My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

The Six Lost Souls

Chapter 7. Pinkie Pie.

One more boy was left. I hardly had time to examine the last portrait before Marty clicked on it. The browser took us to a memorial page on facebook instead. It was titled, "In loving memory of Joseph Winkoski." It was unknown who made the page, since the creator of it had already deleted their profile and it only had eleven likes. To the upper right of the screen was his picture.

He had dark, olive toned skin, with a little bit of stubble on his face. A bright red bandana was wrapped around the top of his head, which made his hair not visible. The most noticeable thing about him was his bright green eyes.

"Wow," Marty spoke in an amazed voice, "He's very handsome."

"Yes," I replied, "What happened to him?"

Marty rubbed his chin, "I'll have to see," he added, "His memorial page is different from all the others." Marty clicked on the info tap which reviled a long typed paragraph.

"This should tell us something," Marty replied while staring at the text.

Joseph Winkoski was a foster child who went by the name Joe. It was very clear that he was the inspiration for Pinkie Pie. Out of all the boys we read about, he had the most saddest story. All he ever wanted was to make a bunch of friends, have a fun life, and be happy. Sadly, deep down inside, he knew that would never happen.

Joe was born inside a juvenile prison. When his mother was murdered by another inmate, he was sent to live with his biological father. Eventually, his father died of a drug overdose and Joe was adopted by a high class family when he was just two weeks old.

While Joe was a child, he had a difficult life. He was unloved by his adoptive parents, who really only adopted him because of the finical benefits. Joe also suffered a mental disability, aspersers, which made it very difficult for him to make friends with children his own age. Every day would be the same for Joe as he would spend all his time at home, either playing with action figures or playing video games for hours on end. He had no friends to spend his free time with.

As he got older, things only got worse. Joe suffered from a severe forum of depression. His psychiatrist put on him powerful and high stimulating antidepressant pills, which drastically effected his personality. This made him hyper and impulsive, but he never really did anything dangerous.

He acted very cheerful, and happy. Always laughing, and always talking and jabbering on and on about random stuff. Joe also became very fun loving and outgoing. Every night he was always in a bright cheerful and energetic mood, and always wanted to party, but no one ever wanted to be bothered with him. His teachers and classmates always found him annoying, and many people believed he was just acting out to get attention.

He started dressing in bright pink and red, flamboyant, over the top clothing, which often caused him to be bullied in school. Whenever he asked someone if they wanted to hang out or party with him, they'd always tell him the same thing.

"Ewww! No Joe!," they'd all say, "No one wants to be around a freak like you!"

Even though Joe seemed sad or upset at all, these comments were very devastating to his feelings. Underneath his bright and happy personality, was a sad and depressed soul waiting to die.

The only close friend Joe ever had was his uncle, Doug. Joe was later sent to live with him, in the Dominican Republic. Doug was the only biological family member Joe would ever know and become close too. It was truly the only time in Joe's life when he ever was truly happy. Unfortunately, after two years, Joe had to move back in with his foster parents due to Doug's lack of funds to support him.

Joe grieved over having to move out of his uncle's home. Back in the town Joe lived in, he had no friends at all. No one ever wanted to talk to him or sit next to him at lunch. To cope with this, Joe doubled his daily doses of the anti-depressants he was on. Little did he know, he was slowly being driven to insanity.

In September of 2004, his uncle committed suicide. When Joe found out, his fragile stability was shattered. By the time he was 17, he was already deeply depressed and worse than he ever was. The other classmates at his school often tormented him, and taunted him because of his personality, and the way he dressed.

His reputation of being what appeared to be a hyperactive, out of control teenage boy, caused him to be tormented and judged by nearly everyone in town. It was only a matter of time before he would succumb to the intense pain and pressure he was under.

Joe woke up from his bed that cold, March night. He peered at his alarm cock, as the red numbers glowed back at him. It was 3:45 AM. "This is it," he thought, "Time to do it."

Very slowly, Joe crept out of his bedroom. He slowly made his way downstairs to the kitchen until he came to the medicine cabinet. A full container of pills caught his eye. He snatched the pills out of the medicine cabinet and read the label. Printed on the label in narrow black letters was Ibuprofen.

"This should work," Joe thought, "After I'm done, I'll never have to live this life again." Quietly, Joe filled up a class with water from the kitchen faucet and crept back upstairs to his bedroom. He poured the container of bright blue pills into his hands. One by one, he swallowed each of them while continually taking sips of water. When he was all done taking every pill in the container, he set the glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed, and slowly drifted off into a deep sleep.

What Joe didn't know was that the Ibuprofen was going to have a much worse effect on him than death. The Ibuprofen caused a blood vessel in his brain to rapture, causing blood to drip into his cerebrum. This caused him to go into a deep coma. When his adoptive parents found him, they called the undertakers to dispose of his body.

Once the undertakers arrived, they discovered that Joe was still alive, but had a very weak heartbeat. He was immediately rushed to the hospital and was put into intensive care. After five days he woke up from his comma, but his brain was damaged.

He started to have nightmares and suffer from terrifying hallucinations. Right after he woke up, he was transported to a psychiatric hospital. For days, Joe was locked in the restricted unit, isolated from the other patients. The hallucinations and nightmares became more intense as time passed. Soon, he would start to hear voices. The psychiatrist and doctors were doubtful that he'd ever go back to normal.

A bright, shinning light glared into Joe's eyes as he woke up. He looked around and saw that he was still dressed in his typical outfit, a bright pink, V-neck t-shirt, and bright, hot pink shorts. His red bandanna was also tied around his head, like it always ways.

The room he was in was large, and the white walls and floor was padded. Florescent ceiling lights light the whole area. He had no idea where he was, or how he got there. Joe scratched his head confusingly, "Where am I?" he asked himself. It was then, he heard the low, raspy voice whisper to him.

"Joe…" the voice whispered slowly, echoing through the whole room, "Joe…"

Chills ran down Joe's spine. He was terrified as he did not know where the voice was coming from. "Who is that!?" He shouted, while shivering, "Who are you!? Show yourself!"

"Joe…" the whispering voice snared. Joe quickly spun around as he was startled by the noise of a door swinging open. The door lead out of the padded room, into a dimly light hallway.

"Joe…" the voice snared again, echoing though the deserted hallway.

Joe slowly crept out of the room, and followed the haunting, mysterious voice calling his name. Little did he know, the voice was leading him to his own, tragic fate. The voice lead him down the dark hallway which was light by the moonlight through the windows. Soon, he reached a door that was ajar.

He made his way through the door and climbed up multiple flights of stairs. The voices echoed his name over and over again. Joe was still unaware of what was going on. Up ahead the last flight of stairs, was a door which was left wide open. He made his way through it and saw that he was on the roof of the hospital. The cold, winter winds blew intensely through his skin.

The voices were louder now. He could hear them everywhere, and all around him. "Fly!" the voice snared loudly, "You can fly!". Joe became confused, then he started straight ahead and saw that he was hundred of feet off ground. "Fly away," the voice snared, "Your free to fly away,". Joe slowly walked towards the edge of the rooftop. Slowly, he spread his arms out wide while he stepped closer and closer. "You can fly!" the voice shouted, "fly!" Joe slowly closed his eyes. His whole body became relaxed as he stepped closer and closer to the edge of the rooftop... Then he jumped…

Joe Winkoski was the last boy to die on March 15th 2005. His body was found impaled on flagpole outside the entrance to the hospital. Naturally, his careless, greedy adoptive parents sought this out as a perfect opportunity to get free money. They sued the hospital with a large lawsuit of a wrongful death. To make the facts even more chilling, Pinkie Pie was originally designed to be a Pegasus on the show.

Right before I was going to burst out into tears, I realized something very important. "None of this is true!" I shouted at Marty, "You can't seriously believe this! Some crazy guy with a sick twisted imagination typed all of this… Don't you think?"

Marty stared at me with a troubled look on his face. He paused for a great amount of time until he spoke in a soft voice, "I need to show you something… Follow me…"

He got out of his seat, and I followed him downstairs. We both went out the front door, and walked down the street as the sun was setting.