pleasure, they win. What my lawyer has to do is convince twelve strangers that I have been insane for the past few years and that was driven mad by my roommate. At least I think that’s what has to be proven.

Drat, they’re nudging me up again.

“The Defense rests, Your Honor.” my lawyer says. What just happened? Were Dr. Gait and I really the only witnesses? Or did I really sleep through the whole trial after my part?

My parents enter and sit on the other side of me. My lawyer looks at me, incredulous.

“I told you to get sleep last night!”

“I couldn’t help it. I was nervous.” I say, resting my head on my mother’s shoulder.

“Well, maybe they’ll deliberate enough for you to nap it off.”

“They don’t seem to think that the Prosecution has a case.” my dad says.

“Well, if they were paying attention, yes, but I think he successfully confused half of them about what the trial was attempting to prove...”

Everything fades as I slide forwards from my mother’s shoulder onto the table to close my eyes. I look up. The sky is a field of cotton candy. The night and day keep switching back and forth every couple of minutes and I think I can smell chocolate. I look down at the grass beneath me and find a pink and purple checkerboard plastered over the ground. A wind whistles a jazzy beat. I'm so confused. I know this memory well.

Ok I didn’t have to get nudged so hard!

“Stand up. They have the verdict.” my lawyer says in a fervent whisper.

“Have you reached a decision?” the judge asks the jury. A light yellow mare with red and beige hair stands.

“We have, Your Honor. We the jury upholds the previous decision of Screw Loose vs. Azalea Meadows. Screw Loose is not guilty for her actions due to insanity.”

Not guilty. I don’t register that my parents are hugging me. My father is crying into my mane and my mother almost chokes me. I’m not guilty? How is that even possible? And why did they say “previous decision of Screw Loose vs. Azalea?”

“Miss Screw Loose. You have already been deemed mentally stable by official doctors. You are free to return to your home. Case dismissed.”

I’m free. I’m free to go home. My parents half lead/half pull me out of the courtroom. I’m free to go home. Just like that. If those glares I feel are coming from Azalea’s parents I don’t have the strength and stability to look at them. I’m too dizzy to care. I’m free. I’m free to go. I’m free to go and try to find my daughter.

I’m sure I thank my lawyer before leaving, I’m not sure. I think somepony takes my picture too. What I remember strongest is that my parents and I enter a carriage. The ride takes off, rolling away from the marble columns and gold accents of the Ponyville County Courthouse. The top is up on the carriage, being pulled by six strong stallions, and it shades my eyes as I close them and lean against my mother. Her foreleg wraps around me and she cradles me close. I have to be sure to cradle my own daughter like this at some point.

I barely spent any time with my child when she was born. My dream replays that memory almost every night in full detail. Eleven months of pregnancy happened a total of eleven minutes and to say it was incredibly painful would be an insensitive understatement. I remember that after I delivered my daughter I lay there for at least five or ten minutes. I almost passed out.

A sharp elbow nudges me, and the sharp pains suddenly disappear. I open my eyes and look up.

“Well, it’s a girl.” a resonant voice says to me. I look into the face of the wriggling filly he is holding.

“What is wrong with her eyes?” I asked, startled, as I stare into two swirls of light and dark purple that point in different directions.

“She’s half chaos, what did you expect?” Discord says as he sits down directly in front of me, the filly finally settled in his arms.

“But, is she blind? Will her eyes ever go back to normal?”

“Eugh! Gag! Why would you want that?”

“Well, as her mother I don’t want her having a scarred childhood because nopony wants to play with her.” I say, pushing myself up the hill behind me so I can sit more comfortably. The pain is lessening enough to be curious.

“She doesn’t need other ponies to play with her. She can make her own friends depending on how well she masters chaos.”

“She needs normal friends.”

"What is your obsession with normal?"

"I...I just don't want to have a child who ends up..." I looked at him again. Best not to use the word I was thinking of. I finish my sentence, "I don't want her to be hated."

“Screwy, are you going to argue with me or are you going to hold your daughter?”

“Don’t call me, Screwy! I hated that nickname growing up!”

“Fine. Screw Loose,” he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “Are you going to hold her?”

Hold it? I look at those eyes again. It's half chaos. It doesn't even have a chance of being normal. I don’t even want to look at it. What had I brought into the world? It’s not a pony. It can’t be my daughter. This... this thing was not something I had bargained for. I had always pictured my daughter being a normal pony like me or better. I wanted her to have a chance of being liked and accepted.

Would Discord be willing to take full custody of it? Those eyes did not look healthy and would certainly set her apart when she grew up. I didn’t want that for my child when I would have one. A sneeze ruffled its body completely, poofing out its mane and tail.

“Germs! Catch!” Discord yelps and tosses the filly at me.

I catch her. Her eyes roll around in her head for a moment then look straight at me. Her little mouth opens and a small squeak comes out, not sounding like alarm but...recognition. This is mine. It...knows who I am. It loves me. This thing...loves me. This is my child. This...chaotic mess is my daughter. My heart breaks. This emblem of discord and disharmony, with eyes that nobody could ever love, is my daughter. This adorable hodgepodge...is somepony I created. Fifteen minutes ago she didn’t even exist and now she’s here. How can I change so completely is so little time? She doesn’t even look anything like me. How can...how can she know I’m her mother? She sneezes again.

“Get her a blanket. She’s cold.” I say. In an instant she is wrapped in a fluffy purple blanket. How can I feel so much and not explode? How could my feelings change from being disgusted to enraptured with one little sneeze? This child is mine. I could keep staring at these little hooves, this little muzzle, and her crazy hair for the rest of my life. I can watch her grow up, hear her voice, find out what she loves. I hold her close and a part of me aches inside. I just want to hold this moment and live in it forever.

“Times up, Daddy’s turn.” Discord says and wraps his tail around me to pull us all closer together. He scoops the filly into his arms and holds her close to his chest. I want to protest, but then I watch his face. He was a pony when I first saw him. I had no idea what sort of a...thing he really was. After he turned into his normal form I could do nothing but be terrified and disgusted of him. But...as he looked at her, his eyes dilate and shimmer. The teasing grin he had on his face slowly slips away. I can see the ache in his eyes. Did I look like that when I was holding her? His mouth hangs open at first then closes and curls up in a smile that pushes tears from his eyes. I realize I'm smiling with him.

“She’s beautiful.” I say.

“Oh she is. She is the perfect little abomination!” He declares. His eyes streaming. My smile drops.

“You really know how to kill a moment don’t you?”

“You know you thought it too, dear.” he says, quickly bopping me on the muzzle with his left...claw?

“Well, what are we going to name her?”

“Mayhem of course.”

“...I don’t like it.”

“Well we have to name this fluffiness something!”

“Cotton Candy?”

“I mean, we can’t just give her any name. It needs to denote her chaotic origins.”

“How about Swirly?”

“It needs to speak for my elegance.”

“What elegance?”

“No, We’re not naming her ‘Elegance.’ That’s so...Rarity?”

“That works I guess...”

“No, I meant Rarity would probably name her spawn ‘Elegance’ if she ever has any. Although my daughter’s name should show how unique I am.”

“We’re not renaming you, Discord. We’re naming this little one.” I say, sitting up and nuzzling my bundled daughter.

“Well, I’m not going to give her a name I don’t like.”

“We could just wait until she gets her cutie mark.”

“But what to call her until then? Little Discord? Screwy?”

“Fluffy?”

“Ugh....predictable and it’s no fun to shout the name Fluffy.”

“All right then, until she gets her cutie mark, lets call her Mayhem.” I say, tired, “Now may I hold her again?”

“I’m still holding her.”

“I’m her mother.”

“Better idea.” He takes his left arm and pulls me on top of him as he reclines on a soft hill. I can wrap my forelegs around her and see her face perfectly. His claw rests on my shoulder as he holds us both close to him. This is the first tie he's held me in his real form. I'm not sure if I can get used to it. I still have some questions to ask before the drowsiness overtakes me. The pain is almost gone but I'm still exhausted.

“Exactly how did I go from not pregnant to here in only a few minutes?”

“I can accelerate time if I desire. I accelerated her growth so I could spend more time with her.”

“Hmm.” I say, meaning “makes sense.” Discord does make an incredibly comfy pillow.

“By the way...I didn’t tell you this before—I might not have much time left—I want you to take care of her until I can find a more permanent way to take care of her.”

"Figures...” I mumble, closing my eyes after glancing at little Mayhem, who is already asleep.

“We’ll discuss it later. Just keep her hidden when I'm gone.”

I open my eyes to the carriage. My heart drops deeper into my chest the more awake I become. I have no idea where to start looking for her. I have no idea what name she goes by or if she is still called Mayhem. I hope not and I hope so at the same time. It could be easier to find her if that is her name but it’s not a name I’m fond of. I just gave up fighting for a different name so I could take a nap. I didn’t know I would never see her again.

I have no idea what my parents are going to say. I mean, I had a child with an enemy if the Royal Family. I’m not even sure why I agreed to do it in the first place. Maybe I wasn’t entirely sane that moment I met him. No matter what, I can’t change what happened. I can just try to find her. That’s all I have left to do. I feel my journal sit in the front of my dress suit that I wore for the trial. As soon as I get home I’m going to write out the first journal entry. It’s been in my mind for so long that I almost have it memorized. I’ll give it to Mayhem when I find her. I will find her, no matter what I have to do.

Author's Note:

Yeah...I know. This chapter weirded me out when I was writing it.

Comments

[Ms_Fruit_Bat]

I thought she was knocked up when she went insane and had her while Screwy tought she was a dog.
This is much more interesting.

[Someguy987]

Dude you're goin in a wierd ass direction with this. Keep. It. Up.

[Listener]

Interesting...
Go on. :P

[Blueshcool]

Awesome! More i hope!

[Felipe_9595]

Dat Screwball

Btw, i just noticed that Discord is a recurrent theme for you :P