This story is very different.
Set in a world anew.
A realm of lonely wild lands.
Home to a scholar named Blue.
His true name was not important.
Nor how he lost the secret war.
He who stole the Pastry Witch’s beloved.
He who served as the Resistance’s core.
His tormentor was the Black Pâtissière.
The Pastry Witch who sought to make to suffer.
Turned him into a four legged creature.
One made of jam, dough and butter.
But the greatest loss was not his form.
Rather the changes to his mind.
Once a scholar who knew all secrets.
Now no smarter than infant kind.
Trapped in a cottage that served as his prison.
Let us have brief look into the life of Blue.
Sat atop a kitchen counter with his eyes to the sky.
His story to start without further ado.
Blue sat atop a kitchen counter, staring at the cloudy sky from behind a window. He was trying to think of the word to describe his feeling. It was a sort of pain, or hurties as he called it, but it was not to the body. He tried to think where exactly the hurties came from. Not inside the tummeh nor in that place for breathing. It was in his heart. A hurting in the heart, and not just a hurting in the heart. It was one of the worst he ever felt. That’s right! The worst hurting of the heart!
“Worstest heawt hurties!” Blue suddenly cried.
It was the only thing he could think to do. Share with the world his pain, in the hope that it somehow make the hurting all go away. Yet it did nothing. He was still feeling the pain. Blue sat on his butt and stared at his limbs, specifically limbs that had replaced his hands and arms, a pair of short stubby legs made of baked dough. It was a reflection of his new form. A small four legged creature resembling that of a pony, yet made entirely of pastry. Baked, buttered dough for a body, puff pastry for skin and sweet raspberry jam for blood. A cursed existence.
He once was a scholar who knew almost everything there was to know. One of the greatest minds amongst all the universe. A schemer who manipulated schemers. A wizard who tricked many into believing that he was a God. He thought himself a king in a game of 5D chess and try to orchestrate a grand war in a bid for power and revenge. Yet in the end, he was nothing more than a pawn in a larger scheme and in his defeat he would end up served to Black Pâtissière, the Pastry Witch, for her own revenge, but those were names and stories that did not belong here. This was a simple tale about the pathetic pastry pony named Blue.
“My namesie am… am… am Bwue! Nu! Nut Bwue… iz… iz…. Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
He could not remember his name. It was just one of the many things that the Pastry Witch took from him. Punishment for his own crime of stealing the affections of the Pastry Witch’s beloved. For such a crime he lost his name, he lost his form, he lost his cunning, his wisdom, his maturity yet the worse of all was his intelligence.
“Bwian?.. Nu… Bwyant?.. Nu…”
The word eluded him. His place for thinking. What was it called? It angered him so much that he could not even remember such a simple word. It angered him so very much.
“Nu faiw! Nu faiw! Nu faiw!” He screamed as he stomped around.
His soft bread hooves hit the marble counter, making not even a sound. It made Blue all the more angry. He began stomping around even harder, jumping around as he tried to break the kitchen counter, yet nothing. He looked around and saw a cloth napkin laying by a sink. He began pulling on the napkin trying to rip it apart, even the slightest tear, yet nothing. All that effort and nothing. Instead he felt a pain in his hooves and a pain in his heart. He used to be able to change worlds with just his words, now he couldn’t even make a rip a cloth napkin.
“Worstest heawt hurties!” He cried again.
Blue laid down on the counter and tried to cry, but no tears came out and all he could do was make hu hu noises in an attempt to feel better. His anger had once again dissipated replaced only this numbing sadness and once again he looked back to the sky.
“Sabe… Bwue. Sabe Bwue… Pwease… Pwease…”
He had forgot her name. His elder sister. She was his most loyal ally and the strongest fighter he had on his side. Yet he could not even remember her name.
“Pwease… Oldah sistah… Pwease sabe Bwue.”
He laid his head on the kitchen counter, as he attempted to once again cry. Yet nothing. He could only make those hu hu hu noise and close his eyes. He felt tired. Another curse of his pastry form. It had the stamina of an infant, and though he had only made a short tantrum, it had just felt like a marathon and Blue needed to rest. He closed his eyes and relaxed, and soon he drifted off to sleep.
“Staph it” he murmured to himself in his sleep.
He awoke to sharp ripping pain. The feeling that something was tearing into his sweet baked dough flesh. Not just from one spot, but from many spots all across hid body. He stood up and looked around in horror, trying to find who was hurting him, but there was no one nearby. He continued to look around, feeling confused, until he noticed them. Small black creatures that stood out from his light golden skin. Ants. Dozens of them feasting on his pastry flesh.
“Nu!” He screamed “Gu way! Gu way!”
He tried to hit them with his legs, but they were too short and stubby to reach and for the ones he could reach, he lacked the strength to properly bat them away. He shook about frantically, hoping that they would fall, yet the ants remained firms, biting away as his pastry flesh. He screamed and ran about, as they continued to bite his side.
“Pwease mistah Ants!” He pleaded “Pwease stop gibbing Bwue hurties!”
He stopped as he realized what he had said. Did he seriously plead for the ants to stop? How could he think to say something so foolishly stupid, as though he truly believe that asking ants to stop, would actually work. Yet he had done so by instinct. He stopped moving and stared at the sky. He ignored the pain and stared at the clouds in horror at the realization that this new form of his was changing him at a subconscious level. Rewriting even his common sense, but this realization was cut short as the pain was getting too much to ignore.
“Staph it!” He screamed “Gu way! Gu way!”
He tried to shake about and continued to shake around, batting any of the ants he could reach. Yet they did nothing and it tore him apart that he could not even stop the most measly of ants.
“Hewp!” He cried “Hewp Bwue! Meanie buggies gib worstest hurties! Hewp!”
There was no response. No one had come to save him and as he stared at the ants, he had noticed that some had managed to tear out some of the baked dough and noticed some of his strawberry filling leaking from the holes. That made him panic all the more.
“Nu! Nu! Nu!” He screamed “Nut boo boo juice! Mistah ants pwease staph! Nu mow!”
The ants showed no mercy as they continued tearing into his flesh. Some had left with pieces of pastry but more ants began to approach and horrified, Blue tried to run away. He wasn’t looking where he was going and before he knew it, he had run off the kitchen counter and began falling.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
He landed on the tiled floor badly. His legs had torn from his body and his strawberry had leaked out. The pain was just as bad. The feeling of his legs ripped from his body. He squirmed and shocked, as the pain spread across his body and all he could do was scream.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
Suddenly he heard the snapping of fingers and all the pain just disappeared. Like magic. Magic? He realized what was going on. She had returned. The Pastry Witch. He looked around in horror and saw her staring at him from the side. Her look of annoyance. She picked him up and brushed the ants from his side. Her face was one of disgust and Blue should have felt a seething rage, yet all he felt was this of warmth, safety and comfort.
“Tank yu Mummah!” He cried.
His mind was screaming. Did he actually just her his mother? The wretched witch who cursed him into this pathetic form. It was entirely unbelievable and yet he had just done that and as he stared at her, he could not remember her true name, only mummah.
“Pwease mummah!” he pleaded “Gib Bwue huggies n wuv!”
The words that had come out of his mouth were not his own. Yet another curse of his new form, an overwhelming desire for affection, even from his mortal enemy, and it replaced any resentment he felt towards the witch. Instead Blue found himself for more desperate, as she had yet to answer his please
“Pwease mummah! Bwue hab worstest hurties fwom meanie buggies n wost weggies. Pwease mummah Bwue nee huggies n wuv!”
He felt a searing shame from pleading so pathetically, yet the shame was quickly overwritten by the overwhelming desire for compassion. He would have tried to have touch her if he still had his legs, but could only shake and squirm. However, he stopped when he noticed her face. The way she was looking at him. A look of disgust. One that made him feel ashamed.
“Mummah?” He asked timidly.
She suddenly tore a piece of his side and ate it. He didn’t feel any pain from that, but he felt worried.
“Nu mummah” He said with concern “Dun eat Bwue , hab so wittle weft”
He watched as she ate his flesh. She ate it slowly and it was clear that she was thinking about it. She suddenly spat it into the sink.
“Tainted” She uttered “Completely ruined”
Blue looked down in shame. He felt numb and worthless from her actions and her comment.
“Bwue sowwi” he muttered softly.
His ego was seething in rage. Such disrespect yet to think he would actually apologize to her. He would have screamed at her, but instead found himself overwhelmed with this intense feeling of uselessness. A tainted pastry. What good was he as a tainted pastry.
“Bwue sowwi!” He screamed.
“Shut up” she suddenly said.
She looked at him with contempt and Blue could only whimper. Her cruel gaze felt so frightening. He who once faced God-like creatures and gargantuous titans, now brought to the tremble of a mere stare. He found himself frozen with fear, only able to shake slightly as a shiver ran done his spine. If he had bowels he would have unloaded them all on the spot. He looked back at her for what felt like forever, and then suddenly he felt himself falling.
“Y Bwue fawwwwwing!”
He landed on something soft. He could not see what, because he had landed on his back, but as he looked around he noticed various things. He could see the sky clearly, he was in some kind of wooden box and he was surrounded by food waste. The realization of where he was suddenly hit him.
“Bwue am nut twashies!” he screamed in a mix of horror and outrage.
He could see her looking down at him. She had that same look of disgust. Then she snapped her fingers and it all came back.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
The pain had returned. The immense searing pain of having all his limbs ripped off at once and his pasty flesh being ripped off by both the Pastry Witch and the ants. It hit all at once and Blue felt himself getting light headed before everything went black.
A grand library with book shelves as tall as towers. A majestic oak wooden desk filled with journals and notes. A young scholar sat on a lavish chair pondering about the very nature of everything. A figure in a red hooded cloak sat on his lap with a gorgeous smile, and to the side was a tall, muscular woman sat next to a table, cleaning her shield and war hammer.
Blue awoke to the sight of the starry night sky. He looked around in confusion, thinking what that was. Why was he there for a bit and now why was he back here? He looked around. He was still in the place for trash and all his legs were still gone. So what was that? Was that him? It took him a while to figure out what was going on. The word eluded him, but he knew what it was. One of those pictures that appeared in his thinky place during sleepy time. It was a while since had once of those.
He thought about it the sleepy time picture and realized he could barely remember it now, but he could still remember those two. The lady. She was his older sister, but who was the one in red? He could vaguely remember the smile. It was the smile of the Pastry Witch’s beloved, but who he to Blue? He was a friend, but not just a friend, they were close. What they had was a special. Yes! A special friend. Blue’s face lit up as he remembered the one in red.
“Specaw Fwen! Wewwe am specaw fwen?” He asked aloud.
His question was met with no response and in a bid for answers. He tried to move about, but his body was still limbless, so all he could really do was shake from side to side. It did nothing to help, and he remained stuck on his back only able to stare at the night sky.
“Sabe Bwue!” He pleaded once again “Specaw Fwen! Oldah sistah!”
What were their names? Where were they now? Why were they not coming here to rescue him? Blue cried out to both of them desperately. He cried out until his voice grew hoarse, then he stopped and tried to cry. No one could hear him. No one was here. No one would rescue him. He stared out at the night sky and made hu-ing noises in an attempt to alleviate his sadness.
“Y nu wan sabe Bwue?” he asked softly.
A memory came back. One of his older sister. She was standing there and looking tired. It was just the two of them, and then she was gone. She was gone and Blue knew she would not come back.
“Si… Sistah… Bwue… Bwue sowwi fo… Fo…” he said softly.
The memory was fleeting. Yet he knew that she had gone to sleep forever, and though he did not know what he had done, he knew that it was all his fault. Another memory came back. It was of his special friend, but his special friend did not have that lovely smile. No it was a frown filled with anger and disgust. He knew it was because of something he did.
“Specaw fwen! Bwue sowwi! Bwue nu meanie tu twick yu!”
There was no response. No one to hear his remorseful cries. He stopped talking and stared at the sky, because he knew deep down that this was what he deserve. He stared silently at the sky and watched night turn to day and day turn to night, over and over again. He felt his body rotting. It was a burning pain yet it was nothing compared to the empty numbness that filled his soul. He no longer wished for help for there was nothing left him out there.
“Wan die” he muttered.
TING!
He awoke in a daze and looked around. A large box lit up by a faint orange light. This feeling of being very hot yet feeling no pain. A single square glass with a view of the kitchen outside. He was an in an oven, and a single thought went through his mind: 18 to 20 minutes at 205°C, leave outside for 5 to 10 minutes for cooling. Filling to be applied afterwards. Current death 16,424. Cause of death: Rotting. 5,982nd time to die of a similar nature. 4,067th time to die inside the compost bin. Meaning that rot deaths occurred in the bin 68%. 2,923rd time being assaulted by ants. Black garden ants. Scientific name: Lasius Niger. Species remains unchanged. 9,944th time falling off the kitchen counter. 11,781st time showing extreme remorse towards older sister and Little Red.
It had become a ritual at this point. A brief summary of his last moments as a way to remind him of his old intelligence and memory, before he would lose them. Once the oven door opened he would begin to rapidly lose it all. In under a few seconds he would become that bumbling brainless pathetic pastry pony again, one who would have no memories of their past lives and ready to repeat this cycle of pointless struggling. Not that he could do anything about it. While in this baking form, he could not walk and he could not talk. He could only look and think, so instead of breaking down in despair, he might as well think of statistics and analyze any possible patterns to exploit, but there were none currently.
He looked outside, and could see her staring: Black Pâtissière, she was always such a perfectionist and he was her art. Part revenge. Part obsession. An endless torture. He watched as she opened the oven door and looked down. He could already feel it disappearing. What was it called. The word to describe how smarty your thinky place was? It didn’t matter. He could only look down in hopelessness and a single thought crossed his mind: This was Hell.
Hi people. MEY here. Short story I wanted to make for Halloween, but I don’t know if it is scary. Part of me feels like one could classify this as psychological horror, but part of me feels like this ain’t it. Anyways you get this weird story, and I could only hope you enjoyed it.