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“There were other little variances. Dolls hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the hallway. A stuffed rabbit tucked into a hospital bed… no, not tucked. Strapped. Two dozen bed sheets stretched across the hallway, decorated with maroon houses and stick figures. And more detailed paintings of ponies. And… fire. And ponies fighting. Ponies dismembered.

Something moved beyond the sheets, but when I yanked them aside I saw only empty hall.

“What the hay is going on here?” I muttered softly. I suddenly found myself longing for Pony Joe’s. “Give me bodies… or something shooting at me… or something. Not freaky pictures and words written in dark paint.” I glanced back and saw both of them staring at me. “What?”

“She doesn’t know?” Glory whimpered to P-21.

“Apparently not,” P-21 said as he looked behind us.

“Know what?”

Glory swallowed. “That isn’t paint, Blackjack.” She pointed at the black-red letters on the wall.

I closed my eyes. Oh I really really wish she hadn’t said that. “Right. Of course it isn’t.” I looked down yet another empty hall and shouted, “Okay! You’re officially sick fuckers! Now come out so I can shoot you!”

Then we heard a soft ‘thump, thump, thump, thump’ in the hallway ahead of us. A bright red ball bounced down the dimly lit hall towards the three of us. No… not a ball. It was too irregular for that. It rolled to a stop at my feet, leaving bright wet splotches on the floor. The face on the severed head was a mask of terror.

A foal giggled in the darkness.

“Cute,” I muttered. This head was fresh.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” P-21 repeated over and over again as he stared down at it.

“Calm down,” I muttered, trying my best not to freak out. “It’s just a head.””

TUMBLR:

lrusujpg.tumblr.com/post/17825…

Description
“There were other little variances. Dolls hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the hallway. A stuffed rabbit tucked into a hospital bed… no, not tucked. Strapped. Two dozen bed sheets stretched across the hallway, decorated with maroon houses and stick figures. And more detailed paintings of ponies. And… fire. And ponies fighting. Ponies dismembered.

Something moved beyond the sheets, but when I yanked them aside I saw only empty hall.

“What the hay is going on here?” I muttered softly. I suddenly found myself longing for Pony Joe’s. “Give me bodies… or something shooting at me… or something. Not freaky pictures and words written in dark paint.” I glanced back and saw both of them staring at me. “What?”

“She doesn’t know?” Glory whimpered to P-21.

“Apparently not,” P-21 said as he looked behind us.

“Know what?”

Glory swallowed. “That isn’t paint, Blackjack.” She pointed at the black-red letters on the wall.

I closed my eyes. Oh I really really wish she hadn’t said that. “Right. Of course it isn’t.” I looked down yet another empty hall and shouted, “Okay! You’re officially sick fuckers! Now come out so I can shoot you!”

Then we heard a soft ‘thump, thump, thump, thump’ in the hallway ahead of us. A bright red ball bounced down the dimly lit hall towards the three of us. No… not a ball. It was too irregular for that. It rolled to a stop at my feet, leaving bright wet splotches on the floor. The face on the severed head was a mask of terror.

A foal giggled in the darkness.

“Cute,” I muttered. This head was fresh.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” P-21 repeated over and over again as he stared down at it.

“Calm down,” I muttered, trying my best not to freak out. “It’s just a head.””

TUMBLR:

lrusujpg.tumblr.com/post/17825…