Cheerilee's Garden(车厘子的花园）Part.1

本文转自Fim Fiction,原作者系 Unahim。创此专栏供纯英爱好者阅读原文。
以下部分为原文
Some words in advance
It all began as a joke in a chatroom. Someone said “We should totally write this!” and so I did. I realise that’s not much of an excuse for letting this loose on the world, but perhaps it’ll make you judge me a bit more kindly when you get to the end of the story, look back and wonder who would ever think of something like this.
At least I hope it will.
Thanks to Cheerilee and Dash for joking around and inspiring this fanfic with your ideas. Thank you as well for all the advice, ideas and proofreading you continued to provide as time went on.

Thank you ‘Tavy, Quilava and Aurebesh, for all the proofreading you did.
And thanks also to every member of the MLP Team Central steam group who randomly heard me talk about this and provided input. You all helped in your own way.
Cheerilee’s Garden
An extremely grimdark (read: gory) story by Unahim.
The entire theatre complex was abuzz with the voices of a hundred excited ponies, as Cheerilee peeked out carefully from behind the curtains hiding the stage. She saw rows upon rows of ponies sitting in the stands or moving between them, talking to each other as they waited or tried to make one last trip to get some food and beverages before the show. She glanced quickly to the left, and saw that the musicians had already set up in the orchestra pits in front of the stage. They’d only be needed for a few scenes, but Cheerilee was still glad to have them.

Seeing such a big crowd gathered there made her a bit nervous, even though this had all been her idea. Almost all of the seats were taken, and Cheerilee knew there were barely enough to accommodate the entire population of Ponyville. The show would be subjected to the scrutiny of a great many pony eyes indeed.
She retreated back behind the curtains, hoping nobody had seen her. She felt that would have been somewhat unprofessional. Everything seemed to be in order as she inspected the stage for the last time. All the props and the equipment were beautifully made, straight from the hooves of the masters. Cheerilee had only needed to tell them what she wanted, and they had provided it without any questions, even though certain items must have seemed unnecessary. After all, they didn’t know what she had in mind for this night, while she did. She was quite sure some of their props would make even a professional theatre jealous!

The stage was divided into sections, each denoting its supposed location. This way, they didn’t need time or backstage ponies to change the decor after each act, cutting down on the time needed for scene changes. Cheerilee was a big fan of this system as it meant there was one less thing for her to worry about.
She turned back and headed for stage left where her students were busy getting all dressed up. It was a total chaos, with bits and pieces of costumes scattered across the room like sprinkles on a cupcake. At the centre of this mess were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, as Cheerilee had come to expect. The fact none of them had sprouted a “making trouble”-Cutie Mark yet surprised her more each and every day.

“Hey, that’s my helmet,” Scootaloo told Sweetie Belle accusingly. “Yours is way over there!”
“No, it sure isn’t!” she replied as she lifted the knightly helmet off of her head and held it out for Scootaloo to inspect. “This one has a hole for my horn, see?”
“Are ya’ll sure it ain’t mah helmet?” Apple Bloom said as she scratched her head.
“The king wears a crown!” the other two snapped back.
Cheerilee sighed as she quickly glanced at her other students. Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara seemed to progress orderly, if slowly, mainly due to how they constantly flourished and admired each other after every article of clothing they put on, and after every single brush of their mane. Snips was, to her great surprise, ready and waiting. The fact that Snails was backstage on tech duty might have had something to do with that, she mused.

She remained confident they’d make it in time, as she had had the great foresight to start them all on preparations much earlier than anypony would have thought necessary. She had come to know this little group throughout the months, and she was prepared for almost anything. Nothing could possibly go wrong today; she had put too much planning and work into it to see it fail now. She smiled as she envisioned the peace, quiet, tranquillity and relief she’d feel when this was all over.
“All right students,” she chimed, “let me just run you through the steps one last time.”

There was much groaning to be heard across the room, but Cheerilee wasn’t taking any chances with this bunch.
“If you still have a part to play, but aren’t needed on set, come back here. If your role is all played out, exit the stage on the other side. You’ll be able to watch the rest of the play from there. That is, if you didn’t see it enough already,” she paused for a moment to ascertain everypony was still listening, and they all nodded.
“If you forget your lines, just improvise or pick up from the point in the script you do recall. If the pony you’re playing with skips some of your lines, don’t try to correct them. Remember, we may notice if somepony doesn’t follow the script, but the audience won’t as long as you keep the dialogue flowing.”

The fillies and Snips nodded again, and Cheerilee smiled at them.
“Good, now get ready. I have to see to the opening of the show, so be ready and on set in no more than ten minutes.”
She walked away as the young ponies got back to it, and Cheerilee thought they seemed to quarrel and delay slightly less this time, though that was probably just her imagination.
The last one she had to check up on was Snails, whom she put backstage due to his absolute inability to do even the most basic of acting; all he’d have to do there was listen for certain cues and then carry out one specific action. She had even written all of that down on a list that was easy enough to follow--even for him. Up to this point he’d done okay during their practices, but you never knew.

She gave him a few reminders, and he reassured her that he wouldn’t let her down--all the while wearing that idiot grin of his. Cheerilee sighed as she went back to the main stage, resigned to the fact that she’d have to leave this one up to fate.
She was pleased to see the other ponies already gathered and in position when she got there, all of them sitting around a U-shaped table, the open end of which was pointed into the direction of the crowd. Apple Bloom was dressed up as someone of royal descent: a shining crown on her head and a regal mantle flowing down from her shoulders. To her right were the remaining two Cutie Mark Crusaders, both dressed in exaggerated versions of knightly armour. Sweetie Belle’s was coloured as white as her own coat, while Scootaloo’s was a bright red. Considering this glaring difference in colour, Cheerilee wondered how they could possibly mistake each other’s helmet for their own, anyway.

They looked heroic and chivalrous compared to the two ponies on the other side of the table--which was exactly the idea. Silver Spoon’s costume was pitch black, while Diamond Tiara’s was a deep purple. The style of their costumes was likewise different from the two knights; they both wore something more akin to a courtier’s dress or a diplomat's gown than a warrior's armour. Mean looks were being exchanged all over the table, and Cheerilee couldn’t decide if they were genuinely trying to get into character, or if the natural animosity of the CMC towards the other two fillies was at work here. The only acting pony who wasn’t on set yet was Snips, but then again he wasn’t even in the next scene.

Cheerilee walked over to the left side of the stage and held the curtain aside for herself. The leader of the orchestra immediately spotted her as she emerged next to him, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. She nodded at him and he nodded back, turning his attention towards the musicians--most of whom were friends or family of the actors. Cheerilee slipped back behind the curtains, as she heard the first soft notes float through the air. By the time she was back in the centre of the stage the music had increased in volume and could be heard all throughout the theatre, the conversations slowly dying down as everypony took to their seats.

Cheerilee looked up to see Snails--thankfully in the right spot between the stage lights--waving at her sheepishly. The ushers took their cue from the music, and slowly the lights in the theatre hall died down. The pace of the music increased and the feeling of anticipation intensified, until, suddenly, the curtains slid open a few feet, accompanied by the rolling of drums. She stepped forward past the curtains, as Snails turned on a spotlight and aimed it at her, bathing her in a circle of light as she moved. Despite the curtains being partially open the darkness behind Cheerilee revealed nothing to the audience. The music stopped and Cheerilee’s voice took over, ringing out crystal clear throughout the enormous room due to the perfect acoustics.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, it is with great pride that my students and I welcome you to our very own play. They have all worked so hard on this over the past few months, and we hope you will enjoy it as much as we enjoy bringing it to you. Of one thing I am certain: this will be an evening you won’t soon forget,” Cheerilee smiled widely despite herself. It was just the kind of opening she thought everypony would expect, but she was certain that last part would turn out to be true in more ways than one.

“And now without further ado I am proud to introduce, performed in Ponyville for the first time ever: Reginald the Sly!”
The music exploded again during her last words as she disappeared behind the curtains, following them to the right side of the stage as they slid open behind her. The music died down once again as the spotlight was turned off and the main stage lights turned on, slowly illuminating the scene.
Cheerilee could hear the play starting while she went down a set of stairs to get underneath the stage. The size of the stage itself was impressive, but the area underneath it was simply amazing. There was plenty of room to install all sorts of devices to spruce up any kind of play, and the stage itself was thick and well-isolated enough that ponies could work down here without disturbing the actors on stage. She had once started banging a metal pipe against some of the iron stage supports during a rehearsal, just to see if her students would hear it. They hadn’t.

She made her way in-between the beams supporting the stage and the various props and gadgets that reached down from the stage, heading for the prompt corner. She finally arrived at a few wooden steps, which took her to a level half-way between the stage and the area underneath it, so that only her head peeked up above stage-level. From there she could watch the play from the same side as the audience, without actually being seen by the audience due to the way the prompt corner was built into the stage: from the audience’s point of view it just looked like a slightly raised box.

During some plays a “prompt” would sit here to feed actors their lines if they forgot them, but the dialogue in this one wasn’t overly complicated, and they had never rehearsed with the possibility of a prompt in mind. Cheerilee didn’t think any of them would even realise she was there.
She tried to pick up the thread of the play, since she had obviously missed some of it on her way there. They seemed slightly further along than Cheerilee had expected, but she didn’t know if this was because of them rushing or leaving something out, or if she had just been walking slower than she thought she had been.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. This scene wasn’t important to her. A grin spread across her face as she sat and watched, and waited for a scene that was.
***
Apple Bloom slammed her hoof on the table as she dramatically looked first to the left of the table, then to the right. “All of this is meaningless. We still have to put a stop to this Reginald the Sly, and ah don’t care who does it, or how,” she said, trying her best to suppress her accent. She was most likely the one with the biggest grasp of the script, simply because sticking to her lines made avoiding her accent easier. As soon as she drifted from them even a bit it was all over, and the accent was back and in full swing. It sounded very odd out of the mouth of a king, to be sure.

“But my king, I maintain that violence is not the answer,” Silver Spoon said. “If you would just let your royal advisor and I work on a diplomatic solution, then I am sure that-”
“No!” the king cut her short. “Do you think ah know not what goes on when ah have my back turned? The two of you will stay right here. Sir Lance-a-lot the Brave, Ah entrust this task to you. Find this villain and bring him back here, so he may face my judgement,” she decreed as she leaned forward over the table, pointing her hoof at Scootaloo before banging it on the table again.

“Just leave it to me; I’ll bring him back kicking and screaming!” Scootaloo said as she raised a hoof enthusiastically, completely ignoring the script and the lines she should be using. Fortunately it came down to much the same thing, which was probably the only reason the fillies couldn’t hear Cheerilee grinding her teeth all the way out on stage. Scootaloo got up from the table and bowed down before her king before taking a few steps away from the table and turning around.
The lights went out for a short moment, and when they were turned back on only Scootaloo was still on stage, the King’s table was completely deserted and less lighting was focused on that area than before. In addition to this, Scootaloo was now carrying a white lance around with her, holding it under one of her wings.

She started walking across the stage, taking roundabout routes around some set props and pieces of decor.
“These are the Wildlands, there is no doubt. So where could that weaselly Reginald be? I heard he’s sly as a fox, and true as that may be, he’ll never outwit the likes of me.”
Speaking thusly Sir Lance-a-lot came up to a part of the stage that quite obviously represented a mountain with a mine entrance leading into it. The backdrop of the decor served as the mountain while the shallow mine entrance was more of a little building on stage, and expertly made.

A small hooded figure suddenly emerged on the scene, wearing black robes. His face was hidden by the hood, but anyone could deduce it was Snips based on his height and a simple process of elimination.
The new arrival casually strolled down the same path Sir Lance-a-lot was currently on, and it wasn’t long before they crossed paths in front of the mine itself.
“Halt! By order of the king I, Sc-ehem-Sir Lance-a-lot have come to put an end to Reginald the Sly. Are you he?” Scootaloo said louder than was necessary even during a play.

“Oh no, noble knight. I am but a simple hermit, living in the mountains yonder,” the robed figure replied as he motioned towards the mountains in the distance.
Scootaloo scoffed at this and raised her chin. “A little thing such as you would indeed not have been much of a challenge. You look like you can hardly stand upright during a gentle summer breeze. Now tell me quick, simple soul, if I wish to find this Reginald, where should I go?”
“Ah, you are indeed fortunate, sir knight. The villain you seek has his lair in this very cave.” The robed pony motioned at the mine entrance with a nod of his head.

“In there? You’re sure of this?” the brave knight asked as she peered inside.
“Of course, would I lie? You might have to leave your lance behind though, a lot of narrow passages down there.”
The filly threw the stranger a few scrutinizing glances, then looked straight at the audience and shrugged. She placed her lance against the rocks outside and approached the entrance. “If I don’t find him in there I’m coming back here to kick your flank!” Scootaloo said, again interpreting the script liberally.

As soon as she stepped into the darkness Snips sprang into motion and pulled a rock away to reveal an old-fashioned lever hidden there, not unlike those used to change the direction of train tracks.
“Hey! It’s a dead end in here. What are you playing at?” Scootaloo’s voice came echoing from inside of the mine.
Upon hearing this Snips pulled the lever into a neutral position, and at once a metal gate slammed shut over the entrance to the mine. Scootaloo’s helmed head reappeared in the light as she looked at the metal bars in front of her with fake astonishment, shaking them violently with her hooves. “What is this trickery? Let me out right this instant, or the justice of King Goldencrown shall come down upon your head, be whomever you may!”

The hooded pony let out a diabolical laugh as he approached the metal gate, standing next to it as he addressed the knight, so that he may still roughly be facing the audience as well.
“Be whoever I may? Why, you’re thicker than I thought, you righteous foal. It is of course I, Reginald the Sly,” Snips announced as he drew back the hood to reveal himself. “Did you think I would not expect one of you to come here eventually, or that I would not recognise the ‘Great’ Sir Lance-a-lot, bravest of all the knights in the realm, when she arrived upon my doorstep? It is your courage that shall now be your undoing,” he continued, followed by more laughter.

Sir Lance-a-lot shook the metal gate some more, and tried to lift it up, but she could not. “You devil! You heathen, you dishonourable wretch! When I get out of here, it’ll be off with your head!”
Reginald the Sly paused for a moment as he put both his hooves on the lever once more. “Then it is fortunate,” he said menacingly, “that you will never get out of there, ever again.”
He pulled down, and suddenly a great rumbling could be heard throughout the theatre as the orchestra kicked in with an impressive display of percussive instruments. Sir Lance-a-lot, much like the audience, recoiled and looked around fearfully, taking a few steps backwards into the mine, thus disappearing out of sight.

There was a loud crash as a cloud of smoke or dust erupted from the mine. Once it cleared out and the music died down, the audience could see the entrance of the cave again, but the opening behind the metal gate was now blocked by what appeared to be a wall of stone and rubble.
Snips simply took the lance the knight had left behind between his teeth and walked off, as the stage lights gradually died down and the curtains closed.
The audience remained silent for a moment--surprised by the sudden development--but then suddenly started talking amongst themselves about the events of the play so far. The only one who seemed to have anything bad to say about it was Rainbow Dash, who thought it was pure folly to kill off the character of the “most talented actor in the group” so soon.

Cheerilee left her spot in the prompt’s corner and went back under the stage. She headed in the direction of a faint banging noise, towards the part directly under the mine. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought that everything she had worked for all these months was finally about to pay off, and memories of how it had all started involuntarily flooded her mind.
***
“And that’s how Equestria was made,” Cheerilee concluded her little history lesson. She turned away from the blackboard to face the class, and was at once struck by how eerily unfamiliar the scene still felt. Ever since the board had decided to change up the groups and put her in charge of the fillies and foals who needed some ‘extra attention’, things had been taking a turn for the worst. She was used to seeing students off at the end of the year and welcoming new ones back in the beginning of the next, of course. But despite that, getting a new group assigned to her out of the blue just didn’t feel quite right.

Especially not this group, Cheerilee thought as she gritted her teeth in pure frustration.
It became at once clear that no filly or foal in the room had actually been listening to a word she had said, as per usual. Instead Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were having a hushed conversation, while Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara seemed to be more inclined to admiring each other’s jewellery instead of concentrating on the lesson at hand. In the back row, Snips and Snails were laughing at something that could only ever be amusing to the likes of them.

A smile suddenly crept onto Cheerilee’s face as she noticed there was, in fact, one single filly who seemed to be paying attention.
“Oh Apple Bloom? Would you mind explaining the importance of the day-night cycle to your less attentive classmates?” Cheerilee asked as cheerfully as she could manage.
To her great surprise and even greater annoyance, Apple Bloom seemed to veer up at the mere mention of her name, looking around the room somewhat panicky. “Oh… ummm…Yea, yea I s’pose ah can... ehhmmm... lessee here now...” Apple Bloom said as she scratched her head. “Night an’ day are important... Because... Because if there were only one or th’other, either Luna or Celestia would be very sad,” she concluded with a smile, raising a hoof in a ‘That’s it, right?’ gesture.

Cheerilee gritted her teeth once again. Of course. The one filly who had been paying attention hadn’t understood a word she’d said.
As Cheerilee opened her mouth to formulate a chastising response, Scootaloo suddenly loudly interjected “That’s stupid! Really, who could ever come up with a reason as ridiculous as that?” she pointed a hoof towards Apple Bloom.
“Ah don’t see you comin’ up with a better answer either. Ah bet you don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Apple Bloom retorted just as loudly as she crossed her hooves in front of her chest.

“Oh yeah? Why did I get a better grade on that last test then?”
“We all know you cheated!” “Did not!” “Did so!” “Did NOT!” “DID SO! “DI-“
“GIRLS!” Cheerilee shouted. “This is neither the time nor the place to hold such pointless debates! You’re here to learn and pay attention. And that goes for all of you, yes you too Diamond Tiara, don’t look so surprised!” She paused one moment as she met the gaze of every filly and foal in turn, as they were finally quiet for once. “I’d have thought the topic of today’s class would be exceedingly interesting to young ponies who, like you all, witnessed Princess Luna’s return, a major historical event that shed much light on our country’s history and origins.”

“Oh yeah!” Apple Bloom chimed in. “She was stuck on the moon for a thousand years, right?”
“The moon?” Scootaloo snorted. “That’s impossible. Not even Rainbow Dash could fly that high! Besides, what would she eat for a thousand years? The moon doesn’t exactly look grassy from where I’m standing.”
At this Apple Bloom remained uncharacteristically silent, as she pondered the question. “She could just eat cheese, right? The moon’s made of the stuff!”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes as she planted her own hoof against her forehead. “The moon is not made of cheese!” “Oh it is so!”

“Ehem,” came a more serene voice from beside the two, as Sweetie Belle moved her head closer to the pair. “I’m sorry Apple Bloom, but I have to agree with Scootaloo here. The moon can’t be made out of cheese.”
By this point the other fillies and foals had pretty much reverted to their own activities again, as Cheerilee stood softly bumping her head into the blackboard, completely at a loss about how in the hay she could get through to these ponies. She stopped doing so as she heard Sweetie Belle’s calm voice, and her ears rose up as she listened. Perhaps at least one of them had some sense in her yet!

“It can’t be made out of cheese,” Sweetie Belle stated confidently, “because if it was, Luna’d have eaten a huge hole in it by now.”
“Oh yeah!” Apple Bloom said as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “Ah s’pose that makes sense.”
“NO!” Cheerilee screamed as she turned around. “It does not! It does not make any sense at all! The moon isn’t made out of cheese because, ugh, you know what… Forget it. Class dismissed! You all have the rest of the day off. Go!” She pointed wildly at the door, not trusting herself to be able to keep calm in the company of these impossible foals and fillies for even a moment longer. She thought she might start breaking things if this went on.

All of the foals and fillies in the classroom quickly got up from their desks, nearly galloping for the door.
“What’s up with her?” Scootaloo asked as soon as they got out of the room, but when they were still well within earshot of Cheerilee.
“Meh, Ah dun’ even know” Apple Bloom said as she shrugged.
They suddenly heard the tell-tale sound of shattering glass coming from the classroom behind them. They both looked back over their shoulder, looked at each other, shrugged, and continued on their way.

***
Cheerilee paced up and down the length and width of her living room relentlessly. Pieces of splintered wood covered the floor, starting at where her table had been and trailing all the way into the kitchen, where you could just make out the rough outline of what had once been one of the table’s legs. Shards of porcelain and hardened clay were sprinkled around, and the place just generally looked like a hurricane had swept through it. Or two.
Cheerilee stopped pacing around for a moment, but only so she could aim a few well-placed kicks at the remaining pieces of furniture in the room. “Why?!? Why can’t I get these ponies to BEHAVE!” she screeched in frustration.

And this, in fact, lay at the very centre of the issue. Ever since she had earned her Cutie Mark, she had been able to bring out the best in ponies and watch them blossom, watch them grow. Yet here were a bunch of foals and fillies she’d been working on for over six months, and they hadn’t learned anything. Not a single thing!
It ate at her confidence and kept her up at night. She lay twisting and turning as she wondered if she was losing her edge, if she had lost her gift. She had spend countless hours at the library Twilight Sparkle tended to, under the guise of looking for reading material that might interest her students. When Twilight had noted she'd been looking mostly at books covering the subject of Cutie Marks, Cheerilee had told her she was interested in alleviating the concerns three of her pupils had, the self-proclaimed Cutie Mark Crusaders.

But that wasn't true; the real reason was the one question constantly on Cheerilee’s mind: Can a Cutie Mark be mistaken? Is it possible that I never was as good at teaching as I thought I was? That I simply had easy foals and fillies to work with before? Or if a Cutie Mark is accurate at the time it manifests, can it perhaps grow inaccurate over time?
These questions and many more like it slowly pushed Cheerilee down into an all-encompassing feel of depression. She found her patience wearing increasingly thin and lost faith in herself more and more. It became hard to get up in the morning, and harder still to bring herself to return to the classroom where she knew they would be waiting, to turn another day into a living hell.

For the last few nights she had been lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what it would be like to just let it all go. At times like that she would sometimes tilt her head to look at the glimmering steel of the knife she had put on her nightstand, just in case she ever found the brief moment of courage she needed to... to…
Cheerilee walked over to the huge standing mirror in a corner of her living room, which, surprisingly enough, remained intact. She looked at the reflection of her Cutie Mark in the mirror. Those faces, those smiling faces seemed to laugh at her, mock her, belittle her for ever having had the audacity to think that she was good at something, good at anything…

“NO!” Cheerilee yelled as she bucked her hind legs hard at the mirror, her hooves shattering it into a thousand pieces, which joined the mess on the floor.
Cheerilee’s eyes twitched slightly as she panted and stared out of her window, into her wild and overgrown garden. Normally it’d be neatly trimmed and filled with beautiful flowers this time of the year, but with her ever increasing moments of depression and lethargy--not to mention all the trips to the library--she had not been able to tend to her garden as well as she would have liked. Vines and weeds choked the budding flowers she had planted long ago, suffocating them and slowly squeezing the life out of their growth.

She stared first at the garden and then at her Cutie Mark, and then at the garden once more. And suddenly it all became clear to her, it all made sense. It was not that she wasn’t a good teacher, oh no! She had a gift, a great gift, she had always had it, and she hadn’t lost it. She would never lose it.
But her garden, her class… was overgrown by vines and weeds. Weeds that had to be purged from it, if flowers were ever to bloom again. Vines that had to be cut down and pulled out root and all, if she were to take her responsibilities as a teacher seriously.

She quietly sat staring out of her window as night fell, the stars and the moon barely illuminating the darkness enough for her to see. She thought about what she should do next, what she could do. She realized the plans she was making were for the best and would eventually save more lives than they would ruin. But some ponies--most notably the families of the weeds she had identified--might not see it the same way. They wouldn’t be able to comprehend the truth of the matter, not in the way she did.

So she’d need to be subtle. She'd need to be crafty. And yet, something inside of her didn’t want this all to go down quietly in the night. She desired a show. She desired spectacle. She wanted to show everyone in Ponyville once and for all what a great teacher she was, and to assure them that she could deal with any problem that might come up during their fillies and foals’ education. Even if the filly or foal in question was the problem.
She struggled with these seemingly contradictory goals for a while, before finally receiving yet another epiphany, another glorious idea.

“I think…” she whispered quietly in the dark as she slowly grasped the knife from the nearby nightstand and held it up in the light of the moon. "It’s time for another school play..."
She started giggling as all her fears, doubts and other dark emotions burst forth into a vortex of madness. She snatched up a picture frame from the desk next to her. The picture it contained had been taken just earlier that month; it was the obligatory 'Teacher with Her Class' photograph they made every year. She took it out of the frame and lit one of the candles in the room, surprised that she still had one that wasn’t too broken. As the little flame illuminated the room, she carefully held the picture in it. The flame burned brighter and started to consume the picture, licking at the hooves of the foals and fillies who’s images had been captured on it.

And for the first time in six months, Cheerilee just couldn’t stop smiling.
***
Scootaloo took a few steps backwards into the darkness and acted surprised, preparing for the trapdoor to open underneath her. She dropped down with great agility as the floor disappeared, and landed in a sort of metal cage a few feet lower. A cloud of dust was blown out of the mine entrance above her as a metal press came down to fill the mine and cover the entrance. Scootaloo knew that for the audience it wouldn’t look like metal at all, as they had decorated the outside with what would appear to be stones and rocks to them.

“Ow!” she grimaced as she landed, the bars on the bottom of the cage biting into her hooves. She looked down and frowned. There used to be a large piece of wood covering the bottom of the metal cage, but it was nowhere to be found. There was a great, round plastic tub underneath the cage, which Scootaloo couldn’t remember seeing before either. Then again, she mused, the wooden plank would have naturally kept it out of sight.
She quickly tugged on a few key strings in her outfit with her teeth, undoing the knots one by one. Since these knots kept the entire outfit together it wasn’t long before she could simply shake it off. It looked very cool, but it sure was uncomfortable to move around in. She decided to just leave the outfit there for now. After all, she wasn’t able to go back to the dressing room until the show was over, and she sure wasn’t dragging it around with her.

She reached out to the cage door and attempted to push it open, but to her great surprise it wouldn’t budge. She pushed against it for a while and then threw her shoulder into it--which she instantly regretted--but still it would not open. Turning around, she bucked her hind legs at the door in an attempt to force open the lock, but she may as well not have bothered. All she ended up doing was sending some banging noises echoing throughout the area.
“Dumb door! If I find out who locked this thing I’m going to...” she hissed in frustration, when Cheerilee suddenly emerged from the darkness, Scootaloo’s head about level with hers for once.

Cheerilee simply smiled at the filly as she approached the cage, not saying a single word.
“Miss Cheerilee! I wasn’t going to say anything bad, honest! Just that I’m going to be... very upset with the pony who locked the door, that’s all,” she said sheepishly. At least Cheerilee would probably be able to get her out of there.
She started to feel somewhat uncomfortable as Cheerilee just stood there unmoving, her features still obscured by the darkness that reigned supreme under the stage.

“Oh I get it! Haha! It was a joke! That’s great Miss Cheerilee; you obviously haven’t lost your touch for pranks yet! Now euh... could you please let me out?” the young filly asked pleadingly, not sure what to make of the mare’s strange behaviour.
Cheerilee nodded enthusiastically as she stepped forward and a wide toothy grin split her face. Something about the look in her teacher’s eyes shocked Scootaloo deeply; it felt as if she saw nothing but hatred and contempt in those big, green globes. Cheerilee reached out for a lever on the wall and pulled it down slightly, and suddenly the mass of metal above Scootaloo’s head started to inch its way down toward her at a steady pace.

The little filly suddenly didn’t feel comfortable in the cage anymore, and she let out a little squeal of terror. “Wait! What’s going on, please stop! This isn’t funny anymore, Miss Cheerilee! I want to get out! Let me out!”
Cheerilee brought her face close to the cage to stare at Scootaloo, relishing in the terror she was inflicting upon one of the little monsters that had tormented her for so long. “I thought you wanted to get out of the cage? This’ll get you out, you little weed. Just watch.”

Scootaloo’s brave facade finally broke, as tears started streaming down her face. “No! You ca-can’t do th-this! Everypony will kn-know... th-they’ll find out! Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle will come look for me, and...”
“HAH!” Cheerilee interrupted the frantic filly as she burst into genuine laughter. “Ahahaha! You foal; those friends of yours are next. And as for the others... You let me worry about that, ok? You have different problems,” Cheerilee nodded up at the wall of iron still inching down. There was now less than half the original amount of space left between it and the bottom of the cage.

“NO!” the little filly screamed as she lifted her front legs above her head, pushing up against the metal threatening to crush her against the bottom of the cage. The press protested with some metallic screeching noises and shuddered for a moment, and then almost came to a complete stop.
With the machine pushing down on her and her pushing up to halt its progress, the pressure on the hooves that remained on the bottom bars of the cage was immense. She whimpered as the thin, rectangular metal strips slowly started to crack them, but she didn’t dare move for fear of being crushed. The machine did not relent and the cracks grew wider and wider, making her pant with pain as Cheerilee stood and watched.

Finally she let out a scream as her hooves broke and the thin bars got driven up into her flesh, blood slowly starting to boil up around the metal and dripping down into the tub underneath. Scootaloo bit down onto her lip as she panted from the immense pain that washed over her as the blunt bars broke her skin, tearing and pulling at her flesh.
“Please... p-please...stop... please, I’ll... unghh... I’ll... be... good... I swear!” she managed to get out between the gasps for air and the cries of pain that otherwise escaped her mouth.

“Eight months, EIGHT MONTHS!” Cheerilee suddenly screeched out in fury, abruptly switching over from laughter to anger in the blink of an eye. “That’s how much time you had to show a glimmer of intelligence, and you failed!” In a fit of rage Cheerilee pulled down the lever a bit more, and the metal press instantly started to push down even harder, trying to crush Scootaloo even faster. “For the good of all the flowers in the world, weeds like you must DIE!”
Scootaloo tried to cry out as the metal bars were driven through the fleshy parts of her hooves, the metal angrily coming to a grinding halt against the bones in her legs, but instead of screams all that came out of her mouth was a disgusting gurgling sound, followed by waves of bile and vomit as the unearthly pain turned her stomach upside down, and nearly made her black out on the spot. The foul and sour substance splattered all over the floor of the cage and dribble down Scootaloo’s body from her mouth, joining the streams of blood as they tumbled into the tub below. The only thing keeping her conscious was the copious amounts of adrenaline her body was pumping into her system, in a desperate attempt to try and survive the ordeal.

Cheerilee took a few quick steps back as the vomiting started, to avoid getting any of it on her hooves. That’d be simply distasteful. The machine continued pushing Scootaloo down, and she already had to bend slightly forward as she began hysterically pushing up with her shoulders and head as well, grinding her hooves into the metal below even more. Her legs shook violently, and she knew they would be unable to take the pressure much longer.
The bars of the cage floor ground against her bare bones and they slowly began to crack. Scootaloo screamed in wordless terror, pain and hysteria once more, her mind filled only with the red hot feeling of pain emanating not only from her heavily mutilated hooves, but also from the rest of her body. Her throat was raw and coarse from all the screaming and vomiting, blood dripping out of the corners of her mouth, and her upper legs, shoulders and neck were all feeling the strain from pushing up against the metal.

Suddenly the strain became too much for her little pony legs, as the bones in her hooves snapped. The metal strips shot up through her legs as the metal plate pushed her down, cleaving through her young, soft flesh like butter, and splitting her overstressed bones neatly in two. The new pain--a hundred times worse than all that had come before--send her into a new fit of vomiting, but all that would come out was a puddle of blood that she spat all over herself.
Her body couldn’t handle the sensory overload and she teetered on the brink of a black out, but every new bone that snapped pulled her right back out of the sweet embrace of darkness, and the blunt metal bar shot up through her so fast now that there was hardly had any time to fall unconscious at all.

Blood splattered down into the tub, where it pooled into a lake alongside of various other bodily fluids, with more blood leaking out of Scootaloo’s legs as if she were an opened bottle of tomato juice someone was holding upside down.
The room swam before her eyes and she was too weak to continue screaming. Her forelegs started to give out and would soon lose their strength as she started to drift out of consciousness in earnest.
Then suddenly, after what seemed to Scootaloo as a century after the metal had broken through her first bone--although it was in reality only a few moments--the metal plate stopped pressing down and actually moved back up a little bit as Cheerilee pushed the lever up, an insane look of glee on her face.

Scootaloo, now unable to brace her weakened body against anything as the metal plate slid out of reach, tumbled backwards onto the bottom of the cage. The metal bars were still stuck halfway up her legs, holding them in place. Her weakened legs couldn’t handle the strain as she toppled backwards into a physically impossible position, and with a horrendous scream and torrents of blood Scootaloo’s leg simply broke off in the middle, muscles and ligaments tearing off of the bones as they broke right around the weak point the metal bars had created.

She had thought the worst pain had been over, but for the second time in a few minute she had been proven wrong: there had been a pain worse than what she had been going through, and this was it. She almost barfed up blood all over herself again when she looked down at the part of her mangled legs that was still attached, as well as the little bloody stumps sticking up above the cage’s floor, but she simply didn’t seem to have any in her anymore.
Her body had grown pale due to the copious amounts of blood she had lost and was still losing, and she’d probably die within the next few minutes even if a fully-equipped medical team appeared on the scene right then and there.

Cheerilee stood with her left hoof on the lever, panting heavily and shaking with pure excitement, completely unable to keep the ecstasy she felt at her twisted dreams finally coming true out of her voice as she spoke. “Any last words, my little weed?”
Scootaloo could hardly hear her through the ungodly amounts of pain she was in, as death started to wrap her in his cold embrace. Her body had lost so much fluids by now that she couldn't even manage to cry as she thought about what she’d like to say to Rainbow Dash, like being sorry that she’d never grow up to be the flyer Rainbow Dash thought she could be. Instead all that came out of her mouth was a low gurgling, and another pool of blood.

“I guess not. WHO’D WANT TO HEAR IT ANYWAY?” Cheerilee yelled almost hysterically as she pulled the lever completely down.
The little filly saw the metal plate storm down at her like a battering ram, her body too weak for a bigger reaction than her feeble attempt to raise her front hooves up to shield her head. With a sickening crash the machine pounded down into the filly, driving her entire body into the bars below.
The crash was so sickeningly loud that even Cheerilee closed her eyes and turned her head away for a moment, as she brought up a hoof protectively. She could feel warm blood splatter against her face and body, and opened an eye tentatively. The metal press now filled the entire cage, and Scootaloo was nowhere to be found. Blood spatters could be seen in a wide radius around the cage, and blood dripped down the side of the tub to make puddles on the floor. With her legs shaking in excitement, Cheerilee approached the tub, taking care not to step into any of the puddles.

For a moment she just stared down into the sanguine lake, amazed that there had been so much... stuff packed into the tiny filly’s body. Various chunks of flesh and bone floated around in the grotesque sea, like tiny boats. Cheerilee angled her head to look at the bottom of the cage, and saw little bits and pieces of Scootaloo still trapped between the metal plate and the bars of the cage, but apart from those--and the huge scarlet stain on the metal--no sign of the filly ever having been in the cage remained.

Cheerilee licked her lips while surveying the scene once more, but suddenly stopped as the bitter taste of iron entered her mouth. She had forgotten she got blood all over herself as well, but it tasted surprisingly... good. This must be what they meant when they talked about the sweet taste of vengeance, Cheerilee mused as she licked her lips and cheeks clean.
She spotted Scootaloo’s eyes floating around in the lake of blood, staring up unseeingly at the ceiling. She couldn’t help but crack up and laugh hysterically, even as she went to get cleaned up. Even long after she got the very last spatters of blood out of her coat (the visible ones anyway) she just couldn’t stop. She hadn’t seen something this amusing all year!