Undead Anon: A Sketch (short, horror)

    >The accident had been as fatal as it had been unexpected
    >they had gotten you into the castle infirmary as quickly as they could
    >And that's when they found out exactly how your human physiology warped normal healing magic into something awful.
    >The spells worked, in a sense. They brought you back, true enough, but not...intact.
    >Your memories are a scrambled, foggy mess. You don't have a heartbeat. You have to remember to inhale before you speak.
    >Your flesh is cold to the touch, and nothing warms it. You can barely feel anything.
    >Food has no flavor. it's fine, because you're never hungry now anyway.
    >You remember looking into a mirror and seeing your cloudy eyes staring back, and then punching it over and over and over until the mirror shattered and your hand was covered with deep, bloodless cuts that ran down to the yellowing bone beneath
    >Which leads you to this moment.
>You're standing in the castle armory, over a blast furnace. And a few feet away, the princess is talking to you, urgently. She's surrounded by her guards
>"Anon...please, come away from the furnace," Princess Celestia says. "Please...Twilight says they're very close. They understand what's happened to you now. They can reverse what's happened to you. We can fix this, we can make you well, all you have to do is wait. Just a little bit longer. Please..."
>Her voice is pleading, urgent. You look down at your hands. they're covered with blood
>In a flash you suddenly remember what happened. The two guardsponies who tried to keep you out of here. You remember snapping in a rage and ripping them apart.
>You try to speak, and only a faint, hollow keening comes out. Celestia sees it and speaks again.
>"Anon, no one blames you for that. You're not in control, we all know it. Please, I beg you, come off of the catwalk--"
>You take in the faces of the guardsponies. They're determined, cold, and beneath their professional veneer, you can see something you've never seen there before.
>Fear. Of you. And you understand it, because you're terrified of yourself now, too.
>You look up at her. Breathe. Speak.
>"Can't--think. Nothing...nothing making sense. Hurt me. Bits of me--going away."
>You look down at the bubbling steel. You can still think after a fashion. You can't get it out. But you feel yourself slowly disintegrating, and somewhere in the dark of your mind, something monstrous, something cold is waiting to take your place.
>It's just waiting until you're just a little bit more dead than you are now.
>"Anon, PLEASE--I beg you--"
>"No...have to go. H-have to go while still...still I." You look up at her, her terrified face. She's crying. You did that to her even if by accident.
>"Still me. Love...you...goodbye."
>You let yourself tip. You can't even feel the heat coming up from the molten mithril alloy.
>"ANON, PLEASE! NO!" she cries. But she's too late by far.
>And then the world disappears in a blaze of light, taking you with it.