Carrier

>"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!"
>You look around and smile a little nervously at your family members.
>They're all grinning and singing along, and you mother is lowering a cake to the table in front of you.
>"Happy birthday dear Annnnooonnnymousss..."
>"Happy birthday to you!"
>You close your eyes and blow the candles out, making a wish.
>Please just kill me now.
>"Yayyyyyy!"
>Arms in the air, your family is laughing and smiling and shoving presents into your lap.
>Your dad walks over and gives you a slap on the back.
>You don’t feel it.
>"Good job lasting this long son. Makin' me proud."
"T-thanks dad."
>Your dad furrows his brow a little at that.
>”What’s up?”
>You just pretend not to hear him and unwrap a gift instead of answering.
>It’s a cheapo plushy of a generic unicorn.
>You jump up, knocking down your chair in your hurry to toss the pony plush back onto the table and get away from it.
>”HAHAHA!”
>Your crazy Scottish uncle walks up, not realizing your terror.
>He picks up the plushie and waggles it in your face, still laughing.
>You nearly puke in fear, but he still doesn’t seem to see, your father on the other hand looks even more concerned now.
>But before he can say anything, your uncle booms:
>”Ey! got er gut chukle out er tat eh lad?”
>”I- I-“
>”But dern’t yu worreh lad!”
>Your uncle shoves his hand into the rump of the plushie and rips out a phone, along with a ton of stuffing that goes flying all over.
>He sets it in your hand and you nearly drop it, your hands numb and stiff.
>”Ther ya’re. HAHAHAHA!”
>And off your uncle goes again to down some more beer.
>You flinch, getting a shock of pain from your gut.
>”What’s wrong Anonymous.”
>Your dad is staring straight into your eyes, dead serious.
>You try to fake a smile.
“Oh n-nothing, just… Feeling a little sick is all!”
>He’s not buying it.
>Your mom is beside you now too, grabbing at your shirt.
”Mom what-“
>”You’re bleeding!”
>She shows it to you, a growing bloody patch spreading and soaking through the fabric.
>You push her away and back into a corner, clutching desperately at your chest, trying to cover up the blood.
”Just… It’s fine okay.”
>Everyone is staring at you now, with increasingly shocked expressions.
>You look down at your chest, seeing the now copious amount of blood welling out of some unseen wound on your chest.
>Your dad goes to step towards you, but you put your hand up.
“STOP! Stop… I’m…”
>You’re crying now, tears rolling down your cheeks as you try to choke back your sobs to speak.
“I’m *hah* I’m feh-fine…”
>”You are obviously not fine Anonymous.”
>Your mom is in tears and dialing 911 on her cellphone.

>”WHAT. IS. WRONG. What happened!”
>You stare at your father, as stony faced as you can trying to wipe away the tears in your eyes.
>Then you laugh.
>Just the pure ridiculousness.
“Hah. Well I sure as fuck didn’t see myself here today.”
>You laugh and cry on, tearing off your shirt.
>Gasps of shock from your family ensue.
>There’s a hole in your chest, and bits of your flesh are stripping away around the area of your stomach.
>But you don’t feel a single bit of it.
>Still laughing, you start to tug at the strips of skin and muscle.
>Your family is still just looking on, far too shocked to properly react.
>Your mother has completely shut down, bumbling and sobbing over the phone with the 911 responder.
“Dad?”
>The floor is completely covered in your blood and chunks of your flesh, and your father is absolutely entranced by it.
>Bah, mere scraps of an imperfect vessel.
“Dad.”
>He looks at you.
“I’m…”
>You rip away the rest of your chest, you can feel yourself transcending further and further.
>Soon true nirvana will be yours.
“Hahaha… I am.”
>Vision fades, you fall to your knees still tearing away, snapping ribs that are no longer yours and throwing them aside.
>Your eyes roll back into your head and you smile, perfectly at peace.
>…
>”W-what are you Anonymous?”
>Suddenly vision abounds and you come flying from your carrier.
>You flick your new mane out of the way, feeling the soft blonde hair drape across your neck.
>Your father is staring down at what used to be your corpse, your mother has fainted, your uncle is chugging back a bottle of rum and your grandparents are sitting down trying to calm their old hearts.
>Well that just won’t do!
>You trot up to your dad, hooves clacking on the floor, tail swishing.
>”Oh my god… What…”
>You poke his leg.
>In abject terror, your dad stares down at you, not quite understanding your transcendence beyond your old, pitiable and imperfect form.
>So you inform him with a playful smile on your snout.
>Your new voice was beyond anything you could have expected of even the greatest of the Equuus’thlaleopugress.
“I’m a pony! Could you brush my mane?”