There was a laughter, soft and deranged, emanating from the darkness and echoing off the walls of a damp and dark cellar.
In this cellar, in the only illuminated part, lit by a gradually swaying light fixture, it was quite a sight.
There were dried intestines hanging from the blood-caked ceiling. There were skulls, brightly painted and of varying shapes and sizes attached to the walls that were also spattered with blood. There were organs, colored with pastels, filled with helium and tied to chairs made of bone and draped with flesh. More hidden in shadows, there was a table also made of bones and draped with flesh. The centerpiece was the decapitated heads of four foals with party hats made of their own skin on. Also in the shade, above the table, there was a banner made of dried equine hides. On the banner, written in blood, it read "Life is a party!"
All of these things had at least a splotch of blood on it. Directly underneath the swaying fixture, there was a table. It was hard to tell what exactly it was made of, as it had the most amount of blood on it. The table also contained five straps; four at each of the of the corners of the table and one across the middle. The straps were also indistinguishable under all of the blood.
This table was in use.
There was a cream pony strapped to the table with a large gash down her belly. In that gash, a pink pony buried her head.
The cream pony, of course, was dead.
The moment the sound of the laughter met the pink pony's paranoid and alert ears, she sprang from the corpse.
She quickly grabbed the fixture and pointed it at where she thought the laughter had come from. She stared daggers at nothing for two minutes straight. Then, reluctantly, she shrugged it off and continued with her harvest.