Over the next few weeks Deco noticed that Pumpkin was far more withdrawn than she usually was, the foal blaming himself for making her depressed. While still polite and kind to the foal, Pumpkin had been quieter each and every day since Deco had told the mare that he loved her. Deco had been careful not to repeat that mistake, despite how awful he felt, wondering why he felt so strongly towards the mare, and why she felt so little. Regardless of the tangible drift that had formed between the two, the foal was at least happy that Pumpkin still spoke to him, always politely answering any questions he could think up for the mare.
“…su pum’kin nu am in a sowwy wamp?”
"…nu…pum’kin onwy twapped in sowwy box. nu am widdew singin’ babbeh wike deco…"buh stiww nu hab wots of woom…
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…dat am saddies…deco nu wike hao widdew sowwy wamp am…*huuu…huuu…huuu…an’ poow pum’kin am twapped jus wike deco…”
“…p’wease nu cwy deco…dat gibs pum’kin saddies an’ heawt huwties…pum’kin am otay…an’ deco be otay tu.”
Trembling as he quietly sobbed, his face muffled against the lamp’s floor, Deco struggled to calm himself. The conversation had started out so simple, with the foal simply asking about Pumpkin’s sorry-lamp, only to find that she didn’t have one. But despite all that, the mare had no more freedom than Deco did, with her large size combined with the size of her sorry-box keeping her nearly as confined as the foal was.
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…buh dat nu am faiw! …*huuu…huuu…huuu…pum’kin am gud fwuffy! …an’ su am deco! …*huuu…huuu…huuu…nu desewb dis!”
“…stahp dat wite nao deco!!!”
Startled by the abruptness of Pumpkin’s exasperated scream, Deco yelped before going quiet, his nubs subconsciously covering his face despite the total darkness.
“*chirp…*chirp…scawy…*chirp…*chirp…”
"…pum’kin am sowwy fow yewwing deco…buh dat nu hewp fwuffies…cwying an’ feewing ba’…dis am wewe fwuffies am…nu matah dat fwuffies am gud, nu matah dat fwuffies nebah du ba’ tings…nu am fwuffies fawt…su p’wease nu cwy…aww dat gud fow am maek’n fwuffies feew eben wowse…
His shaking slowing at the mare’s soft, wise words, Deco sniffled as he brushed away the tears from his face. It was hard to speak, with the sudden emotional turmoil combined with Pumpkin sounding so angry earlier having made the foal revert momentarily. Embarrassed as a few peeps and chirps came out before he could finally speak, Deco struggled until he finally managed to find his voice again, albeit barely.
“*chirp…*chirp…o…otay…d…deco sowwy…*chirp…*chirp…”
“…p’wease twy an’ cawm downsies deco…pum’kin nu am mad at deco…”
Struggling to calm himself, Deco found that he was reaching the breaking point. He had long since lost count of how long ago his owner had sealed him in the dark place, and the foal even struggled to remember what it looked like outside, his memories becoming dark and distorted. Every night that Deco slept, he dreamt of his mother, and even the store with the other trapped foals. But each day that passed here warped and twisted the foal’s recollections, his once almost pleasant dreams now feverish and horrifying.
“*chirp…*chirp…d…de…deco…*chirp…*chirp…dec…deco…*chirp…*chirp…babbeh nu wike!!! …*huuu…huuu…huuu…*chirp…*chirp…babbeh wan mummah!!! …*huuu…huuu…huuu…*chirp…*chirp…babbeh wan ow’t!!! babbeh wan ow’t!!! …”
Deco tremored against the floor of his sorry-lamp, peeping and chirping as he cried out against the darkness. Screeching until his throat was sore, the foal was seemingly beyond consolation until he suddenly heard Pumpkin again.
“mummah wuvs babbeh…”
“babbeh wuvs mummah…”
“mummah am hewe…”
“babbeh nu awone…”
Her voice soft and serene, Pumpkin sang as Deco’s screams subdued until the foal curled up against the bulb of his sorry-lamp, cooing as his nubs wrapped around it as he fell asleep. Unsure if he was dreaming or not, Deco smiled as he heard Pumpkin’s muffled voice after the end of her song.
“…pum’kin wuvs yu deco…”
It had been a long time since Deco’s last anxiety attack, the foal having become more accustomed to his lot in life. Dour for a long time, Deco finally felt that, even though his life was far from perfect, it wasn’t all bad. His belly was always full and despite how dark it was, at least he wasn’t cold. And of all the things that Deco was grateful for, there was nothing that compared to Pumpkin.
She’d been sullen and quieter as the days went on, with her withdrawn attitude saddening Deco. Whether it was due to growing more mature or simply understanding the mare far better now, the foal didn’t take it as personally as he once had, simply giving Pumpkin her space. But Deco was excited today, having heard the mare stirring below him, which usually marked a day where she’d be more active. Trying to be patient, Deco fidgeted anxiously, tapping against the padded floor with his hooves. After several minutes, he was rewarded as Pumpkin finally spoke.
"…pum’kin can heaw deco’s hoofsies…am deco wan tawkies wiff pum’kin 'gain?
Trying to contain his excitement, Deco cooed quietly to himself, pleased that the mare had finally spoken. It was difficult to keep track of time and the foal felt as though it had been ages since they’d last conversed.
“…yus p’wease, pum’kin…deco wud wike tawkies…”
“…dat am vewy gud deco…gud babbehs awways sai p’wease an’ tank yu…nao…wat deco wan tawkies bout?”
Recently the pair had been discussing a litany of fluffy teachings, including good manners, which Deco had taken well to. Even though the little foal would never have the life a normal fluffy had, he was still fascinated by knowing what Pumpkin knew, passionate about even the most mundane details of fluffies. Somewhere, deep inside Deco’s mind, the foal could almost picture the wonderous things that Pumpkin spoke of, from fun stacking blocks to a large safe-room for Deco to run around endlessly. Sometimes, when the foal was waiting for the mare, he’d play with the milky food pellets that his sorry-lamp dispensed for him, trading a few hours of hunger to fight off a few hours of boredom, pretending the foodstuffs were toys, just like the ones Pumpkin had told him of.
Today there was something that Deco was curious about, something that the foal had been thinking about for quite awhile.
“…pum’kin…wen deco wus at pwace befow hewe…deww wewe wots an’ wots of odah babbehs wike deco…buh wen dey nu singies wike deco…babbehs git meanie show’tees an’ wowstest huwties…pum’kin…wai hoomins du dat tu babbehs?”
After he’d finished asking the question, Deco wished he could take it back, as Pumpkin was dead silent for a long time, the only sound the foal able to hear was her stifled sobbing.
“nu cwy pum’kin! p’wease nu cwy! deco sowwy! deco nu mean tu maek yu hab saddies…”
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…it…it nu am deco’s fawt…pum’kin…pum’kin nu wike tawkies bout babbehs…gibs pum’kin wowstest heawt huwties…”
Even though Pumpkin had tried to absolve Deco of any blame, the foal’s heart still sank within his chest. He had heard the mare occasionally whimper or even cry, albeit quietly. But he had never heard her so forlorne, nor out loud, the idea that Pumpkin, his source of strength and the foundation that he built himself apon, could become so depressed scaring Deco.
“deco nu wike wen pum’kin hab saddies…hao can deco hewp…wan hewp pum’kin wike pum’kin hewp deco…”
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…deco…deco am such a gud babbeh…jus’ wike jak an’ wan’tuwn…”
“…hu am dey pum’kin?”
Pumpkin was quiet, save for her labored breathing, with only the occasional mewling heard as Deco awaited her answer, wishing he could hold her, even just for a moment, desperate to console the mare. But after what seemed like forever, he finally heard her pained response.
“…w…wus pum’kin’s babbehs, deco…dey gown nao…gown fow a wong time…”
“wa…wat hap’en tu babbehs?”
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…wan’tuwn an’ jak wus wike pum’kin…f…fow scawy nummies day…*huuu…huuu…huuu…buh meanie widdew hoomins taek jak an’ wan’tuwn fwom pum’kin…g…gib awfuw huwties…ba’ huwties…t…tu mani huwties…*huuu…huuu…huuu…den…den pum’kin awone fow foweba…tiww babbeh deco…”
“dat am awfuw pum’kin…wai hoomins gib huwties?”
“…pum’kin nu kno deco…pum’kin jus’ nu kno…”
After the bleak revelation, Pumpkin had gone quiet, with Deco only able to hear her occasionally crying before going silent once yet again. Desperate to hear her again at first, after several days had passed with the mare remaining mute, Deco had forced himself to be patient once again, wanting Pumpkin to be okay and able to talk to him on her own.
It was one day, while the foal was eating one of his milk pellets when he finally heard her again. His heart had jumped for joy, at least at first. But hearing the fearful edge to her voice, the unsure tone behind her words, put Deco ill at ease.
“…deco? can deco heaw pum’kin…”
"yus!!! yus!!! deco can heaw pum’kin!!! "
“…pum…pum’kin hab sumtin’ tu teww deco…”
“am pum’kin otay? pum’kin nu sown’d su gud…”
“…pum’kin…pum’kin wuvs yu deco…”
The world around the foal came to a halt, that moment frozen forever. As the words came to him, it was as though he could feel Pumpkin’s love, the warmth that he craved from the mare, wrapped all around him.
“…deco…deco wuvs yu tu, pum’kin…t…tank yu…tank yu su manies…*huuu…huuu…huuu…dec…deco afwa’d dat…dat pum’kin nu wuv deco…*huuu…huuu…huuu…”
“…nu deco…pum’kin wuv deco ebah since pum’kin fiwst heaw deco…p’wease nu cwy…pum’kin su sowwies fow nu say it soonah…”
Still sniffling, Deco wiped his eyes. Even though everything that Pumpkin was saying was beyond wonderful, she still sounded so somber, with an almost dire tone as she spoke.
“…wai…wai pum’kin nu teww deco befow…”
“…pum’kin…pum’kin wus scawed…pum’kin wuv wan’tuwn an’ jak su manies…mow dan any’ting…an’…an’ wen pum’kin wose babbehs…it wus tu manies…jus’ tu manies fow pum’kin…pum’kin sad fow su wong…den, pum’kin nu feew any’ting nu mowe…jus’ eats nummies an’ wait gu foweba sweepies…buh den pum’kin meets deco an’ wuv babbeh aww obah ‘gain…pum’kin nu wan heawt huwties dat ba’ ebah ‘gain…buh pum’kin wan…pum’kin nee’ deco tu undahstan’…pum’kin wuvs yu deco…deco am gud babbeh…am gud fwuffy…”
“deco wuvs pum’kin tu…buh wai pum’kin hab saddies…dis am wundahfuw! an’ nao deco kno wai pum’kin nu sai nuthin’ befow…it am otay nao…”
“…it nu am otay deco…pum’kin am su sowwies…buh pum’kin nu be heaw soon…”
“d…dat am siwwy pum’kin…wewe wud pum’kin gu? am twapped wike deco…membah?”
“…pum’kin gu foweba sweepies soon deco…in nu su mani bwite times…pum’kin gowna wun ow’t of nummies…”
Deco simply wouldn’t hear it. The very idea that Pumpkin could ever leave him, could ever not be a part of his life was ludacrous.
“dat…dat nu am twu! meanie hoomin gib deco wots of nummies! wud gib wots of nummies tu pum’kin tu!”
“…hoomin did deco…buh wen hoomin nu wookin’, pum’kin spiww nummies 'hind odah boxies…”
“wat?! wai?! wai pum’kin du dat!!!”
“…cuz pum’kin wan die…”
Hysterical, Deco couldn’t believe, wouldn’t believe what he was hearing. Shaking his head as the tears fell freely, the foal started to pound his nubs against the padding of his sorry-lamp’s floor.
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…pum…pum’kin am meanie…meaniest meanie…*huuu…huuu…huuu…nu teww deco dat pum’kin wuvs deco…*huuu…huuu…huuu…an’ den wan weave deco? hatchu pum’kin…*huuu…huuu…huuu…hatchu!!!”
“…pum’kin nu wan weave yu deco…pum’kin spiww nummies befow pum’kin kno deco…an’ aftah pum’kin meet deco…pum’kin wan stay wiff deco…as wong as pum’kin cud…su pum’kin eat nummies wess an’ wess each bwite time…twy an’ maek nummies wast…buh nummies am cwose tu gown nao…pum’kin am su sowwy deco…”
Deco’s mind was in a daze, with all the pieces from before falling into place. Pumpkin had never hated him. She’d always loved him, but knew she’d have to leave him. And all those days where she was too weak to talk…she’d been starving herself…just for him.
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…nu faiw!!! nu am faiw pum’kin!!! deco wuvs pum’kin!!! nu wan wose mum…pum’kin”
“…it am otay nao deco…deco am pum’kin’s babbeh…an’ pum’kin am deco’s mummah foweba…”
David had been enjoying the peace that his day off from the plant brought him, sitting on the back porch and kicking back with a cold one. It felt wonderful outside, with the brisk autumn breeze bringing with it a subtle reminder that August would be over soon, with the holidays not far behind. Popping off the cap of his second beer, David had almost halved it’s contents before hearing his wife’s voice from inside, asking him if he knew where her spare colander was. Sighing to himself, David quickly gulped down the remaining brew, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be having a third.
After searching the entire house up and down, David had finally made his way to the garage, flicking on the light as the labyrinth of boxes were laid out before him. Moving and restacking containers for nearly an hour, David’s attention was diverted by a muffled noise. Rifling through until he found the boxes labeled decorations, he pulled aside the Christmas box, hearing what sounded like quiet sobbing. Moving the pile aside, David was dumbstruck when a large portion of old kibble suddenly fell to the floor, the food having been stuck between the boxes for who knows how long. His alcohol addled mind suddenly realizing what had happened, he tore open the nearby Halloween box, only to find his last remaining October themed fluffy dead, her belly bloated from starvation. Despite what an awful death it had to have been, David could swear there was an almost peaceful, serene look on her face.
Putting the box down for the moment, David pulled out his knife, tearing into the other container, the one with the muffled sounds within. Once the tape had been breached and the folds lifted, he nearly jumped backwards from the sudden screams.
“*screeeeeee!!! hewp pum’kin!!! hewp pum’kin p’wease!!! nee’ nummies!!!”
Hefting the lamp upward, the foal continued to scream as he frantically rapped against the glass. Shaking it slightly, David then firmly struck against the glass. “Hey you! Can you still sing? Sing if you can…” Despite all his prompting, the foal continued to screech and scream, unable to calm down. “Well that’s just great…One dead and the other busted…” Dropping the lamp with little care, David then hefted the box with the mare’s cadaver and the lamp to the curbside, swearing that he’d never buy another holiday fluffy.
Once the lamp had shattered, Deco had blacked out, the sudden fall and spray of glass being far too much for the foal to withstand. If not for the slight padding of the lamp’s bottom, the impact would have likely killed him in an instant. Coming to, it was dark, and cold, the air filled with a foul and sour smell. Chirping lightly as he felt shards of glass shift and move as he tried to stand, Deco’s eyes began to focus, realizing that he was out of his lamp. Nearby he could see Pumpkin’s body, the foal struggling as he dragged his shattered body to hers before wrapping his nubs gently around her and slowly drifting away.
And that concludes My Friend in the Dark Place. Once again I give thanks for inspiration and permission given by SouthernKilling. Hope you enjoy. 
