Merry Christmas, you filthy animal
The stall door swung open, and Slaybell braced herself for an attack, but she froze, unable to move, even the snarl on her face was stuck there. Her eyes widened as the little elf came forward, some leather contraption in his hand. Her skill crawled as his hands moved over her face, her neck, shoulders, and legs. It was a violation, and she strained against the power that held her in place. The veins along her temples bulged up from her efforts, though is was all for not. Slaybell was unable to move, just follow the imp around with her eyes. Those eyes burned a thousand deaths into the chin high man, spoke the terror she wanted to inflict upon him. He made no sign of noticing her attempt to slice his throat through her gaze. No, he said nothing, just caressed, touched and then brought the halter to her face. Oh, how the emerald green mare wished she could latch onto its little arm as the leather pieces formed around her head.
When the final strap clasped into place she was released from her statuesque form and she stumbled a step forward as she had still been fighting to move. Slaybell pulled herself upright, each muscle pulled and pushed to right her stature. Until she held her head high. He haunches bunched and she threw her frame into a rear. Emerald legs were meant to lash out at Grumble but when she went to it was as if a rope pulled her forcefully back down. Confusion flashed across her face. He red tail flicked with agitation, as she tried again and again to harm the little man, each one proved useless. No matter what she tried she was unable to touch Grumble.”You will let your guard down at some point, little man, and I can’t wait to fillet you when that time comes.” Her voice was surprising melodic, feminine and light. She said it with joy, not hate, and as if she were offering the sweetest of compliments. Slaybell was not typical, but that should have been obvious by that point.
If Grumble thought anything of her display he said nothing, nor gave any indication through his body language. Save for the smallest hint of a smile, that twitched at the corner of his face. The halter continued to work its magic, as the next thing that happened was the most peculiar. Slay couldn’t recall why she wanted to attack Grumble, the aggression seeped from her body as if the halter leeched it all away. Her eyes became soft, kind even. They lost their hardened edge and when Grumble went to leave the stall she followed in total compliance. Her mind knew it wasn’t right, that she should fight, resist, flee, but she was unable. Her legs moved forward, with a calm that beseeched her mind. The impish man led her down an isle of box stalls, where the inhabitants were in a vast array of states. Some were muttering nonsense to themselves, others stood stark still their eyes empty, there were even a few she passed that thrashed about their stalls- eyes wild and disheveled. Slaybell knew she should not go a step further, but again her body ignored her mind. It was a terrible thing.
The fairy led her further and further along until they came to a room at the end of the aisleway. The room was filled with things. Knives, needles, buckets of water, batteries, cages, straps and chains, etc. covered the walls and tables around the room. There was a cleared area at the center and grumble led her to it and secured her there with chains around her fetlocks. The halter still kept she from harming Grumble but the placid mind control seemed to have lifted as she tested her body for appropriate response. Sure enough, it responded as she expected it to. She watched grumble walk by a table his fingers glided athwart the metal and wood of the different tools before selecting a sharp 5-inch blade. The handle was an ornate wood carving, and the blade sat gleaming on the other end, a slight curve brought the steel to its tapered end. Silently Grumble brought the knife to her skin, lightly moved it across her neck in an aimless fashion.
Slaybell stilled, she had never seen a blade, she didn’t know it’s purpose. She was nervous, but who wouldn’t be in a situation like that? Her voice fell again surely the fairy could speak, ”And what it that little trinket meant to do--” Grumble answered her question with a quick jerk of his hand. The blade was sharp and the added speed was all it need to slice into her flesh. Slaybell sucked in a breath, and slowly exhaled as the sting of the cut radiated out. The sensation quickly dulled and she exhaled like normal. ”It that it? That isn’t bad..it’s almost pleasant.” Grumble stayed silent, just continued the slow light traversing of the blade against her hair. Three more times he cut her, in quick succession along her haunches. The emerald mare’s nostrils flared at the quick inhale from the pain, but then a second later she exhaled with a smile. It wasn't forced, but genuine, she actually enjoyed the feeling. (Look, no one said she was normal here….She is a psychopath after all) Grumble raised an eyebrow at the response and returned to the table, a cloth wiped the blood from the blade before he returned it to its spot.
Next, the impish fairy went over to a kiln with several long rods sticking out of the opening. He pulled one out, with a gloved hand. The far end gleamed a hot orange white. The type of heat you could smell it was so hot. Grumble moved over to her opposite shoulder from the where he placed the cuts. This time, there was no toying with her to test how easily she was scared. He simply pressed the poker onto her side. The smell of burnt hair came first, then the scream of pain from Slaybell’s lips, finally the scent of burnt flesh. The poker was held against her skin for a few second then removed. Her eyes dilated from the pain. The burn didn’t dissipate quickly after like the cuts, it seeped deeper into her muscles, throbbed and ached. She was not pleased and a hiss escaped her lips as she attempted to mentally get ahead of the heated ache. ”It nothing really. You can’t do anything to --” Grumble chose that moment to take the poker back to her shoulder, which forced another yelp to interrupt her sentiment. Again and again, he edged her toward the brink of her sanity. The pain of the burns built up quickly, pain--ache--pain--ache--pain--ache over and over, after the 10th time Slaybell finally stopped reacting. She no longer screamed, her eyes were not glazed over-- as it would be if she had broken, but hardened, determined. Grumble again raised his eyebrows at the odd reaction.
The fairy went to a different section of the table, it had needles, syringes, and vials lined up in neat rows. Grumble picked a large gauge needle and secured it to a syringe, and then picked up a vial that held a clear liquid within it. Methodically he pushed the needle into the vial and pulled the colorless substance from its container into the syringe. He returned the vial to its place and checked the syringe for air bubbles. Only then did he return to Slaybell and insert the needle into the mare’s muscular neck. Again he said nothing, and this time, the evil Christmas horse didn’t bother trying to get a reaction. Grumble must have thought well of that as that imp’s mouth jerked into that almost smile again. He turned and took a seat at the table, and waited. They both waited, for the serum to kick in.
Slaybell blinked as the serum made her vision blur. Everything was distorted, and soon enough the chamber swirled and dissolved. In its place was her cave at the top of her mountain. She relaxed, as she believed the whole thing with Grumble to be a dream, ”What an odd dream…” she moved out of the cave to look down on Valley, it was flooded with blood. She smiled down at the sight but it faded quickly. Something wasn’t right, down below there was a stallion drowning in the blood. A cry escaped her lips, guttural and heart wrenching, ”No No NO!!” Her emerald pelted body launched down the mountain, and through the chest deep blood until she reached the stallion. Though while somewhere deep in her mind she knew that she didn’t know the beast, but it was pushed back by the drugs and the rest of her mind that thought she needed the stallion, that he mattered to her. He glared at her, ”I trusted you, how could you do this do me?” Then she saw the marks on his neck as the life left his eyes. She had killed him. She had taken the life of someone she cared for. Her worst fear, her obsession with blood and killing would end up costing those she cared about. The blood continued to rise but she fled away from the body, the stallion’s words echoed in her her mind as she ran.
The situation repeated itself continuously, with different horses that the serum tricked her mind into believing she cared about and needed. Each time, she had killed them. Each time it had been her fault, her obsession that had caused their deaths. Each time she screamed and cried, tried to stop it but she couldn’t. She ran from each but ran right into another, until she could even run the vision of loved ones, dying over and over and over. In her mind’s eye she curled up on the ground. The blood lapped at sides, beckoning her to engross herself with its beauty. She screamed and cried out for it to stop to leave her be. But t never listened to her. It just continued to pull at her attention. When that didn’t work more death flashed before her. The emerald mare’s voice shook from sobs, and pleading for the blood to leave her be, ”Enough, stop just stop. Leave me alone! Oh please stop!” THe images didn’t cease though, nothing seemed to stop the endless onslaught of death. The blood rose higher and higher until it was about to take her under. She screamed out the most soul-crushing sound yet, but the blood overtook her muzzle, which left her dead, as there was no one left to save her. She had killed them all.
❄ Slaybell ❄
The Christmas Bitch