09-25-2020, 10:57 PM
I laugh, and there is no humor to the sound. A trio of starlings erupt from their perches as I do, disturbed from their oh-so-important preening. My teeth snap half hearted at them, missing by miles and more ill tempered for it.
"Do you know," I ask the girl beside me, pink and glittering and not there. "Do you know how fucked up you have to be for even the voices in your head not to believe in you?" I giggle again, the absurdity mind boggling. "Oh well, I guess you'd know all about that." I muse aloud. I killed her, after all, so she'd know better than anyone how decayed I've become.
Decay.
Rot.
Slimy, rotting brain matter coating my hooves and legs and muzzle, the scent of mould and mildew barely touching the stench of long dead flesh, eyes squeezed shut, weeping, no, leaking from their sockets and I'm bashing her head in, my daughter's head in, if I don't she won't stay dead and she'll keep coming back more ruined than before and its all my fault.
I let her die.
Wanted her to die.
And now she's always with me.
That's what I get, I suppose.
A shard of daylight cuts my eyes, and I moan at the suddeness of it. Leaves of amber and gold tangle in my mane and tail, a whimsical touch to my dishelvement. It takes a moment, but I get there eventually. Remember that I'm standing in the Sylvan woods. That I've been here for some time now, I think. So hard to tell when the trees never change. It's mud on my feet, not... less pleasant substances. Have I walked through a river? I grumble, the memory refusing to surface.
It's quiet. I feel that I am alone, though something tells me I'm wrong. A fragment of recollection that says there's someone else here.
With me.
Watching me.
"Do you know," I ask the girl beside me, pink and glittering and not there. "Do you know how fucked up you have to be for even the voices in your head not to believe in you?" I giggle again, the absurdity mind boggling. "Oh well, I guess you'd know all about that." I muse aloud. I killed her, after all, so she'd know better than anyone how decayed I've become.
Decay.
Rot.
Slimy, rotting brain matter coating my hooves and legs and muzzle, the scent of mould and mildew barely touching the stench of long dead flesh, eyes squeezed shut, weeping, no, leaking from their sockets and I'm bashing her head in, my daughter's head in, if I don't she won't stay dead and she'll keep coming back more ruined than before and its all my fault.
I let her die.
Wanted her to die.
And now she's always with me.
That's what I get, I suppose.
A shard of daylight cuts my eyes, and I moan at the suddeness of it. Leaves of amber and gold tangle in my mane and tail, a whimsical touch to my dishelvement. It takes a moment, but I get there eventually. Remember that I'm standing in the Sylvan woods. That I've been here for some time now, I think. So hard to tell when the trees never change. It's mud on my feet, not... less pleasant substances. Have I walked through a river? I grumble, the memory refusing to surface.
It's quiet. I feel that I am alone, though something tells me I'm wrong. A fragment of recollection that says there's someone else here.
With me.
Watching me.