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Creepyponies

by All of the Above

Chapters

Jeff the Killer Pony

Excerpt from a local Newspaper:

OMINOUS UNKNOWN

KILLER IS STILL

AT LARGE.

After weeks of unexplained murders, the ominous unknown killer is still on the rise. After little evidence has been found, a young boy states that he survived one of the killer's attacks and bravely tells his story.

"I had a bad dream and I woke up in the middle of the night," says the boy, "I saw that for some reason the window was open, even though I remember it being closed before I went to bed. I got up and shut it once more. Afterwards, I simply crawled under my covers and tried to get back to sleep. That's when I had a strange feeling, like someone was watching me. I looked up, and nearly jumped out of my bed. There, in the little ray of light, illuminating from between my curtains, were a pair of two eyes. These weren't regular eyes; they were dark, ominous eyes. They were bordered in black and... just plain out terrified me. That's when I saw his mouth. A long, horrendous smile that made every hair on my body stand up. The figure stood there, watching me. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said it. A simple phrase, but said in a way only a mad man could speak.

"He said, 'GO TO SLEEP!' I let out a scream, that's what sent him at me. He pulled up a knife; aiming at my heart. He jumped on top of my bed. I fought him back; I kicked, I rolled around, trying to knock him off me. That's when my dad busted in. The man threw the knife, it went into my dad's shoulder. The man probably would've finished him off, if one of the neighbors hadn't alerted the police."

"They busted into my home, and ran towards my room. The man turned and ran down the hallway. I heard a smash, like glass breaking. As I came out of my room, I saw the window that was pointing towards the back of my house was broken. I looked out it to see him vanish into the distance. I can tell you one thing, I will never forget that face. Those cold, evil eyes, and that psychotic smile. They will never leave my head."

Police are still on the look for this man. If you see anyone that fits the description in this story, please contact your local police department.

Jeff and his family had just moved into a new town. His dad had gotten a promotion at work, and they thought it would be best to live in one of those "bigger" towns. Jeff's mom learned that the mane 6 resided here.  She would love it if she got to meet them one day.  Anyway, Jeff and his brother Bobble couldn't complain. A new, better house. What was not to love? As they were getting unpacked, a pink mare arrived

"Hello," she said, "I'm Pinkie Pie. I just happened to notice that you just moved here, so I came here to welcome you to town.  Ooh, since you just moved in and all, I might as well throw you guys a welcome to Ponyville party. And I throw the best parties."

"That sounds really nice.  Thank you." said Jeff's mom, "I'm Glacier, and this is my husband Silverstein, and my two sons, Jeff and Bobble." They each introduced themselves.  

"Wait."  Jeff's dad said.  "Pinkie Pie, as in the Pinkie Pie that's apart of the mane 6?"

"That's me."

"Oh... my... Celestia.  You and your friends are like goddesses back where we come from."

"Aaaw, thanks."  Pinkie Pie offered Silverstein a tour of Ponyville, which he happily accepted.  They started to trot off, when Glacier ran over to them.  Jeff and Bobble continued to unpack.  

When Jeff finished unpacking, he walked up to his room and plopped down on his bed. He sat there looking at his ceiling when suddenly, he got a weird feeling. Not so much a pain, but... a weird feeling. He dismissed it as just some random feeling. He closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

The next day, Jeff walked down stairs to get breakfast and got ready for his first day at a new school. As he sat there, eating his breakfast, he once again got that feeling. This time it was stronger. It gave him a slight tugging pain, but he once again dismissed it. As he and Liu finished breakfast, they walked down to their new school. They sat there taking a short break when  suddenly, some kid on a scooter jumped over them, only inches above their laps. They both jumped back in surprise. "What the hay?"

The kid landed and turned back to them. He let his scooter fall to the ground. The kid seems to be about twelve; one year younger than Jeff. He was blue, with a wild, green mane. He was also wearing a grey hoodie.

"Well, well, well. It looks like we got some new meat." Suddenly, two other kids appeared. One was super skinny and the other was huge. "Well, since you're new here, I'd like to introduce ourselves, over there is Euro." Jeff and Bobble looked over to the skinny kid. He had a dopey face that you would expect a sidekick to have. "And he's Flake." They looked over at the fat kid. Talk about a tub of lard. This kid looked like he hadn't exercised since he was crawling.

"And I," said the first kid, "am Samuel. Now, for all the kids in this neighborhood there is a small price for walking to school, if you catch my drift." Bobble stood up, ready to kick the lights out of the kid's eyes when one of his friends pulled a knife on him with his unicorn magic. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, I had hoped you would be more cooperative, but it seems we must do this the hard way." The kid walked up to Bobble and took his wallet out of his pocket. Jeff got that feeling again. Now, it was truly strong; a burning sensation. He stood up, but Bobble gestured him to sit down. Jeff ignored him and walked up to the kid.

"Listen here you little punk, give back my bro's wallet or else." Samuel put the wallet in his pocket and pulled out his own knife.

"Oh? And what will you do?" Just as he finished the sentence, Jeff popped the kid in the nose. As Samuel reached for his face, Jeff grabbed the kid's wrist and broke it. Samuel screamed and Jeff grabbed the knife from his hand. Flake and Euro rushed Jeff, but Jeff was too quick. He threw Samuel to the ground. Euro lashed out at him, but Jeff ducked and stabbed him in the arm. Euro dropped his knife and fell to the ground screaming. Flake rushd him too, but Jeff didn't even need the knife. He just punched Flake below the neck and Flake went down. As he fell, he puked all over. Bobble could do nothing but look in amazement at Jeff.

"Jeff how'd you?" that was all he said. They saw a purple mare with a white and pink mane rushing towards them and knew they'd be blamed for the whole thing. So they started running as fast as they could. As they ran, they looked back and saw the mare rushing over to Randy and the others. They guessed that it was the principal or something.  As Jeff and Bobble made it to school, they didn't dare tell what happened.

Bobble was more social than Jeff that day.  Bobble actually talked to everyone, while Jeff sat at his desk just listening to the lessons that the teacher was giving.  It was the teacher that he saw running towards those punks.  He prayed that she wouldn't recognize him.  

After a while of sitting and listening, a bright purple filly came his way.  "Hey look, it's another blank flank."  She said with a shrill, glass shattering voice.  Jeff cringed after hearing that.  Other than that, he didn't respond.  "Do you not want to talk about your blank fla-"  Jeff interrupted her.  The feeling wasn't gone, but it wasn't as strong as before.  

"Listen here you little brat.  I have had about enough social interaction for today.  Now if you could go shove your stupid little tiara down your throat, you would be doing a whole lot of us a huge favor."  Jeff said.  The filly named Diamond Tiara didn't respond.  She backed away slowly, then retreated to her desk.  She didn't speak at all for the rest of they day.

As the school day came to a close, Jeff was approached by three fillies.  One was a yellow earth pony with a red mane, another was a white unicorn with pink and white hair, and the last was an orange pegasus with purple hair.  The yellow one spoke first.

"My name's Apple Bloom, and this is Sweetie Belle,"  She pointed towards the unicorn who smiled and waved.  "And Scootaloo."  She pointed towards the orange pegasus.  "We heard about your little conversation with Diamond Tiara, and we just wanted to thank you for it."  Apple Bloom said.

"Thank me for what?"  Jeff asked.

"Diamond Tiara has been a pain for a long time.  You made her shut up for an entire day.  Nopony can do that."  The unicorn said.  

"Well, I'm happy I did you a service.  Now if you could just-"

"We also happened to notice that you don't have your cutie mark yet."  Apple Bloom said.  Jeff looked at his flank, seeing a blank spot of brown hair.  

"And we wanted to make you an offer you probably won't refuse."  Scootaloo said.  

Jeff thought for a moment.  "What's the offer?"

The three fillies backed away.  "We want you to join,"  They all said in unison.  They got a running start, and jumped.  They landed on the ground, yelling: "The Cutie Mark Crusaders!"  

Jeff jumped back, trying not to be jumped on.  "The Cutie Mark Crusaders?  What's that?"

"The Cutie Mark Crusaders are a secret organization that helps blank flanks as yourself to get their cutie marks."  Sweetie Belle told jeff.

Jeff pondered for a bit before answering.  "I'm going to back on you on that.  I just moved here, and I want to get a little more acquainted with the town before I go try to find my cutie mark."  

"We can wait.  You take all of them time you need."  Apple Bloom said.  They trotted towards the door, giving Jeff one last wave.  

'Cute.'  Jeff thought to himself.  

Jeff and Bobble walked home.  Jeff wanted to talk about what happened but Bobble cut him off.  "It's okay man, you saved my bacon back there.  It's not really a big deal."  Bobble just thought of it as his brother beating up a few kids, but Jeff knew it was more. It was something, scary. As he got that feeling he felt how powerful it was, the urge to just, hurt someone. He didn't like how it sounded, but he couldn't help feeling happy. He felt that strange feeling go away, and stay away for the rest of the day. When he got home his parents asked him how his day was, and he said, in a somewhat ominous voice, "It was a wonderful day."

The next morning, he heard a knock at his front door. He walked down to find two police officers at the door, his mother looking back at him with an angry look.

"Jeff, these officers tell me that you attacked three kids. That it wasn't regular fighting, and that they were stabbed. Stabbed, son!" Jeff's gaze fell to the floor, showing his mother that it was true.

"Mom, they were the ones who pulled the knives on me and Bobble."

"Son," said one of the cops," We found three kids, two stabbed, one having a bruise below his neck, and we have witnesses proving that you fled the scene. Now, what does that tell us?" Jeff knew it was no use. He could say him and Bobble had been attacked, but then there was no proof it was not them who attacked first. They couldn't say that they weren't fleeing, because truth be told they were. So Jeff couldn't defend himself or Bobble.

"Son, call down your brother." Jeff couldn't do it, since it was him who beat up all the kids.

"Sir, it...it was me. I was the one who beat up the kids. Bobble tried to hold me back, but he couldn't stop me." The cop looked at his partner and they both nod.

"Well kid, looks like a year in Juvy..."

"Wait!" says Bobble. They all looked up to see him holding a knife. The officers readied their horns and pointed them at Bobble.

"It was me, I beat up those little punks. Have the marks to prove it." He lifted up his hoof to reveal cuts and bruises, as if he was in a struggle.

"Son, just put the knife down," said the officer. Bobble held up the knife and dropped it to the ground. He put his hands up and walked over to the cops.

"No Bobble, it was me! I did it!" Jeff had tears running down his face.

"Huh, poor bro. Trying to take the blame for what I did. Well, take me away." The police led Bobble out to the patrol car.

"Bobble, tell them it was me! Tell them! I was the one who beat up those kids!" Jeff's mother put her hands on his shoulders.

"Jeff please, you don't have to lie. We know it's Bobble, you can stop." Jeff watched helplessly as the cop car speeds off with Bobble inside. A few minutes later Jeff's dad walked into the house, seeing Jeff's face and knowing something was wrong.

"Son, son what is it?" Jeff couldn't answer. His vocal cords were strained from crying. Instead, Jeff's mother walked his father inside to break the bad news to him as Jeff wept in the driveway. After an hour or so Jeff walked back in to the house, seeing that his parents were both shocked, sad, and disappointed. He couldn't look at them. He couldn't see how they thought of Bobble when it was his fault. He just went to sleep, trying to get the whole thing off his mind. Two days went by, with no word from Bobble at JDC. No friends to hang out with. Nothing but sadness and guilt. That is until Saturday, when Jeff is woke up by his mother, with a happy, sunshiny face.

"Jeff, it's the day." she said as she opened up the curtains and let light flood into his room.

"What, what's today?" asked Jeff as he stirs awake.

"Why, it's our 'Welcome to Ponyville' party."  

"Mom, you're joking, right? You don't expect me to go to some party after..." There was a long pause.

"Jeff, we both know what happened. I think this party could be the thing that brightens up the past days. Now, get dressed." Jeff's mother walked out of the room and downstairs to get ready herself. He fought himself to get up. He picked out a random shirt and pair of jeans and walked down stairs. He saw his mother and father all dressed up; his mother in a dress and his father in a suit. He thought, why they would ever wear such fancy clothes to a party.

"Son, is that all your going to wear?" said Jeff's mom.

"Better than wearing too much." he said. His mother pushed down the feeling to yell at him and hid it with a smile.  "Where did you even get those clothes?"

"There's a fashion boutique just down the road.  We met another one of the mane 6 there.  She gladly offered to make us some dresses and suits at a reasonable price."  said Jeff's mom.    

"Now Jeff, we may be over-dressed, but this is how you go if you want to make an impression." said his father. Jeff grunted and went back up to his room.

"I don't have any fancy clothes!" he yelled down stairs.

"Just pick out something." called his mother. He looked around in his closet for what he would call fancy. He found a pair of black dress pants he had for special occasions and an undershirt. He couldn't find a shirt to go with it though. He looked around, and found only striped and patterned shirts. None of which go with dress pants. Finally he found a white hoodie and put it on.

"You're wearing that?" they both said. His mother looked at her watch. "Oh, no time to change. Let's just go." She said as she herded Jeff and his father out the door. They took a wagon down to Sugarcube corner.  The bakery store looked like a ginger bread house with many different candy decorations. They walked inside, where they saw a variety of different ponies.  Most of them, like his parents, way overdressed.  Jeff looked around, and saw no kids.  

"The kids are out in the back lot. Jeff, how about you go and meet some of them?" said Glacier.  

Jeff walked outside to a lot full of kids. They were running around in weird cowboy costumes and shooting each other with plastic guns. He might as well be standing in a Toys R Us. Suddenly a kid came up to him and handed him a toy gun and hat.

"Hey, I'm Pipsqueak. Wanna pway?" he said.

"Ah, no kid. I'm way too old for this stuff." The kid looked at him with that weird puppydog face.

"Pwease?" said the kid. "Fine," said Jeff. He put on the hat and started to pretend shoot at the kids. At first he thought it was totally ridiculous, but then he started to actually have fun. It might not have been super cool, but it was the first time he had done something that took his mind off of Bobble. So he played with the kids for a while, until he heard a noise. A weird rolling noise. Then it hit him. Samuel, Flake, and Euro all jumped over the fence on their skateboards. Jeff dropped the fake gun and ripped off the hat. Sameul looked at Jeff with a burning hatred.

"Hello, Jeff, is it?" he said. "We have some unfinished business." Jeff saw his bruised nose." I think we're even. I beat the crap out of you, and you get my brother sent to JDC."

Samuel got an angry look in his eyes. "Oh no, I don't go for even, I go for winning. You may have kicked our flanks that one day, but not today." As he said that Samuel rushed at Jeff. They both fell to the ground. Samuel punched Jeff in the nose, and Jeff grabbed him by the ears and head butted him. Jeff pushed Samuel off of him and both rose to their feet. Kids were screaming and parents were running out of the house. Troy and Keith both pulled guns out of their hoodie pockets.

"No one interrupts or guts will fly!" they said. Samuel pulled a knife on Jeff and stabbed it into his shoulder.

Jeff screamed and fell to his knees. Samuel started kicking him in the face. After three kicks Jeff grabs his foot and twists it, causing Samuel to fall to the ground. Jeff stood up and walked towards the back door. Flake grabbed him.

"Need some help?" He picks Jeff up by the back of the collar and throws him through the patio door. As Jeff tries to stand he is kicked down to the ground. Samuel repeatedly starts kicking Jeff, until he starts to cough up blood.

"Come on Jeff, fight me!" He picks Jeff up and throws him into the kitchen. Samuel sees a bottle of vodka on the counter and smashes the glass over Jeff's head.

"Fight!" He throws Jeff back into the living room.

"Come on Jeff, look at me!" Jeff glances up, his face riddled with blood. "I was the one who got your brother sent to JDC! And now you're just gonna sit here and let him rot in there for a whole year! You should be ashamed!" Jeff starts to get up.

"Oh, finally! you stand and fight!" Jeff is now to his feet, blood and vodka on his face. Once again he gets that strange feeling, the one in which he hasn't felt for a while. "Finally. He's up!" says Samuel as he runs at Jeff. That's when it happens. Something inside Jeff snaps. His psyche is destroyed, all rational thinking is gone, all he can do, is kill. He grabs Samuel and pile drives him to the ground. He gets on top of him and kicks him straight in the heart. The kick causes Randy's heart to stop. As Samuel gasps for breath. Jeff hammers down on him. Punch after punch, blood gushes from Samuel's body, until he takes one final breath, and dies.

Everyone is looking at Jeff now. The parents, the crying kids, even Flake and Euro. Although they easily break from their gaze and point their guns at Jeff. Jeff see's the guns trained on him and runs for the stairs. As he runs Flake and Euro let out fire on him, each shot missing. Jeff runs up the stairs. He hears Flake and Euro follow up behind. As they let out their final rounds of bullets Jeff ducks into the bathroom. He grabs the towel rack and rips it off the wall. Flake and Euro race in, knives ready.

Flake swings his knife at Jeff, who backs away and bangs the towel rack into Flake's face. Flake goes down hard and now all that's left is Euro. He is more agile than Flake though, and ducks when Jeff swings the towel rack. He dropped the knife and grabbed Jeff by the neck. He pushed him into the wall. A thing of bleach fell down on top of him from the top shelf. It burnt both of them and they both started to scream. Jeff wiped his eyes as best as he could. He pulled back the towel rack and swung it straight into Euro's head. As he lay there, bleeding to death, he let out an ominous smile.

"What's so funny?" asked Jeff. Euro pulled out a lighter and switched it on. "What's funny," he said, "Is that you're covered in bleach and alcohol." Jeff's eyes widened as Euro threw the lighter at him. As soon as the flame made contact with him, the flames ignited the alcohol in the vodka. While the alcohol burned him, the bleach bleached his skin. Jeff let out a terrible screech as he caught on fire. He tried to roll out the fire but it was no use, the alcohol had made him a walking inferno. He ran down the hall, and fell down the stairs. Everybody started screaming as they saw Jeff, now a man on fire, drop to the ground, nearly dead. The last thing Jeff saw was his mother and the other parents trying to extinguish the flame. That's when he passed out.

When Jeff woke he had a cast wrapped around his face. He couldn't see anything, but he felt a cast on his shoulder, and stitches all over his body. He tried to stand up, but he realized that there was some tube in his arm, and when he tried to get up it fell out, and a nurse rushed in.

"I don't think you can get out of bed just yet." she said as she put him back in his bed and re-inserted the tube. Jeff sat there, with no vision, no idea of what his surroundings were. Finally, after hours, he heard his mother.

"Honey, are you okay?" she asked. Jeff couldn't answer though, his face was covered, and he was unable to speak. "Oh honey, I have great news. After all the witnesses told the police that Samuel confessed of trying to attack you, they decided to let Bobble go." This made Jeff almost bolt up, stopping halfway, remembering the tube coming out of his arm. "He'll be out by tomorrow, and then you two will be able to be together again."

Jeff's mother hugs Jeff and says her goodbyes. The next couple of weeks were those where Jeff was visited by his family. Then came the day where his bandages were to be removed. His family were all there to see it, what he would look like. As the doctors unwrapped the bandages from Jeff's face everyone was on the edge of their seats. They waited until the last bandage holding the cover over his face was almost removed.

"Let's hope for the best," said the doctor. He quickly pulls the cloth; letting the rest fall from Jeff's face.

Jeff's mother screams at the sight of his face. Bobble and Jeff's dad stare awe-struck at his face.

"What? What happened to my face?" Jeff said. He rushed out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and saw the cause of the distress. His face. It...it's horrible. His lips were burnt to a deep shade of red. His face was turned into a pure white color, and his hair singed from brown to black. He slowly put his hand to his face. It had a sort of leathery feel to it now. He looked back at his family then back at the mirror.

"Jeff," said Bobble, "It's not that bad...."

"Not that bad?" said Jeff," It's perfect!" His family were equally surprised. Jeff started laughing uncontrollably His parents noticed that his left eye and hand were twitching.

"Uh... Jeff, are you okay?"

"Okay? I've never felt more happy! Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaa, look at me. This face goes perfectly with me!" He couldn't stop laughing. He stroked his face feeling it. Looking at it in the mirror. What caused this? Well, you may recall that when Jeff was fighting Samuel something in his mind, his sanity, snapped. Now he was left as a crazy killing machine, that is, his parents didn't know.

"Doctor," said Jeff's mom, "Is my son... alright, you know. In the head?"

"Oh yes, this behavior is typical for patients that have taken very large amounts of pain killers. If his behavior doesn't change in a few weeks, bring him back here, and we'll give him a psychological test."

"Oh thank you doctor." Jeff's mother went over to Jeff." Jeff, sweety. It's time to go."

Jeff looks away from the mirror, his face still formed into a crazy smile. "Kay mommy, ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa!" his mother took him by the shoulder and took him to get his clothes.

"This is what came in," said the lady at the desk. Jeff's mom looked down to see the black dress pants and white hoodie her son wore. Now they were clean of blood and now stitched together. Jeff's mother led him to his room and made him put his clothes on. Then they left, not knowing that this was their final day of life.

Later that night, Jeff's mother woke to a sound coming from the bathroom. It sounded as if someone was crying. She slowly walked over to see what it was. When she looked into the bathroom she saw a horrendous sight. Jeff had taken a knife and carved a smile into his cheeks.

"Jeff, what are you doing?" asked his mother.

Jeff looked over to his mother. "I couldn't keep smiling mommy. It hurt after awhile. Now, I can smile forever. Jeff's mother noticed his eyes, ringed in black.

"Jeff, your eyes!" His eyes were seemingly never closing.

"I couldn't see my face. I got tired and my eyes started to close. I burned out the eyelids so I could forever see myself; my new face." Jeff's mother slowly started to back away, seeing that her son was going insane. "What's wrong mommy? Aren't I beautiful?

"Yes son," she said, "Yes you are. L-let me go get daddy, so he can see your face." She ran into the room and shook Jeff's dad from his sleep. "Honey, get the gun we....." She stopped as she saw Jeff in the doorway, holding a knife.

"Mommy, you lied." That's the last thing they hear as Jeff rushes them with the knife, gutting both of them.

His brother Bobble woke up, startled by some noise. He didn't hear anything else, so he just shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. As he was on the border of slumber, he got the strangest feeling that someone was watching him. He looked up, before Jeff's hand covered his mouth. He slowly raised the knife ready to plunge it into Bobble. Bobble thrashed here and there trying to escape Jeff's grip.

"Shhhhhhh," Jeff said. "Just go to sleep.". A flash if light interrupted Jeff.  He looked behind him.  His smile grew even wider.  He looked behind him to see his newly earned cutie mark.  A knife with blood on it.  He turned back to face his brother, and stabbed him.

The police station was a buzz that afternoon.  Recently, a family was murdered by their own son.  The neighbors heard screaming in the house, and they got worried and contacted the police.  

After a long day, three filies entered.  "What are you guys doing here?" asked Sweetie Belle.

"The police told us that we were supposed to give evidence of the killer to the police.  So here I am.". Apple Bloom told her.

"Me too.  I got this note on my bed this morning." They all examined their notes that they had all recieved.  All of them had they same message.  

"I'm going to have to say no to your offer."

-Jeff.

Sacrifice

The moon hasn’t shined in a while.  Well, not to me anyway.  I don’t really think I deserve that.  Nothing shines.  Not the moon, not the stars, and certainly not the sun.  All I see is just a plain old night.  The only reason I can tell apart the day and the night is because that’s when everyone is active.  I believe that this will last forever.  

I’m getting ahead of myself.  My name’s Applejack.  Quick little imformation about myself:  I'm a tomboy, so I might sound like one.  But deep down inside, I'm a true girl.  Now you may be asking yourself: “Why isn’t anything shining for me?”  Well I can tell you the long version of the short version.  I have plenty o’ time on my hooves, so I guess I’ll give you the long, detailed version.  I’ve been paying more attention to things lately.  It’s become sort of a habit.

Anyway, it began all those years ago.  All of those long, terrible, dark years ago.  When I was eleven years old, my parents had another baby girl.  They named her Apple Bloom.  She was yellow, with some beautiful red hair.  They gave her a bow tie that’s way too big for her.  I never why they gave it to her.

Anyway, when Apple Bloom was born, my parents agreed that it was getting a little cramped in our small house, so they decided to move.  I've lived at that farm since I was born.  It was really hard to say good-bye. One of my most fondest memories of the farm was when I got my cutie mark.  But that's a story for another day.  

We’ve gotten huge success with our apple business, so we had enough money to go ahead and move.  My parents wanted to make our new home look exactly like our old one.  I thought that it would've taken a lot of effort to do that, but they surprised me.  I couldn't tell if we took our own farm and just moved.  We moved a few minutes out of a town called Ponyville.  

Ponyville.  I can remember the first day I went into town.  We just moved in, and my parents asked me to go and buy something to eat for tonight.  I said yes, because I wanted to go check out my new town.  

As soon as I walked passed the first building, I was tackled by a hyper-active, cotton-candy.  

"Hi there.  You're new in town, aren't you?  My name's Pinkie Pie, and I am here to welcome you to Ponyville."

"Why, tha-"  

"Since you're new here, I might as well throw you a 'welcome to ponyville' party."

"Well that seems nice, now if you cou-"

"Hey, do you want me to take you on a tour of Ponyville?"  She smiled.  It was wider than any other smile I've ever seen.

"Not right now.  But uh... could you show me a resteraunt.  I came to town for some food for mah family."

"That would be no trouble at all.  Follow me."  

We did just as she said.  She showed me the place where she worked, and the place where I had my first meal.  The food tasted so grand.  It may have been some plain bread, but it was probably the best bread I've tasted.  

I said yes to the party to PInkie Pie, and she smiled again.  I couldn't help but smile at her.  She was my first friend that I've made in Ponyville.  It was the happiest few days of my life.  They were also secretly the worst days too.

A few days later, Pinkie Pie threw the party for mah family.  Apple Bloom had to stay home, because you know... she was a baby.  Big Macintosh wasn't really the social type, so he stayed inside and babysat.  Pinkie Pie had the party in a clear spot on the farm.  It was a really good spot too.  But it was too close to the farm.  So we had to move it farther, and we eventually had to stop because we were breaching the forest of apple trees.  If only I knew what was hiding behind those trees...

The party was a blast.  I haven't that much fun for a long time.  But that much fun was a lot to handle.  So I decided to go explore the trees a little.  So much time was spent climbinng over fallen limbs and logs, my hooves started to hurt a lot.  I decided to take a break from all the walking and climbing.  I found a decent looking tree to sit under.  I admired the night sky for a while before I heard something.  It wasn't a rustle of bushes, it was some kind of moaning sound.

This scared me.  I don't think that I've been as scared as I was that very moment.  I stood up, and examined the area around me.  It wasn't long before I saw it.  It crouched down right there in front of my eyes.  It seemed about four feet tall from a distance.  It's terrible body... pale, with abnormally long claws.  It was ponylike, but it obviously wasn't.  I stared at it as it did to me.  It's eyes were nothing but bottomless, dark sockets.  After a while of just staring, it started to move towards me.

I ran back towards the area where the party was.  The first people I went to were my parents.  They were convinced that I just saw something in the forest, but I knew it was something else.  This was the thing that would break my sanity.  This was the death of the light.  I'll update when something else happens.

I haven't seen the creature after that night.  I started to believe that my parents were right and that it was just some crazy hallucination.  I still can't sleep at night though.  I knew deep down inside that something was wrong.  Something was always wrong.  

After almost an entire week, I saw the creature again.  My dogs Winona and Jay were barking at something that night.  This was common for them, but it still annoyed us.  I was the one who usually went out and calmed them down, and tonight was no exception.  Winona and Jay were still in their cages when I got there.

"Winona, Jay, calm down."  That's when I saw what they were barking at.

That same creature from that night.  The same dark, empty eyes.  I couldn't just let that thing kill my dogs, so I fended it off.  I ran towards it, and it ran back into the cover of the trees.  I knew that it wasn't safe out there, so I let my two dogs sleep in my room that night.  Truth be told, I needed them to be in my room.  I wanted some kind of protection, some kind of comfort.  They were good enough for both.

After two weeks, that thing started showing up everywhere.  If I was having some kind of conversation with somepony, there it was.  Doing bnothing but standing and staring.  I tried my best to ignore it, but it always found a way to break my concentration.  I never had a full conversation with anypony.  They always either got to freaked out by me or they plain didn't think I was sane.  And they were right.  

Just one full month ago, I found out what I was dealing with.  Apparantly, this thing is called the Rake.  I was walking through Ponyville to get some tools for the farm, when I was stopped by a man.  He looked old, and was very strange looking.

"It's coming for me!  You have to help me!"  He yelled.

"What's coming for you?"

"He is, he is coming for me.  He won't go away, he's always there."

"Who is it?"

"...The Rake."  

I looked at him with a strange look.  But since I thought I was going insane, I gave him a chance.

"Who's the Rake?"  I asked sympathetically.

"The Rake is a terrible creature.  He's pale white, with two long claws.  And the eyes... oh Celestia, those eyes.  Nothing.  There's absolutely nothing in those Celestia awful eyes."

I paused.  "T-the Rake?"

"Yes.  No one believes me, they think I'm crazy."  A tear ran down his face.  "My family..."

"I believe you.  I've seen it too."

"You... you have?"

I swallowed.  "Yes."

His expression changed from sadness to dread.  

"I must go."  He started to trot off.

"Wait!  How do I stop this thing?"  I yelled after him.

"You can't!"

"What do you mean I can't?"

"I can't tell you anything else.  Just remember this: Don't give it to him.  Don't let him have it."  That was the last I ever saw of him.  A couple days after, the police found him dead in his home.  He hung himself.  A note was found in his hand.  It said: I'm free.  

I arrived home late.  I knew for certain that that thing was coming back.  The Rake was coming for me, and I didn't know what to do.  But there was no time for thinking about what to do.  There was a bigger matter at hand.  My dog Jay was dead.

Jay was half eaten right outside the gate.  Somehow he got out, and he was mutilated.  My parents said it was some timber wolves or something, but I know the truth.  I even told them that I knew what it was.  They laughed at me.  They told me that I should probably stop eating so much before getting to bed.  They thought I was crazy.  They thought that I was crazy.  I'm not crazy.  I saw the Rake for myself.  People just don't make those things up, it's impossible.  

I wasn't crazy, and I'm not crazy now.  I'm. Not. Crazy.  I'll update later.


The last week was a whirlwind of terror.  I was constantly in fear.  I felt terrible.  I stayed at home sick while my parents and Big Macintosh started to plant some trees.  I kept a shotgun next to me at all times.  Benefit to living a farm life.  It's loaded in case the Rake decides to come around.  After a while of nothing but terrible silence, I smelt it.  The smell of death.  Rotting.

I got my shotgun and sling it over my body.  I walked carefully up to my room while following the smell.  I grabbed the gun and carefully pointed it in my room.  There it was, crouched over in the corner.  It had a smile on its face.  

I didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.  "GO TO TARTARUS!"  I shot at it, but it dodged the bullet, and knocked that gun out of mah hand.  Then it spoke.  It spoke in a shrill, high voice.  I couldn't understand what it said.

The Rake then jumped out of my window, and I chased after it.  First I grabbed my shotgun and ran after it.  Winona started to follow me, but I sent him back.  It was my job.  I had to end it.  I moved at a pace where it was waiting for me to catch up.  

I eventually cornered in a cave.  It was a small cave, but it looked like it was inhabited.  A few candles illuminated the cave.  It was bright enough in there that I could see the blood splattered wall.  Terrible images were all over the wall.  They were horrible, the kind of stuff I didn't want see.  But that was just the entrance.  I walked into a little room.  The stentch was awful.  Animal parts were scattered around the room.  It was probably it's feeding place.

I turned around, retching, when I saw it again.  The Rake lunged at me, and I blacked out.

I woke up in my room about half an hour later.  It was still dark outside, and my parents weren't home.  I was too afraid to take a step outside.  Paranoia is here to stay.  I though I was going insane.  The Rake was going to kill me, and I knew it.

I finally understood what the Rake said to me.  It said it wanted sacrifce.  It wants sacrifice.  Mom.  Dad.  Mac.  If you here this, then get out.  Get the buck out of here.  I don't care where you go, just go.  


It's done.  I gave him the sacrifice he wanted. He was with me three, three, three nights. He just stands next to my bed, watches me, and sometimes he’ll whisper to me. He told me he wanted sacrifice, bloody sacrifice. He said I had to do it. I knew he was right. They don’t matter to me. I can be alone. My parents thought I was going crazy. Little did they know, haha. So last night, I told him, I told him I’d do it. I’d give him a sacrifice, a good good sacrifice, so he will be happy.

I told them to come with me, I wanted to show them a pretty spot I had found. My parents believed me, and they brought Big Mac too.  The idiots even brought Apple Bloom.  I told them to leave her home, but they brought her anyway.  I thought that there was no use to fight it.  They walked with me, walked to the Rake hole. I opened it up, and pulled out a gun. I told them to go into it. They asked what was I doing, and I told them he wanted to see them. They went in the hole, with Applebloom in my mother's hand, and we walked through the tunnel. My mother and Apple Bloom were crying. Then mr. Rake came out of his hiding place. He looked at me, with his black eyes and smiled. I told him to wait.  He did.

I grabbed Apple Bloom out of my mothers hands.  The bow dropped from her head.  I thought to myself to either grab the bow, or just leave it there.  I thought for a long time before I decided to grab the bow tie.  I looked at my parents for the last time.  And they asked me why.  Why.  Then he killed them. They screamed a little bit. I didn’t care. He was happy now. He pointed at the hole, and I knew it was time to leave.

I’m back home now. All alone, in my dark room. I’m not scared of the dark anymore. I like the dark. It reminds me of my friend the Rake. I’m okay. I’m okay. Dammit I’m not okay. I just led my entire family to their death. I’m crazy.  I wept in my room for a while, with Apple Bloom beside me.  She was crying too.  I heard my door opening.  I looked up, expecting to see the Rake.  Instead, I saw my brother, Big Macintosh.  I thought it was impossible, but there he was.  Thing is, he's not the Big Mac I knew.  It was the Rake.

He thanked me for the sacrifice, and he told me he would be there for me.  He was so happy for the sacrifice, he gave me a wish.  One wish.  I was insane, I told him that I wanted to never see the light of day.  I said that I wouldn't be able to see the sun ever again.  I didn't want to see the stars of moon either.  I didn't want to see anything shine ever again.  He granted the wish.  

Everypony else sees the stars and the sun and the moon, but I don't see anything.  All I see is constant darkness.  Nopony else looks at Big Mac any different.  The Rake replaced my brother like it wasn't any big deal.  But I know what he really is.  He's mr. Rake.  


It's been a long ten years.  Apple Bloom just turned eleven today.  She is a lovely little filly.  But she's a constant reminder of what I did.I still live in this constant darkness, but I've gotten used to it.  I became an Element Bearer.  The Element of Honesty, that's what I am.   Quite often, I wonder why I'm the element of honesty, because I've never told Apple Bloom the truth about mom and dad.  And when I try to, Big Mac looks at me.  Mr. Rake looks at me, with his terrible dark eyes.  

Mom.  Dad.  Big Mac.  I'm sorry.  I am sorry for what I did to you.  Please... please forgive me.  

I found out why they gave Apple Bloom that bow.  It's a reminder.  It's a reminder for mr. Rake that Apple Bloom is his next sacrifice.  Apple Bloom.  I swear on my life, that I will do everything in my power to stop him from taking you.  I swear.

Celestia's Mouth

Arkane Vander looked over the large mountain.  His only thought was exploration.  He looked over to his companion, who slowly hiked up the mountain.  Sisalee was a good hearted pony, but absolutely hated the outdoors.  She was more of an inside pony, but she didn’t mind a camping trip here and there.  The kind of outside she preferred was the crystal empire square.  She was a crystal pony, of course.  Arkane met her when he first went to the empire.  She ran away with him, longing for a new life.  

"This hike is killing me," Sisalee complained.

“Oh, you'll get used to it.”  Arkane smiled down at his companion.  She didn’t smile back.  “Besides, a good hike can always do some good.  It works out those legs.”  He jumped up and down, making a few small rocks fall crumble down the side of the mountain.  

“Would you be more careful!  You can start an avalanche like that.”  

“That’s just an old wives tale,”  Arkane said.  Sisalee glared at him.  “Let’s get on it then, shall we.”  Arkane started to trek up the mountain.  Sisalee groaned.  

After twenty minutes of hiking and whining, they reached their destination.  Celestia’s Mouth.  “Hurry on up here, I found the cave.”  Arkane shouted down to Sisalee.  

“I’m sorry if I’m running a little late, my feet are about to commit suicide,”  she whined.

“Stop whining and get up here.”  She picked up her pace, but only slightly.

“Celestia’s mouth.”  

“I wonder where Celestia’s anus is.”  She chuckled at her own joke.  Arkane just stared at her menacingly.  “Anyway, what are the rumors about this place.”

“Some say that this place is haunted, others say it’s just a normal cave.  What say you?”

“I’ve never heard about it before.”  

"How could you have never heard of it before?  You know, Celestia's mouth, where nopony has come out of."

"Look, I am apart of a civilization that had disappeared, and then reappeared.  It's been a long while, so I haven't heard any kind of myths."

"Oh... right."  He had forgotten about the Crystal Empire.  I guess having an actual crystal pony wasn't enough for him to remember.  "Are you ready?"  

She nodded.  Arkane clapped a friendly hoof on her back.  The inside was not unlike the preview he had glimpsed outside with the light of his horn. Dark, dismal, and endlessly black. It seemed to stretch endlessly, no matter how he positioned his horn. The rocky terrain was damp and imposing. The last natural light slowly disappeared behind Sisalee and him as they made their way deeper and deeper. Arkane found it strange how soft and compelling the world around him now appeared, despite the stalactites, stalagmites, and other various rocky formations being so jagged. It seemed that even amongst the pointed teeth of Celestia, he could lay down and rest there forever. It was comfortable.

Apparently Sisalee didn’t agree. She shivered uncomfortably under his hoof. He raised his eyebrows. “Need your coat?” he asked. Arkane tried to look at her and make non-verbal communication as explicit as possible until he realized that they were lost in the inky blackness of the Mouth. He bit his lip and waited, but she didn’t respond. For a couple minutes they walked in silence. She stopped and stood motionless. He stopped, too.

“Why the hay are we even in here?” she said. She sounded irritated. Arkane shrugged – more to appease himself than her – and made himself illuminate.  Bladed shadows obscured half his face, the other half illuminated in a wretched mask. “Spooky!” he cried, chuckling. She didn’t move.

Arkane sighed. “I thought you wanted to go,” he said.  He noticed how his voice echoed against the cave walls at any volume. “I mean,” he began again, scratching at his chin, “You did say you wanted to go see some nature for our vacation. And you did sound impressed when I told you about my visit to Griffon Caves a couple years back. So…” His voice trailed off.  He could still sense her irritation.

“No,” she said.  Arkane frowned. “No, you wanted to go here. I wanted to go to a beach or something. But no, a cave. A cave, Vander!” She sounded more like a Big Bad Wolf now. “I know that you have this weird fetish for spelunking or something, but I don’t really want to be dragged in to it. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to go on a trip and get into nature and fresh air, but this,” I could hear her arms flail and gesture about in the thick air. “This is cave air, not fresh air. This air is practically fermenting! Plus, isn’t this illegal? Can we please just leave?”

They both stood there. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of magic in the air being stifled and smothered by the damp atmosphere. Finally, Arkane began to walk. He didn’t hear Sisalee follow him, but he kept moving forward. Then, “Vander,” she said, “Stop. Please stop.” So he stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she said. I could hear her moving closer to me. “I’m tired and I’m not used to running and climbing around and the like. I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay,” he said. She got in close to him. “Really. It’s fine.” He shook his head. “Which way is out? I don’t remember.” he could feel Sisalee physically pause. Neither of them could remember. Somehow, in the confusion of the argument, Arkane forgotten which way we had been moving. Idiot, he thought to himself, I should have brought a rope or something to trail from the entrance of the cave. He had to take action, so without much thought, he turned 180 degrees and said, “This way.”

They walked for what seemed to be hours. His hooves were tired and sore, and he could hear Sisalee's groans from behind him. She scooted in close to him. He felt terrible. This was his fault.

Then he froze. “Hey. Hey,” Arkane said, “Put your hoof out. Feel this rock.” he could hear Sisalee's hoof press against the stone. “Isn’t this, like…abnormally warm?” Arkane said. She didn’t say anything. He began to work his way along the wall, feeling it as he went, shining his horn in front of him. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his head as the ceiling of Celestia’s Mouth met with his scalp.

“Ow!” Arkane shouted.

“Oh, Arkane, are you okay?” Sisalee asked. She seemed on the verge of panic now.

“I’m fine,” Arkane said. “Please, calm down. We’ll get out of here soon, I promise.”

He started again, pointing his horn upwards now to see the ceiling above him. It seemed to be getting narrower. That was strange. “Listen, uh, Sisalee,” Arkane said through clenched teeth, “I think we gotta turn around.” Sisalee sighed next to me.

Again, we walked for a decent length. Arkane kept his horn pointed upwards this time. Sure enough, the space in the cave seemed to become smaller and smaller. If there was any resonating light left in Celestia's Mouth aside from his horn, I’m sure Sisalee would have been able to see the whites of his eyes, spreading in panic. They were completely lost.

He seperated from Sisalee and began to feverishly feel his way along the walls. “No, Arkane!” He heard her shout. He kept going. They had to get out. If they were lost, nopony would be able to find them.

I kept feeling along the wall until I abruptly hit a corner. "Buck!" I said aloud. "Sisalee, this seems to be a dead end.” He spun around. “Sisalee?” No answer.

He began to repeat his process again, almost running as he felt the wall run past my hooves. Cool, damp rocks and jagged spears. Suddenly, he found myself at a corner again.  “Sisalee!” He was belting her name out now. In the corner of the cave’s maw where he had been thwarted so many times already, he heard a noise. It sounded like muffled static from a television. He pressed his ear against the rock. It seemed to be getting even warmer now. I heard the faint sounds of Sisalee on the other side of the rock. She was screaming.

“No no no,” Arkane said. “No no no no no.” He began running haphazardly into the walls around him. With dawning realization came a wave of sheer horror. There was no entrance. There was no exit. Only these four corners and him.  Until...

"Sisalee, I found the exit."  The hole where he had come from was found.  He began to race towards it.

He could feel blood begin to trickle from the cut he managed to get by bashing his body into the cave’s walls. They were closing in on him somehow. They were coming in for the kill, and soon they would be pressing in on his skull and crushing his rib cage.  As he got closer to the hole, he hit his head on the ceiling.  His horn came off.  "AAAHH!"  Arkane exclaimed.  He turned around.  He saw his companion racing towards him.  

He almost cried tears of joy, but they turned into tears of sorrow.  The ceiling was collapsing on them, and he couldn't pull her out of there in time.  "Go, get out of here!"  she screamed.  

"I can't just leave you here!"  Arkane yelled back.

"Go!  Just go!  Please!"  Arkane didn't want to argue with her.  He turned around and ran out of the cave.  

When he was out, he saw Sisalee an leg lengths away.  He reached out his hoof.  She grabbed it.  He pulled with all of his strength, but to no avail.  The cave closed on her.  Her hoof was the only thing that got out of the cave.  It was twitching, until a sickening crunch filled Arkane's ears.  Jagged teeth fell like a guillotine on the calf of the hoof.  The hoof was bitten off the rest of the body.  Arkane still held on tight to the hoof.  He stared in disbelief at what used to be a cave.  Now there was jagged teeth blocking the hole.  He watched as Celestia's mouth chewed its latest meal.  And he did nothing to stop it.

The Pony in the Oven

A couple years ago, near the quiet town known as Ponyville, the charred body of a pony who was later confirmed as Mrs. Kate von Pie was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod, pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time.

Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm's well, which had apparently dried up earlier that year.

Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio, police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted a woman recording herself in front of a video camera, seemingly using the same camera that the police found in the kitchen. After positioning the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in its view, she  turned on the oven, opened the door, crawled inside, and then closed the door behind her. After eight minutes into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently. At this point thick, black smoke emanated from it. For the remaining forty-five minutes of video, until the batteries in the camera died, it remained in its stationary position.

To avoid disturbing the local community, the police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well, or why the height and stature of the pony in the video did not come close to matching the body that they had found in the oven.

Gateway to the Mind

After the Fall of Celestia and the Rise of Luna, a team of scientists including Xavier Priston, Char Gen, Twilight Sparkle, and a large amount of other scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility.  Twilight refused to believe that Celestia truly died, so she came up with a way to communicate with her.  The other scientists were apart of the Solar Empire, so they joined Twilight on this experiment.  

They theorized that a pony without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of Celestia.  They believed that the five senses clouded their awareness of eternity, and without them, a pony could actually establish contact with Celestia by thought. An elderly stallion who claimed to have “nothing left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts.

Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn’t even hear. After four days, the stallion claimed to be hearing hushed, unintelligible voices in his head. Assuming it was an onset of psychosis, the scientists paid little attention to the man’s concerns.

Two days later, the man cried that he could hear his dead wife speaking with him, and even more, he could communicate back. The scientists were intrigued, but were not convinced until the subject started naming dead relatives of Char Gen. He repeated personal information to the scientists that only their dead spouses and parents would have known. At this point, a sizable portion of scientists left the study.

After a week of conversing with the deceased through his thoughts, the subject became distressed, saying the voices were overwhelming. In every waking moment, his consciousness was bombarded by hundreds of voices that refused to leave him alone. He frequently threw himself against the wall, trying to elicit a pain response. He begged the scientists for sedatives, so he could escape the voices by sleeping. This tactic worked for three days, until he started having severe night terrors. The subject repeatedly said that he could see and hear the deceased in his dreams.

Only a day later, the subject began to scream and claw at his non-functional eyes, hoping to sense something in the physical world. The hysterical subject now said the voices of the dead were deafening and hostile, speaking of Tartarus and the end of Equestria. At one point, he yelled “No heaven, no forgiveness” for five hours straight. He continually begged to be killed, but Twilight was convinced that he was close to establishing contact with Celestia.

After another day, the subject could no longer form coherent sentences. Seemingly mad, he started to bite off chunks of flesh from his arm. The scientists rushed into the test chamber and restrained him to a table so he could not kill himself. After a few hours of being tied down, the subject halted his struggling and screaming. He stared blankly at the ceiling as teardrops silently streaked across his face. For two weeks, the subject had to be manually rehydrated due to the constant crying. Eventually, he turned his head and, despite his blindness, made focused eye contact with Twilight for the first time in the study.

He whispered “I have spoken with Celestia, and She has abandoned us” and his vital signs stopped.

There was no apparent cause of death.

* follow-up study, 2000: Dr G.F., Department of Neurology, [hospital name withheld], San Francisco, CA. Recent study of a degenerative disease which targets the motor function and cognitive decline often leads to 'hallucinations' of the deceased. The death of targeted cells and chemicals in the brain by this disease leads to a loss of smell, among other senses. The cause of the disease is unknown. Hallucinations present in 39.8% of the patients, falling into three categories: a sensation of a presence (person), a sideways passage (commonly of an animal) or illusions. Present in 25.5% of patients (an isolated occurrence in 14.3%), formed visual hallucinations present in 22.2% (isolated in 9.3%) and auditory hallucinations present in 9.7% (isolated in 2.3%). Continuing study in San Francisco, CA. 2003–present

A Knock at the Window

I thought to myself as I lay in my bed.  That was the best night of my life!  I mentally congratulated myself on my very first date with the girl of my dreams.  Oh Carrot Top.

Carrot Top and I met when I first moved to Ponyville about four years ago.  The first two years, nothing especially exciting ever happened.  A couple holiday events, and that was about it.  We had a little conversation, but I didn't fall in love with her right away.  I fell in love with her on the day of the summer sunrise.  That was the first thing that anything important had ever happened.  It was when Nightmare Moon attacked.  

After the Princess was kidnapped, a lot of the residence was panicking.  Especially Carrot Top.  Each one of the panicking ponies had someone looking over them, but not her.  She was all alone, with no one by her side.  Not even her best friend Derpy was with her.  She was else where.  Just the look of her fear made me die a little inside.  I couldn't bare to see her like that.

I rushed over her to comfort her, to make her feel safe.  After a few words of comfort, she hugged me.  We were nothing but acquaintances before, but I felt something between us that day.  I felt love.  I. Felt. Love.  There was never a time when I ever felt love before.  I never wanted the hug to end, but like every day, it had to come to an end.

After that, we became better friends.  My worst nightmare.  Being "just friends."  

The shear thought of it drove me nuts.  Just thinking about it made my skin crawl.  It got to the point where I had to tell her how I felt.  I poured out my heart and soul that day.  I told her the full, unrehearsed truth to her.  She did nothing but stare at me as I finished.  Her face showed nothing but surprise for a moment or two until I saw a single tear run down her face.  She hugged me, I hugged her back.  Love.  True love.

Later that week, we had our first date.  I would say that things went pretty well.  It occurred to me that I would sleep so well that night.  No regret from the night of the summer sunrise to think about, just sleep.  Peaceful sleep.  I was wrong about that sleep though.  

Apparently, I never realized that my bed was about as comfortable as a rock.  I shifted in my bed, trying to find a comfortable spot.  Different thoughts went through my mind.  They weren't thoughts of what I could have done differently that night, they were thoughts of the dark.  I toss and turn until I finally find that comfortable position.  I close my eyes, but it doesn’t make a difference, it’s too dark in my room to see a thing anyways. I guess it takes time for my eyes to adjust to darkness. I lay there, still and silent on a dark and dank night. My body is relaxed, my mind is blank, and I’m ready for some much needed rest. Instantly, the silence is shattered and my mind fills with fearful thoughts as my startled eyes flash open.

Knock. Knock.

It’s almost undoubtedly the sound of a hoof on glass. But no, it couldn’t be, what would someone’s motivation be to wake someone alone in their home? Think logically. If someone wanted to break in, why would they warn me with a knock? They would just break in, making a loud and obvious noise, or try to be as silent as possible. Why would they knock? Monsters don’t exist. I could give myself some peace of mind and simply look out the window, but I’m facing the other way and I’m too timid to turn my head, afraid of finding my greatest fears standing outside my window. What could it be though? Maybe a couple of birds flew into my window. No, that’s too unrealistic. Could a group of kids be running around late at night, knocking on windows to get a few laughs? It’s a possibility. Come to think of it, maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I heard the usual creak in the house and my paranoid mind has mistaken it for a knock.

Knock. Knock.

Nope, that definitely wasn’t my imagination. Those stupid kids are persistent. They don’t want to quit until they get that reaction. Maybe some sick twisted freak is standing outside waiting for me to look so he can smash through and attack me. No, don’t think that. Don’t get Paranoid. Besides, he’s outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. Monsters don’t exist. Besides, I haven’t moved yet, hopefully those kids will think I’m a heavy sleeper and leave me alone.

Knock Knock.

No, it can’t be kids. No kid would wait around this long just to get a reaction from one guy; they’d just get bored and move along. But, what could it be? Why would a serial killer target me, of all people? Think logically. Monsters don’t exist. Don’t get paranoid. They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. But if it’s not a monster or some sort of killer, what could it be? Just pretend to be asleep and maybe they’ll go away.

Knock. Knock.

Uggghhh. I can’t think of a noise I hate more than that persistent knock! Please go away! Just leave me alone and let me be! There’s no hope. It’s going to get in here and do sick and horrible things to me. Inhale. Take deep breaths. I can feel my heart pound out of my chest. Just relax. Monsters don’t exist. Remember, they’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter I know I’m safe. Repeat that. Don’t let your fear get the best of you. Just pretend to be asleep. Don’t move a muscle.

Knock. Knock.

They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. Monsters don’t exist. Just pretend to be asleep and pray it’ll go away.

Knock. Knock.

They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. Frightful tears begin to drip down my face. Monsters don’t exist. Monsters DO NOT exist. I begin to whisper to myself, “They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe.”

Knock. Knock.

I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE! I’m gonna go mad listening to these knocks! At least if I see what it is I’ll have peace of mind! Take a deep breath. I repeat to myself, one more time, “They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe.” I take a few more breaths, my heart pounding as hard as it’s ever pounded at a mile a minute. I slowly turn my head to face the window. My heart sinks into my chest and I’m too afraid to scream or move. I turned my head to find a pale figure with beady, black eyes staring through me and into my soul as a horrid grin creeps across its face. It was standing inside the whole time, knocking on my window.  

Suddenly, the thing spoke.  It's voice was worse than that of a crying baby.  "You don't get to be happy."

A Choice

After the sound of the bell, all of the fillies and colts ran back into their classes, eager to learn something new.  Everypony ran past a filly without giving her a second glance.  They were running so fast, they didn't bother to pay any attention to her color, or her facial expression.  Her facial expression was that of sadness.  Pure sadness.  

Most know this little filly to be Diamond Tiara.  She was one of those spoiled, rich girls that seem to be everywhere in today's society.  Not your society.  Not that petty little system known as the government.  Not a society that's plagued by war, pollution, distrust, and hate.  I'm talking about a system that has a ruler.  A kind ruler, a gentle ruler.  It's more close to perfection than anything else in your world.  But I'm ahead of myself right now.  We shall return to the subject at hand.  

Diamond Tiara never had a sad face.  Nopony has ever seen someone like her cry.  Most found it surprising.  They thought that Diamond Tiara would've cried whenever her father didn't let her get something she desired, but no.  She's gotten everything she ever wanted.  There was never anything that she didn't recieve from her parents.  They evetually came to the conclusion that Diamond Tiara could never cry no matter what.  But they were wrong.  

You see, when there is so much discord between two ponies, then something happens to one of them.  It could be completely random if both ponies share the same traits, but it's usually the one that is more evil than the other.  The one that shares the attributes to a hero and isn't a complete snob usually gets a much better fate than the other one.  The hero (yeah, the hero, let's go with that.) recieves something he/she always desired.  In this case, Apple Bloom would recieve her cutie mark in defeating a little mutant such as Diamond Tiara.  And that's what happened here.  Apple Bloom finally got her cutie mark.  It depicted a first place medal.  Victory.  As for Diamond Tiara... well, she lost her cutie mark.

Now there's nothing saying that she can't regain her cutie mark, but nopony knew that at the time.  Instead, they assumed that Diamond would never get another cutie mark in her entire life.  They teased her for it.  At first, it seemed like only petty insults were going to be used, but it escalated rather quickly.  Words were said, judgements were made, and pain was inflicted.  

The events that happened at the playground are unimportant, so I'm going to go leave what happened to your imagination.  I'll skip right to the bathroom.  But the first thing that you should know is that Diamond Tiara had a tough life.  Her mother constantly beat her when she was younger, and her father did nothing but stand there and watch her own daughter cry.  A year later, her mother left them both.  Diamond's dad didn't really pay much attention to her after that.  A couple hello's and talks about certain subjects were all she had gotten from him.  She had constantly did things to gain his attention, like bully other ponies, run a school newspaper printing company, or anything else that she could possibly do, but her dad still didn't pay any attention to her.  He would just get drunk whenever his daughter did something bad.  

Right now, Diamond Tiara is sitting in an empty bathroom, and sobbing to herself.  She wiped away the blood from some wounds that some colts gave her with a wet paper towel, and wiped away her own tears.  After everything was cleaned up and thrown away, including her own tiara, she sat on the top of a toilet seat and cried.

Terrible thoughts of suicide raced through her own mind.  'Would anyone even miss me?  Would my father even show up to the funeral?'  She shuttered as the tempature started to drop.  

'What if... what if I take their lives.  What if instead of inflicting pain to me,'  Her voice began to get deeper, like something inside her was dying to come to light.  'I'd inflict pain on them.'  

Happier thougts began to form in her mind when she heard the door to the bathroom open.  Diamond stopped breathing right then.  She thought it was somepony coming in just to go to the bathroom.  A sadistic smile emerged on her face.  This would be her first victim.  

Her smile slowly faded from her face when she noticed that these hoofsteps weren't those of a little filly, they were of a stallion.  She started to cry silently, for her first wish was about to come true.  She kind of wanted to die, but she didn't want to die at the hands of another

The stallion started to walk towards the stall that Diamond Tiara was in, but he gave it a miss.  She made her first mistake by letting out a sigh of relief.  The stallion stopped in his tracks, and began to back track to the occupied stall.  The door opened slowly.  Diamond started to formulate a plan in her head.  

Her plan was to kick the lights of the stallion, then run away.  As the door came to a stop, Diamond abandoned her plan, for she knew that it  would do any good.  She stopped to stare at him.  He was a completely black unicorn.  There was no color to be found on this thing.  He was bald, and his ears seemed to hide perfectly if you looked at him in the correct way.

He didn't seem to have a mouth, but he spoke anyway.  "I understand that you are sad."  His voice was bone-chilling, but soothing at the same time.  It didn't make sense in Diamond's head, but she didn't care.  

"Y-y-yes."  Diamond said.  The stallion wiped away a tear from her face.  "I know what you are going through, believe me I do.  That's why I offer you this choice."  

"A choice?"  The pink filly asked.  

"Yes.  You were already pondering this before I interrupted."  A dark grey light formed around his dark horn, and something appeared right in front of his face.  He let the object fall to the ground.  She stared at it in disbelief.  It was a freshly sharpened knife.  She looked up, but the stallion had disappeared.  After wondering where the man had gone, she heard his voice in her ear.  

"Take the knife.  Take your own life, or take their's."  The voice ceased talking.  Diamond stared at the knife, then picked it up.  "Your choice."

Don't Swim on Sunday's

When I was about six, my family and I used to live outside a little house about forty miles outside of Trottingham.  The house was mediocre, and there was a limited amount of things to do besides play around in the woods by our house.  Inside the house was a decently sized lake which was perfect for swimming.  That's basically what me and my brother did most of the time.  In fact, we did it so much, our mother decided to have towels laid out on the bench outside of the backdoor.  It was a surprise to her the first time because we came in the house dripping wet.  Mother didn't like having her floor all wet.

A regular schedule of this lifestyle kept up for a few months when my grandmother decided to pay us a visit.  My grandmother's name was Granny Smith.  Granny was a wonderful person.  She would always bring us gifts, cook delicious meals, and tell us stories whenever she visited.  Anyway, while me and my brother were goofing around in the lake, our mother called us back to the house.  We found that Granny Smith was here.  It was a pleasant surprise, nonetheless.

After Granny had prepared us a delicious Apple Pie, she sat us down and told us one of her famous stories.  Her stories were usually theories about how things were created, or why things are the way they are now.  For example, she said the reason mosquito's buzz in your ears because they're asking you if you're mad because he stung you, or the reason wolves howl at the moon because the mother of all the wolves lost a bet to a rabbit and was catapulted up there.  She added her own voices to make it sound funnier.  We would laugh our flanks off until we started to cry.

But today's story wasn't like those.  Instead, it was a scary story.  

"There was once a little colt.  He loved to swim as much as you two whipper-snappers.  His mother always warned him not to swim on Sundays, but she never gave him a reason not too.  So, the rebellious young colt decided to swim in the lake just to make her mother mad.  But while he was swimming, a large fish swam up to the boy and swallowed him whole.  Neither the fish or the colt was found.  You see, the fish had magical powers.  It only appears when it's hungry, and when it's Sundays.  Some say that the fish is the devil's pet, but no one knows for sure.  Anyway, when the fish digests its meal, it will return.  This could be a matter of days, weeks, months, or even years."

Looking back, that story wasn't scary at all, but we were kids.  So needless to say, he were completely freaked out.  After that story, we refused to go anywhere near the lake.  This made mom happy because Sundays were supposed to be family days.  

After two months, it all went downhill.  

My father used to smoke in the house a lot.  He especially liked to smoke when he was working on some kind of home improvement project.   One Sunday afternoon he was applying lacquer to the back deck when his cigarette fell out of his mouth and into the pail of flammable liquid.  The pail caught fire, and in doing so, caught the rest of the house on fire.  My father ushered us all out of the house by the time the fire had become out of control.  

As I ran out of the house, my shirt caught fire.  Panic settled in, and I ran towards the lake.  I jumped in, and I heard my brother yelling at me.  "DON'T SWIM ON SUNDAYS!"

That was the last time I saw my family.  

Follow The Leader

There once was a boy named Chatter who loved to meet new kids and play games.  But on September 16, 1988 he got more than he could have ever imagined. It was a normal day and Chatter was sitting on the front steps of his porch. He had seen a colt and two fillies walk by, so Chatter asked them if they wanted to play, and their reaction was naturally yes. Gale, the other boy, said that they should play follow the leader. Luckily, this was Chatter's favorite game. He stepped off his porch and followed the colt, doing several things to mimic his moves, but after a while of playing Chatter noticed that Gale was taking him and the fillies into a forest. Chatter got worried and asked the fillies where they going, they just responded "Follow the leader." After a couple of minutes in the forest Chatter seemed to notice something moving, like the branches on the trees, yet he just ignored it and kept playing.

About ten minutes later Chatter saw the same weird branch movement on several different trees and he was really getting worried. He decided to ask Gale where they were going and he just said "Follow the leader." What does that mean? He assumed Ricky was the leader, but who was really doing the leading? About five minutes later Chatter saw the branches again but this time they looked almost like...a stallion. A stallion wearing a suit. He had weird tangled arms and was super tall. Chatter was frightened by this thought, but he assumed it was just his imagination. They finally made it out of the woods and into a playground that was inhabited by other children. Chatter was relieved and ran over to the slide, he noticed that the other children were walking over to one big oak tree and sitting under it. Chatter didn't mind this at all, he continued to play.

After ten minutes of playing he saw the kids still sitting there, but Chatter had noticed a bare tree seemed to appear in the shadow of the massive oak. Chatter played for another couple of minutes and he saw the tree move towards the kids, he just thought the heat was getting to him. A park employee with a Polaroid camera told Chatter to smile when he was at the top of the slide and as he did the employee snapped the picture and waited for the Polaroid to develop. The employee stamped it with the city's seal and gave it to the boy. Chatter looked at the picture and chills rushed through his whole body.

           He saw the kids sitting next to the tree and the same stallion standing in front of them as he seen in the woods. Chatter turned around to see the kids and the smaller tree missing. He backed up, tripping over a fallen branch. He remembered that there was no tree by the slide. Chatter looked up to see a blank face staring back down at him. He wanted to scream but nothing came out. He tried to run but the stallion's branch-like hoof was grasping his hoof.  There was no escape...

Afterwards his mother came to the park to find her son missing, in his place was this photograph.  

What was most disturbing about the photograph was the fact that the things in the picture weren't ponies.  They were instead horrendous creatures walking on two legs.  The two appendages that were attached to their assumed abdomens had five tiny hoof like appendages on each of them.  And worst of all, there was a taller creature in the background, looking at the creature that looked suspiciously like Chatter.

The Quantum Pony

Aegis Strap, a male pegasus, sat back in the chair after affixing the final electrodes to his skull. He is currently reclined in one of the most expensive private scientific investments in the world, and today was the fruition of his, and many others, efforts. The aim of the project was to open a pony beings mind and allow them to perceive one of the spatial dimensions above the mediocre three.

The actual result was still a point of contestation, but it was suspected that the individual would be able to study all possible universes that could be created from his actions, and then choose the one that he wished to follow. A stallion whose every action would be perfect as he had already witnessed the results.

Strap had jumped at the opportunity, because he was young and headstrong. In his early twenties and brilliant in the field of quantum mechanics, he was relishing the opportunity to apply the usually theoretical aspects of his craft to a physical medium. He gave the salute, which meant he was ready to go, to the techs.  The techs included Char Gen, Xavier Priston, and Twilight Sparkle.  They nodded their heads in approval behind the safety glass, and they activated the first stages of the machine. A microphone in the room relayed his words as the process started.

“If I have seen farther than others, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.” Imitation was the greatest form of flattery, he thought with a grin.

The chair reclined back until it became a flat table, and a large rotating dome lowered down to encompass his entire body. Within the dome, there was a complex crystalline structure lining the inside. He focused on the facets of the crystals, and noticed that they had started to morph, shifting in ways his mind just could not understand. He started to feel light-headed and dizzy.

His sight was suddenly filled with explosions of light, and his body started to spasm. Reading his health signs in the control room, the engineers instantly halted the operation. A medic ran in checked the vitals of Strap, and was pleased to find a weak, yet consistent heartbeat.

        Strap opened his eyes a couple of minutes later. He looked up at the doctor and suddenly jerked up as he realized where he was.

“What happened? I don’t feel any different…..”

The doctor smiled and patted him on the shoulder

“Any landing you can walk away from, right?”

The doctor turned to walk away, caught his ankle on a trailing cable, tripped forwards, and cracked his forehead against the corner of the table. His head twisted to a sickening angle…….

reset

The doctor turned to walk away, caught his ankle on a trailing cable, tripped forwards, and then was grabbed from behind as Strap threw himself from the chair, stopping him inches from the table corner.

Strap collapsed and threw up. His hands shaking, he realized that he had just perceived two universes and had actively chosen the one he wanted. He smiled at the doctor.

“I did it! I can see them …I can see them all……”  Strap’s smile faded.

He now saw two new universes, both the same as far as he was aware. Suddenly, a third, a fourth, a fifth blossomed in his mind. He could suddenly see all of the possibilities that he was capable of, some he didn’t wish to see. His mind began to fracture.

Strap grabbed the doctor.  In an act of unnatural rage, he plunged his hooves into the doctors eyes.  He twisted them around, gouging them out…..

reset

Strap looked despairingly into the eyes of the doctor and started to scream, refusing to stop even when bubbles of blood foamed around the corners of his mouth…..

reset

Strap grabbed the table leg and forcefully headbutted the corner, only achieving his goal of shattering his skull on the fourth strike……..

reset

Strap sat on the floor experiencing all the potential evil that he was physically capable of. His body shook as he was racked sobs of horror. He grabbed the collar of the medic and drew them face to face.

“TOO FAR……TOO FAR……” he screamed

His eyes blurred for a second, then started to turn yellow and shriveled. At the same moment his hair changed to the purest white. Strap in his final moments became aware of a magnitude of universes bearing down on him, and he would have to live through every single one. His grip slipped and his mind was lost to the abyss.

reset

Through the Trees

I wish he would have stayed home, away from this cruel world that we live in.

Dear reader, children shouldn't roam this world alone, but we can't keep them in their nest forever. My son left his room one night from the enchanted chirping outside his window, and I knew what this was, but only from my years of studying this creature. You see there is a monster that wanders around the globe preying on innocent fillies and colts, watching, waiting. I remember fondly, it was September 15, 1983.

That was the year my wife and I escaped the busy world of Manehatten to live our lives in the country, North Dakota. We lived happily there for several years, until I discovered my one true love, studying the Seed Eater.

The Seed Eater is a disturbed bird-pony creature that roams around forests to stalk children, abduct them to be part of the legend. On June 19, 1987 I first saw it sitting in my tree on my front lawn. I was in a daze when I saw it, my destiny beckoned to me, it said "follow it, love it, learn it."

My son made this before the seed eater came.  He had little dreams about him every night, but me and my wife always passed it off as a childish dream.  IT WASN'T A CHILDISH DREAM!

Around the same time two weeks later I awoke to a weird tapping noise on my front window, I knew it was him. I ran out of the house to see it sitting in the tree, just staring into my eyes, I was about to cry from the majesty of it. I remember it telling me that it wanted my help, I would do anything for it.

On April 3, 1988 the Seed Eater came to my window again, I was over joyed. It said it was time, and I remember. You see the Seed Eater devours children to keep itself alive, indulging in their youth to live forever. I remember the colt, ohh what was his name? Oh well it doesn't matter.

I remember going to his house and just simply knocking on the door at 4:29 a.m., but nobody would answer. I saw the bay window, it was the boys room! I went to tell the Seed Eater, lets just call him S/E for now. He told me how to get his attention the next day.

A couple of weeks went by, and the stench of the flesh was getting disgusting. Where is S/E? The parents of the boy put up lost posters last week, I wonder why they didn't worry for the first two weeks? Oh well I'm not concerned.

On May 14, 1988 the boy was nothing but bloated rotting flesh, and the S/E was no where to be found, I guess my services weren't needed.

May 15, 88 he came. He took the body, and requested another.

May 16, 88 six kids killed, six kids devoured, six more requested.

May 18, 88 How Ever, Losing People Makes mE wonder

The killer Monster Seed Eater came tonight, he said kids weren't doing the trick anymore...he wanted something bigger

If your reading this, you may be the only hope to finding out the truth of this thing. In my room there is a journal on page 49 you'll discover how to take the life out of this monster, but he's had me under a tight death grip, I couldn't do it, but maybe you'll have more strength than me.

Goodbye Everypony, I hope being eaten is what I brought onto myself.

The Expressionless

In June 1972, a woman appeared in Fillydelphia hospital in nothing but a white, blood-covered gown. Now this, in itself, should not be too surprising as people often have accidents nearby and come to the nearest hospital for medical attention, but there were two things that caused people who saw her to vomit and flee in terror.

The first being that she wasn't exactly a pony. she resembled something close to a mannequin, but had the dexterity and fluidity of a normal pony being. Her face, was as flawless as a mannequins, devoid of eyebrows and smeared in make-up.

There was a kitten clamped in her jaws so unnaturally tight that no teeth could be seen, and the blood was still squirting out over her gown and onto the floor. She then pulled it out of her mouth, tossed it aside and collapsed.

From the moment she stepped through the entrance to when she was taken to a hospital room and cleaned up before being prepped for sedation, she was completely calm, expressionless and motionless. The doctors thought it best to restrain her until the authorities could arrive and she did not protest. They were unable to get any kind of response from her and most staff members felt too uncomfortable to look directly at her for more than a few seconds.

But the second the staff tried to sedate her, she fought back with extreme force. Two members of staff had to hold her down as her body rose up on the bed with that same, blank expression.

She turned her emotionless eyes towards the male doctor and did something unusual. She smiled.

As she did, the female doctor screamed and let go out of shock. In the woman's mouth were not human teeth, but long, sharp spikes. Too long for her mouth to close fully without causing any damage…

The male doctor stared back at her for a moment before asking "What in the hay are you?"

She cracked her neck down to her shoulder to observe him, still smiling.

There was a long pause, the security had been alerted and could be heard coming down the hallway.

As he heard them approach, she darted forward, sinking her teeth into the front of his throat, ripping out his jugular and letting him fall to the floor, gasping for air as he choked on his own blood.

She stood up and leaned over him, her face coming dangerously close to his as the life faded from his eyes.

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

"I...am....Celestia...."

The doctor's eyes filled with fear as he watched her calmly walk away to greet the security men. His last ever sight would be watching her feast on them one by one.

The female doctor who survived the incident named her "The Expressionless".

There was never a sighting of her again.

Enjoy Your Stay

Hi, name’s Whately—with a dubya.  Welcome to town. How was the train ride? Bumpy, eh? Hope you like it here—the place is brilliant. Fog rolls off the hills in the morning, engulfing the whole place in it. Sometimes the fog clears up by midday, and once it does, you could see Lake Toluca appear. A lot of people love it here. It’s a beautiful place.

What year is it?  Are you crazy, it's 2000.  You know, Princess Luna began her rule around 1000.  Right after Celestia died.  Is it just... amnesia?  Oh it is.  Sorry for doin' that.  

It has lots of bad PR, though, for a Resort Town.  After that whole fiasco with the Element of Laughter cutting people and making cupcakes, this place kind of fell apart.  After that, some people discovered some things about the town.  Apparently, there’s been a history of crazy cults and insane people. There was that tale of a pony murdering her son because of the “People in the Mirrors”.  Then the Element of Honesty started to kill people and make dresses out of them.  Then the Element of Loyalty going insane and killing random people.  There was another tale of a beaten up man wielding a bloodied steel pipe, who apparently blabbered about monsters around town. They found him dead the very next day, beaten to a bloody pulp and practically ripped apart.

Then there was that girl who “died” in the fire. She was taken to Alchemilla Hospital for severe third-degree burns. Hearsay around the town says that the house was set on fire by the girl’s parent. Crazy stuff, huh?

You got a pretty nice jacket there, friend. Cold, huh? Yeah, that’s town. Did you know? I saw a couple another day—a sickly wife and her nice hubby. Guy had the same jacket as that.  Well, not that color—he had it white. There was a peculiar red spot on it though.  He also kept his hood over him.  I couldn't see his face.  He had a rough voice, like he had a cold or something.  I forget his name. J-something.  Ah, I remember.  Jeff.  

Everybody knows everybody here—‘cept for them tourists like you. Though, you are thinking of moving here, right? Yep. Well, you’ll love it here for sure, bubba.

Where are we now? Nathan Avenue. The tourist folks come here through I-90, make use of the town’s pubs, stores, restrooms and the like. I think they leave a part of their hearts here—a happy memory—an’ they come back. Oh, yeah, hope you ain’t tired.  You’d be walkin everywhere. I don't quite know how it was back in Canterlot.  Don’t worry, the scenery will seduce you. Hey! That’s Jim—hey, Jim!

Jimmy mustn’t have heard me. He’s the school custodian. Wonder why he’s in south vale now.

So I have a store near Harris Street—its a little shop called Desired Artifacts. I know, it sounds fancy an’ all. Hey, maybe you could stop by, eh? Ha! Just pulling your leg, friend. It’s a General Store-slash-Pharmacy. So you know where you’d get your pills, eh? Hahaha!

Well, what else is there in a peaceful town like this? Believe it-or-not, we have a Bowling Alley—yeah, Pete’s Bowl-a-Rama. Ah, you bowl, huh? Maybe we could get together sometime an’ play. Sounds like a good idea, eh? Thattacolt.

You probably should bring your bags to your motel room—that’s where you’d be stayin, right? Alright, come with me. Onyx's Inn isn’t too far away.

Just find the check-in counter and I’ll be on my way. I got some errands to do, friend. You could ask Onyx to tour you around if you want, but I suppose you need your rest. You’re from Canterlot, right? The trip must’ve been tartarus on your sleeping habits, with the train ride an’ all. Went there once, an I hurt my flank just sitting in the bus.

Alright, bubba. I’ll be off. Tell Onyx I said hello.

Onyx

Is he gone? Come on, look. Thank Celestia. Things here aren’t what they seem. This place is not your ordinary resort town. Hay no—I can’t even think of what to call it. I haven’t seen another pony in nearly a month. Tell me, what do you see? Just what the hay do you see? It’s not real. None of it. This place has gone to tartarus, friend. Whately is the bucking devil.

I’ll tell you what you see—and you just agree with me. This place is dilapidated, the motel is crumbling. The whole town is dead. You see the fog, do you? Oh Celstia, you do!

I was taken here by the Devil. He damned me to attend to this motel, and killed my wife, just like that. He rules the town, now. Rules whatever’s inside that fog. Whatever it is, it ain’t pony. What? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those things.

He will say that I’ve owned this for thirty years, and he’s right—but I’ve stayed here longer than I feel. I can’t leave, man.

Get me out of the receptionist desk, man. I could get you out of here alive.

Ah. The look on your face tells me you think I’m crazy. I’m telling you, friend, I’m not. Trust me. I think I know how to get out—that thing doesn’t see everything in this town. Do you trust me, friend?

Thank you for freeing me.

Listen I—

Do you hear that?  That thing’s so loud. It’s an Air Raid Siren—like the ones they use for fires. I can’t hear myself think!

Hey…caaan…you…buddy…? Can…you…hear…me…

Whately

I apologize for that. Onyx…Onyx is something. Twenty two years ago, he killed a woman staying in the hotel. He was committed in Brookhaven Hospital. For two decades he stayed in that place, ‘til he was released by the docs. You know why he killed that woman? ‘cuz his MAMA made him do it. I kid you not. Half way through his incarceration, his wife died—from that fire I told you before.

Where are you now? A room in Onyx's inn. I paid with my money. Of course, no one’s attending to the receptionist’s table. Onyx is in the drunk tank in Neely’s Street. I went by with Stash, the town deputy. We saw Onyx caressing you in his arms, blood on your forehead. Blood on his hooves, too. We were afraid you were dead, so Stash took Onyx to the drunk tank, and I checked you if you had a concussion. I feel bad for you now—I hope it doesn’t alter your view on our little town.

Daang, friend, we were terrified. The doc came by afterwards and said you were okay. Phew.

I think you should get some rest. You need it. I’m going by the drunk tank at the sheriff’s office to see Onyx. You should probably join me. We’ll talk this thing straight. I know you want answers, too. ‘Cuz that’s what I want. I’ll be going.

Sleep, buddy, sleep like an angel.

Onyx

The town is starting to change.

"...starting to change..."

"...starting to change..."

I can’t help myself—I can only sit here and rock my body back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Thank Celestia you’re awake. I don’t know what to do. He knows I told you. That’s why you slept. I was taken away, too. He showed me something that I shouldn’t have seen—a nightmare that came from his own mind. I can’t tell you how horrible it was, to have seen it. Wait…wait…wait…wait…

What?

I…forgot what I was saying. What was I saying was I saying something about my wife? I can’t remember. I can’t remember a thing. I can’t remember who I really am, and who are you?

Are you a newcomer?

Are you new?

Are you?

Are you?

Are you new here?

I know it’s coming. I can’t be seen with you! He’s powerful—that demon! It’s him and his laugh. How it echoes in the night. Buck buck buck buck buck...don’t you see—it’s getting darker! It’s all fading into black. No—not fading—it’s all consumed by black.

Can’t you see it? Can’t you?

This town…this town is a gateway to something darker. Don’t you understand it? Don’t you? This is not a biblical or a religious darkness—it’s worse.  Tartarus is not a place in a different plane—Tartarus is here. It’s in our minds.

This town is the gateway to our own minds—our own subconscious. Don’t you understand that?

That’s why I cannot live. I shouldn’t be alive right now. I should be losing my mind. Bring me back to Brookhaven, mama. I can’t live here. I’m too weak.

You! You still have a chance. Get out of this town, while you can, because the Devil is coming after you.

They say he could be very friendly. They say a lot of things about him. Get out of here if you can—get out of here!

I could buy you time, but you have to get out. You have to—

Whately

—step out of the room, first, friend. Dr. Crane’s here to analyze the patient’s mental capacity, but that’s all just formalities. We all know Onyx has gone into some wonderland he made up. The poor stallion. I think he just couldn’t get over losing Gertrude—his wife. Onyx loved that girl, even though she didn’t actually love him back. That Gert…now she might look friendly an’ all, but don’t let that fool you. She was horny as a tartaruscat back in the days. I can’t express how sorry I am to make your first day in our town so horrible. I’m sorry, friend, that this has to happen to you. How can we make it up to you? A free pass to Canon Hotel? I could help with that! How about it, huh?

We can’t let your first day in town be ruined. After all, you’re staying here for a long time, right?

Oh…by the way, I forgot to tell you the name of this cozy little resort town. I don’t know why I didn’t mention it before.

Welcome to the town of Ponyville, friend. I hope you enjoy your stay.

Laughing Jack

It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son, Quaint, was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. Quaint has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly.  He never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination.  I was in the kitchen feeding our dog, Fido, when I heard what sounded like Quaint talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him.

          When I went into the backyard I was a bit confused, because Quaint was the only person back there. Was he talking to himself? I could have sworn I heard another voice. “Quaint! It’s time to come inside.” I called out to him.

He came inside and sat down at the kitchen table, it was about lunchtime so I decided to make him a turkey sandwich. “Quaint, who were you talking to out there?” I asked. Quaint looked up for a moment, “I was playing with my new friend,” he said smiling. I poured him some milk and continued to pry, as any good mother would.

“Does your friend have a name? Why didn’t you ask him to have lunch with us?” I asked.

Quaint stared at me for a moment before replying, “His name is Laughing Jack.” I was a bit taken back by what he had said.

“Oh? That’s a strange name.  I don’t think I’ve heard of a pony with that name.  What does your friend look like?” I asked a bit confused.

“He’s a clown. He has long hair and a big swirly cone nose. He’s got long legs, he walks on his hind legs with his long hooves dragging along.  He also has baggy pants, with stripy socks, and he always smiles.” I realized my son was talking about an imaginary friend. I suppose it is normal for kids his age to have imaginary friends, especially when he has no real kids to play with. It’s probably just a phase.

          The rest of the day went by as per usual, and it was starting to get late so I put Quaint to bed. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss, and made sure to turn on his nightlight before I closed the door. I was pretty tired myself so I decided to go to bed not long after.

I had an awful nightmare…

          It was dark. I was in some kind of run down amusement park. I was scared, running through an endless field of empty tents, broken down rides, and abandoned game huts. The whole place had a horrible look to it. Everything was black and white, the prize stuffed animals all hung from nooses in the game huts, all with sick grins stitched on their faces. It felt like the whole park was looking at me, even though there wasn’t another living thing in sight. Then suddenly, I began to hear music play. The sounds of Pop Goes the Weasel being played on a squeezebox echoed through the park.  It was hypnotizing. I followed its tune to the circus tent almost in a trance, unable to stop my legs from moving forward. It was pitch black, the only light came from a single spotlight shining on the center of the big top. As I walked toward the light the music slowed down, I found myself singing along unable to stop.

“All around the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey thought twas all in fun…”

The music stopped right before its climax, and suddenly the lights shot on. The intensity of the lights was practically blinding, all I could see was a small dark silhouette shuffle towards me. Then another one appeared, and another, and another. There were dozens of them, all coming toward me. I couldn’t move, my legs were frozen, all I could do was watch as the haunting figures drew nearer. As they got closer I could see… THEY WERE CHILDREN!

As I looked at each one I noticed they were all horribly disfigured and mutilated. Some had cuts all over their body, others were severely burnt, and others were missing limbs, even eyes! The children enveloped me, clawing at my flesh, dragging me to the ground, and tearing inside me. As the children tore me apart and I faded away, all I could hear was laughter, horrible, awful, evil, laughter.

          I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. After taking a few deep breaths I looked over and saw that a few of Quaint’s action figures were positioned facing me on top of my nightstand.

I sighed. Quaint had probably woken up early and put these here. I gathered up the toys and made my way to Quaint’s room, however when I opened the door, Quaint was sound asleep. I just shrugged and placed the toys back into his toy box, and headed out to the living room. A little while later, Quaint woke up and I made him his breakfast.

He was quiet and seemed a bit groggy, perhaps he didn’t sleep well either. I decided to ask him about the toys, “Quaint honey, did you put the toys in mommy’s room this morning?”

His eyes shot up at me for a moment then quickly glanced back down at his cereal. “Laughing Jack did it.”

I rolled my eyes and responded. “Well you tell ‘Laughing Jack’ to keep the toys in your room,” Quaint nodded and finished up his breakfast, then decided to go play out in the back yard.

           I went to relax in the living room and I must have dozed off, because I woke up a couple hours later. “Buck! I need to check on Quaint.”

I was a bit worried, it had been over two hours and I haven’t checked on him. I went stepped out into the backyard, but Quaint wasn’t there anymore. I was getting nervous so I called out to him, “Quaint! Quaint, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Just then I heard a giggle come from the front yard. I rushed through the gate around to the front of the house. Quaint was sitting on the sidewalk. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to him, “Quaint how many times have I told you to stay in the backya… Quaint, what are you eating?”

James looked up at me then reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand full of hard candies in all colors. This made me very nervous, “Quaint, who gave you that candy?” Quaint just stared at me not speaking. “Quaint! Please, tell mommy where you got that candy.  Didn’t Cheerilee teach you not to take candy from strangers?”

Quaint hung his head down and said “A stranger didn’t give it to me, Laughing Jack did.”

My heart sunk, I kneeled down to look him in the eye, “James I’ve had had enough of this Laughing Jack thing, HE IS NOT REAL! Now this is a very serious situation and I need to know who gave you the candy!” I could see my son’s eyes tear up,

“But mama, Laughing Jack DID give me the candy.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, Quaint has never lied to me but what he’s telling me is impossible. I make him spit out the candy and I throw the rest away.  Quaint appeared to be fine. Maybe I’m just overreacting after all he could have gotten it from Ditsy and Carrot Top from next door, or Lyra down the street. Either way I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on Quaint.

That night I put Quaint to bed as usual, and decided to go to bed early myself.

         Suddenly I was woken up by a loud bang coming from the kitchen. I sprung out of bed and hurried down the stairs. When I got to the kitchen I was horrified. Everything on the counters had been thrown on the floor, and our dog Fido hung dead from the light fixture. His stomach was cut open and stuffed with candy, the same type that Quaint was eating earlier that day. My shock was quickly broken by a sharp scream coming from Quaint’s room followed by loud crashes.

I quickly got a knife from the drawer, using my magic, and moved up the stairs with the speed that only a mother whose child is in danger could have. I burst through the door and flicked on the lights. Everything in the room was knocked over and tossed on the floor, my poor son in his bed crying and shaking with fear, a pool of urine staining the sheets.

I scooped my child up and ran out of the house and went next door to Ditsy and Carrot Top’s house, Luckily they were still awake. They let me use their phone and I called the police. It didn’t take them long to arrive, and I explained what had happened, they looked at me as if I were crazy. They searched the house, but all they found was a dead dog and 2 trashed rooms. The officer told me that someone had probably gotten into the house and done this right before making a quick escape when they heard me coming up the stairs. I knew it wasn’t true. All the doors were locked and none of the windows were open, whatever was in my house didn’t come from outside.

          The next day Quaint stayed inside, I didn’t want him to leave my sight. I went into the garage and found his old baby monitor and set it up in his room, if anything comes into his room tonight, I was going to be able to hear it. I went to the kitchen and got the largest knife from the drawer and put it on my nightstand. Imaginary friend or not, I’m not letting anything hurt my little boy.

          Soon enough night came. I put Quaint to bed, he was afraid, but I promised him that I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss, and turned on the night light. Before closing the door I whispered to him “Goodnight Quaint, I love you.”

I tried to stay up as long as I could, but after a few hours I felt myself drifting off. My baby would be safe for the night and I needed to sleep. Just as I lay my head on the pillow I heard a soft noise come from the baby monitor I had put on my nightstand. At first it sounded like interference, like the kind a radio would make. Then it turned into a soft moan. Was Quaint asleep? Then I heard it, the laugh from my nightmare, that horrible laugh. I sprung up from bed and grabbed the knife from under my pillow. I rushed over to Quaint’s room and creaked the door open. I tried the light switch but it wouldn’t come on. I took a step in and I could feel the warm thick liquid on my feet. Suddenly James’ night light came on and I could see the absolute horror laid out in front of me.

          Quaint’s body was nailed up on the wall, the nails piercing through his hooves. His chest was cut wide open and his organs hung down to the floor. His eyes and tongue had been removed along with most of his teeth. I was disgusted, I could hardly believe this was my baby boy. Then I heard it again, the soft desperate moan. QUAINT WAS STILL ALIVE! My baby, my poor baby, in so much pain barely clinging to life. I ran across the room and vomited on the floor, but my sickness was interrupted by a horrible cackle coming from behind me. I spun around while still wiping bile from my mouth, when out of the shadows emerged the fiend responsible for all this horror, Laughing Jack.

           His ghost white skin and matted black hair hung down to his shoulders. He had piercing white eyes surrounded by dark black rings. His twisted smile revealed a row of sharp jagged teeth, and his skin didn’t look like skin at all, it almost looked like rubber or plastic. He wore a patchy, black and white clown outfit with striped sleeved and socks. His body itself was grotesque.  He stood on his hind legs, with his front legs hanging down past his waist and the way he was poised made him look almost boneless, like a ragdoll. He let out a sickening laugh as if to let me know he was pleased with my reaction to his ‘work’.

He then turned around slowly in front of Quaint and began to laugh even more at the horrific sight he has laid out. That was enough to shake me from my terror, I snapped, “GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU BASTARD!” I rushed at the monster raising the knife above my head, and stabbed down at him, but as soon as the knife touched him he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The knife passed right through and pierced Quaint's still beating heart, splashing the warm blood on my face….

          No… what have I done? My baby, I killed my baby! I immediately fell to my knees, and I could hear sirens in the distance growing louder… My boy, my sweet baby boy… I promised mommy would protect you… But I failed… I’m sorry Quaint… I’m so sorry…

          Police soon arrived to find me in front of my son, still wielding the knife covered in my baby’s blood. The trial was short, insanity. I was placed in the Ponyville House for the Criminally Insane, where I have been for the past 2 months. Its not so bad here, the only reason I’m awake now is because someone is playing Pop Goes the Weasel outside my window… Ill talk to the orderlies about it in the morning

White With Red

Not long ago, a stallion went to the Ponyville hotel.  He claimed that he was in Ponyville for a couple days on business. He trotted over to the front desk to check in. The mare at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. She explained that it was a storeroom, and that it was out of bounds.

She reminded him of this several times before allowing him upstairs. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

The first night, he was unable to sleep, due to a quiet, but repetive breathing sound.  He thought himself crazy, but he could have swore it came from the next room.  He disreguarded the warnings the mare gave him, and went to check out the room.  He went up to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye.

What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was incredibly pale. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. Was this a celebrity? The owners daughter?

He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. As he was still looking, the woman turned sharply and he jumped back from the door, hoping she would not suspect he had been spying on her. He crept away from the door and trotted back to his room.

The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red. He felt embarrassed that he had made the woman so uncomfortable, and hoped she had not made a complaint with the woman on the front desk.

At this point he decided to consult the mare at the front desk for more information. After some gentle quizzing and the promise that the explanation would go no further than him she finally said "Well, I might as well tell you the story of what happened in that room. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in there, we find that even now, people get uncomfortable staying there. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over.  Nopony knew why."

"But after this man killed his wife, he did something unthinkable.  He cut out her eyeballs, and left her there with nothing but blood red sockets."

BOB

Char Gen woke up with a start.  He knew what had happened and his heart sunk.  The sound of the glass shattering downstairs had done the same to his nerves.  It had come in.  After weeks of watching and stalking him, the creature had finally decided to break in. The patio doors, made completely of glass, provided it with the perfect entrance.

Char laid there in bed, in the blackness only illuminated by the small amount of clear light that the moon provided through the space between the curtains.  He listened for The Creature, listened to see if it was inside, secretly praying that everything would be silent.  The terrifying cracking of glass under its feet confirmed his worst fear, it had finally made its way into his home.

With this crushing realisation, Char, now shaking, grabbed his sword and crept downstairs deeper into the darkness, determined to confront this thing once and for all, secretly hoping though, that it would run away when it saw him as it normally did.  Char stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening. At first all he heard was the cracking of glass under The Creatures feet, then, for the first time, Char heard The Creature, breathing heavily as if its throat was blocked by phlegm.  The hideous creature snarled and clicked, gradually getting closer to Char.

Now out of the kitchen, the creature was finally off of the glass. It walked almost silently now, strangely more agile than it looked, especially considering how clumsily it ran away.  Char realised what he had to do. He grasped his weapon tighter and... Froze, unable to move. He knew he needed to attack it but he just couldn't. Its teeth, its eyes, its skin. Pony, but not quite. The Creature was in the living room now and edging closer by the second yet Char was still too terrified to move, even if it didn't have front legs, this Creature was the embodiment of terror to Char.

Char stood at the bottom of the stairs, shaking. He heard The Creature getting ever closer, the sickening sound of its distorted breathing amplified by the almost pitch darkness. The Creature was nearly at Char, he had one chance to kill it and he wasn't going to waste it.

The Creature stepped into the doorway to the stairs, Char was hidden just to the left.  He swung his sword at fall force, hitting The Creature in the neck with it.  The sword stuck to it.  The Creature staggered back, then stopped and looked at Andrew, its tiny wild eyes staring into Chars soul.  It lifted its right hind leg.  Its balance was nothing Char had ever seen before.  It stood on its right hind leg, as The Creature's leg seemed to extend.  It grabbed to sword from its neck, and pulled it out.  Char felt a deep fear of The Creature unlike anything he had ever experienced.  It tossed the sword away.  The Creature then let out a gurgled hiss at Char, baring all of its sickening deformed teeth in the process.

The Creature kicked Char in the face.  Char fell to the floor in pain.  Char rolled onto his back and scuffled up against the wall just behind him. The Creature watched him until he reached the wall, at which point it walked towards him and looked down at Char as if it were judging him, lying there, helpless. The Creature stamped on his leg, snapping the bone. Tears began to stream from Char eyes, the pain so intense Char thought he was going to vomit.

Char, now incapacitated, had nowhere to go and no way to fight. The Creature placed its foot on Chars head, pressing down, ripping into his flesh with its long dirty toenails. With The Creature's foot now completely inside his head, Chars lifeless body fell to the ground. The last of his tears fell streamed down his face, and then he passed away. The Creature loomed over what was by now his bloody corpse. The creature descended its face toward Chars broken body and then tore away a bloody piece of flesh from Chars chin, dislocating one side of his jaw in the process. The creature continued to tear and eviscerate Char's corpse until everything the creature could stomach had been devoured. The Creature then left... Calmly. Silently. With a pure and deep hatred in its heart. The Creature left, the same way it came in, through the broken patio doors...

Several weeks afterwards, Chars best friend, Xavier Priston came to check up on him.  He hadn't answered any of his letters, and he began to grow worried.  

What Xavier saw was terrifying.  Chars body was destroyed, and devoured.  Nothing was left but some muscles, along with his skeleton.  Xavier immediantly went to the police station, and told them about what he found.  They came back to the house, and found Char's skeleton.  

The police labeled it as a animal attack.  Maybe some timberwolves had broken into his house.  They were wrong, and Xavier knew this.  He had created it with Char.  

But why did The Creature kill every other scientist except for Char and himself?  If it killed the others, why didn't it kill them.  Xavier didn't know this, but the answer is simple.  It's angry.

Am I Beautiful

I returned to my suite in the Canterlot castle just a few hours ago.  Nothing was out of the ordinary, everything was where it should be.  I have a minor case of OCD, so it wasn't long until I noticed the slip of paper on my bed.  

I was a little freaked out, because somepony broke into my room.  But then I took a look at the note.  It was from my coltfriend, Flash Sentry.  I remembered that I gave him a key.  

I chuckled, thinking that this was some kind of love letter that he made for me.  He truly was a keeper.  

I put all my stuff away, then I started to read the the letter.  

Twilight,

It's me, Flash Sentry.  I'm writing this because I fear that this may be my only chance to say good-bye-

I stopped reading the letter.  "Good-bye?"  My confused mind raced like a Wonder Boltz race.  I continued reading the letter.  

-to you.  My life is in great danger, and I feel that there is no way to prevent it.  By the time you read this, I'll be long dead.  So there's not much that I can do but tell you these things.  First:  I love you Twilight.  I loved you ever since I laid my eyes on you.  Out of every mare I've ever met, you are by far the most intelligent and beautiful.  Which is why it pains me to say good-bye.  

The second thing is how I passed.  It wasn't very long ago, maybe a half an hour ago.  Anyways, I was returning to my home from my duties when I saw somepony sitting on a bench.  She looked saddened, so I asked her if she was alright.  She didn't say anything for a while.  When I was about to leave, she grabbed my hind leg.  Then she asked... do you think I'm beautiful?  To which I responded yes.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't really think she was beautiful, I was just trying to be nice.  And plus, my heart belongs to you.  She was wearing this surgical mask around her mouth, her mane was black, and her body was yellow.  She looked Japonyese.  

When I said yes, her ears perked up, and she looked happy that I said yes.  I smiled, making both myself and her feel good inside.  She took off the surgical mask, and my smile faded.  She was smiling, but she was being forced to.  She had a slashed face, like a sword cut right through her face.  It was made into a horrible, ear to ear, grin.  She then asked: How about now?

I wanted to run away, but she grabbed hold of my hoof, and persisted asking.  I then did the first thing that came to my mind.  I asked her if I was beautiful.  

I thought it would do nothing be delay my death, but she let go of my hoof.  She began to ponder my question by staring at me.  I started to back away, then turned around and started running for my life.  But oh Celestia, she was fast.  I managed to trick her by running to a tree, and turning right before I made contact with it.  She hit her head on the tree hard.  She collapsed, seemingly lifeless.  I checked to see if she was dead, but she was still breathing.  I only made her angrier.

So I ran home.  Now I'm here, writing this letter, in fear that she may come for me really soon.  I'm sorry Twilight, but I'm going to die.  I can't do anything about it but try to fight back.  What does she have against a Royal Guard?  Now that I think about it, I can easily beat her.  But I can't let my guard down.  And plus, how do I even know she's coming for me?  Look, when you read this, come to my place.  I'm pretty sure that I'm still alive and well.  

Sincerely,

       Flash Sentry

You could say that I was really confused by then.  How did he find the time to put this in my room?  If he went outside to deliver this to my room, wouldn't he have had an encounter with her?  That's when I decided to go clear it up with him.  I folded up the letter, and put it back in its envelope.  

The walk over to his house was fairly quick.  I knocked on his door, and it opened up.  But Flash wasn't there.  Nopony was.  I walked in, thinking that Flash was playing some kind of prank on me.  I admired many trophies that he had earned, and pictures of him and his family.  Apparently, he has two younger siblings.  How swell.

I reached his room, and nearly had a heart attack.  There, lying in his bed, was Flash Sentry with scissors in his eye socket.  His mouth was cut into a grin, blood dripping down onto his bed.  

My initial shock quickly turned into fear and sadness.  I ran to him, but I could do nothing.  I tried healing spell after healing spell, but nothing worked.  My magic was gone by the time I gave up.  I cried over his dead body for what seemed like years, hoping that this was just a cruel joke, I started to hit him, to try and jar him awake, but he didn't even move.  I hugged his lifeless body, still crying.  I kissed his horrifying mouth.  There was nothing I could do, but sit there and sob.

I lied next to him on his bed.  My eyes closed, I tried to drift to sleep.  I hoped that I would wake up next to Flash in the morning, and he was still alive.  

A few hours into my sleep, I heard a voice.  My eyes opened, and I looked where the voice was coming from.  I saw a mare wearing a surgical mask.  "Am I beautiful?"

Tick Tock

For the love of Celestia, make the terrible sound go away!

I sit here, in constant fear for what is about to happen.  There is no sound that accompanies me, but that... noise.  

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

Never ending, and seemingly never going to stop until it gets to me.  

My name is Leith Trail.  I've lived in Ponyville my entire life, and I have never seen anything like this happen to anypony.  

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

I got sick of my life just sitting around and working, so I decided to go for a little hike.  I found this hiking place that somepony called Little Dam.  It was not only a hiking place, but it was also a fishing hot-spot, a camp place, and a great place for people to hang out.  

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

But the place was a ways away.  I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to brave the journey.  And boy was it worth it.  Little Dam was on the out-skirts of a small town called Ponyguitch.  It was a great place.  Friendly people, great places to eat, and a great tourist attraction.  For such a small town, it's done good for itself.

Tick... tock... tick... tock.  

By the looks of it, I would definitely say it's better than Ponyville.  That's right, I just said that Ponyville was nothing compared to Ponyguitch.  Well that's just my opinion.

...

I-I'm not hearing anything.  I wonder if it's go-

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

Nevermind.

Anyway, let's continue.  I was just getting some supplies from a local store, and I asked about Little Dam.  

"Little Dam?  That place is great.  We have so many wonderful memories up there.  Didn't we Scout?"  The store owner asked her employee.  Maybe it was her husband.

"That we did Gleaming.  That we did."  

"And don't let Tick Tock get you!"  Gleaming said.  The two let out hardy laughs.  I was about to ask, but I was holding up a line behind me, so I thought I would ask about Tick Tock.  

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

I don't know what I did to set it off, it just came after me.  The thing that I saw up there will never be compared to anything else.  It's truly the embodiment of fear.  

Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock...

It quickened its pace.  I have to hurry.

I was just sitting around a little fire I made for myself, when I heard this clock noise.  I shrugged it off, thinking that it was just the river behind me.  I was just thinking about some things when I saw it.  A green figure off to my right, just standing there.  

Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.

I have the shot gu-

It did not look like a pony, but more like a human.  I knew what a human was because of my marefriend Lyra.  She had an obsession with those things.  But I passed it off as some silly obsession.  Love is blind, I guess.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock... *tap... tap... tap*

It's sitting outside, pacing back and forth.  Tapping on my window occasionally.  It's up to my he-

It was ghost-like, and green.  It wore what I assume was soldiers clothing.  It was torn and ripped.  The thing had long, grey hair, a long grey beard, and very long finger nails.  It stared down at the ground.  And it had no legs.  Nothing was there but some dripping intestines.  They looked fresh.  

Neither me or the creature did anything, but sit.  I was confused, but the ghost like entity wasn't at all.  

Tick tock... tick tock... *tap... tap... tap*

WILL IT NOT GO AWAY

The thing started to float towards me.  It's finger nails streaking across the ground, making the sound of a clock.  Slowly, it made its way towards me.  I started to get up and back away, but the thing's pace just became faster, and faster.  

Tick tock... tick tock... tick tock...

It's head was still looking at the ground, but it knew exactly where I was moving, and what direction I was running.  The sound of the clock became even faster than it was.  Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.

I want it all to e-

The sound won't go away!  IT BUCKING WON'T GO AWAY!  I want it all to end, I want it all to end!  IT WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!  I have a gun to my head, and I will pull the trigger!  I just want the sound to stop!

I made a run for it, but the creature grabbed my body, and dragged me towards it.  It held me up close, tightening its grasp.  It lifted its head.  Its face was badly scarred.  It had bloody holes in it's cheeks, shrapnel stuck it it's dark eyes, and no mouth.  Instead, there was stiches that made a smile.  It's face looked like it was made of cloth.  

*CRASH*  Tick tock... tick tock...

It's in my house.  It's my bucking house, oh Celestia.  I don't know what's going to kill me first, me shooting myself or Tick Tock killing me.  That damn noise will not stop!

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

I managed to escape the monster by bucking it in the face.  Then I ran.  I left everything I had back at the tent, and I just ran.  I ran right out of the Celestia damned town, and ran all the way back here.  I got home, and that's where I am now!  Right.  Bucking.  Here.

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

THAT'S BUCKING IT!  I'VE HAD ENOUGH!

I pull the shotgun away from my head and aim straight at the creature.  "COME AT ME YOU BA-"

Ponyville Newspaper Excerpt

*The confirmed body of Leith Trail was found in his home a two p.m. by Lyra Heartstrings.  Lyra explains what she found in the house.

        I was checking up on my coltfriend because I heard him yelling.  I walked inside... and I saw his dead body sprawled out on his couch.  His jaw was ripped off, a chunk of his head was gone, long... scratch marks on his legs...

That was all Lyra told us.  He was also found with his entrails sprawled all around the house, his chest ripped open, his head split in half, and his eyes scratched out.

Nopony knows if this was an animal attack or the works of a new serial killer.  If you see any suspicious ponies, please contact your local police station.*

The Dating Game

I had been single for a while.  In fact, I was single for my entire life.  Woman seem to evaporate away from me if I try to talk to them.  I'm sick of it.  I'm sick of working at Sugar Cube Corner, with that pink mare who friendzoned me the first time we met, I'm tired of living in a studio apartment, and I was sick of living with a stupid smarty pants doll.  It was the only company I have.  (It's a long story, don't ask.)

Anyway, I hated living that way.  I wanted a wife, I wanted kids, and I want a better job.  There's nothing wrong with working at Sugar Cube Corner, it's just that I want something better.  I think I deserve better.  

So I took the biggest leap of faith I've ever done, and I decided to go to one of those speed dating events.  And guess where it was held.  Sugar Cube Corner.  Fantastic.  This was the only chance of getting a marefriend, so I grabbed my fanciest clothes, and headed out.  

I walked in the doors, trying to display the shred of confidence I had left.  I was instantly discouraged when I saw all the other competing males and their Armani suits, high class cider in hand, and auras reeking of nothing but pure self esteem and conceit. The ladies there were dressed in fine dresses, some of them quite low cut, and smelled like a flower garden designed by Martha Stuart herself. There were some serious lookers in there, none of which would bother even looking at me.

The speed dating started. The first girl I sat down with was quite young; a twenty-two year old mother of two. She had made a lot of mistakes in her life, and seemed far more than I could handle. Right off the bat she told me about how she was four days sober from methamphetamine and was looking to settle down with a nice man who didn't look like a walrus. I spent the next four minutes making general small talk, quite literally fearing for my life. Once that buzzer sounded, I rocketed out of my chair with the speed of a gazelle. The young woman seemed offended. But honestly, what did she expect?

The next woman was way too old for me. I had thought that these events were age regulated and had different meetings for people in different stages of life. My decision was finalized as soon as she brought up her grandkids (One of which was actually here tonight); I can hardly handle one generation of young ones, much less two. I actually asked her if she needed help getting out of her chair after the buzzer sounded... Again, another dark look. I was batting 0 for 2, but such pitches were ones that I would gladly let the catcher have.

The next woman seemed much more appealing. She was 26 and training to become a Wonderbolt. She loved kids but had none of her own, which was a relief to me. She seemed well kept and stable, and wasn't a bad looker either. No lie, my eyes did wander a bit south a couple times during the meeting. She either didn't notice or didn't care, as she never pointed it out. I asked her if she'd like my address as the session ended, and she consented. I grabbed a quill and partchment and wrote down her address as she read it out. Smiling at her and thanking her for her listening ear (no wonder I had been single for so long...) , I got up to the next table. While doing so, I put in my pocket, mistook it for a tissue, and blew my nose in it. It was lost forever. For the love of... 0 for 3.

The next table was empty. What a joke. If I wanted to sit and stare at a wall, I would have stayed home. Nothing really to say here. Moving on.

The woman I met at the next table was the most interesting of all, but not in a bad way. She had long, flowing dark hair, green eyes, and a yellow. She had this cute smile and man, what a tight body on this one. Black dress, black shoes, black everything. For someone dressed in such a gothic manner, she had such a bubbly personality. Everything I said made her giggle, and I felt like a king just talking to this girl.

She was 27 and currently unemployed. She was married to a husband before, but he had left her after their two children died of leukemia. She told me that the cancer was entwined with her lineage, dating back as far as the eighteenth century; therefore, in numerous fits of emotional rage, her ex husband blamed her for giving the children cancer and left. Too pained by the loss of her entire family, she moved to the city a few weeks ago and was living on unemployment, unable to continue working at her job due to the crippling depression and panic she suffered as a result of her abandonment.

Despite the torment in her life, she never seemed depressed about it. Either she was incredibly optimistic about life or she was one of the best actors I had ever seen; either way, I was willing to take a shot. I asked her if she'd like my address. It turned out that she had some bad meetings at this particular convention herself, and wanted to take off to do something more fun. She tossed me an invite and, seeing as I was a lonely 32 year old man, she didn't have to ask twice.

I never understood what she saw in me over all the other guys. I was beaten and broken with no aspirations to better my current situation. Maybe she understood how I felt, considering all the pain she felt herself, and decided to get to know who I really was under this cocoon of emotionless insecurity. I sensed a thread of compassion intertwined between all that stress and trauma, willing to lend an ear to anyone that felt the same pain as her. I was truly transfixed by her presence, drawn to her character. I had never felt like this before.

We decided to go to a pool hall. Apparently she used to be a regular at another pool hall by her old house, winning local tournaments and making a name for herself, and she wanted to check out the scenery here. I wasn't too shabby at the table game myself, so I was excited. Every shot she made was perfect; the balls just sank into the pockets like each pocket was a black hole just waiting for something to trespass into its field. Out of the seventeen games we played, I think I made around twenty-three shots. She just kept running the table. It was funny, because she kept apologizing for being so good. I waived the apology and complimented her on her skill, causing her to giggle more. Every time she laughed, I fell harder and harder. And, to be honest, I was always excited when the cue ball landed on my side of the table. You know, 'cause she bent over to take her shots, as many pros do. Heh.

We left after that. She said she had to get home as she had some errands to run, being new in the neighborhood and all. I agreed, since I had a facebook application that I had to update (obviously I didn't give her that reason. Celestia, what the hay is wrong with me? Passing up an amazing girl for facebook? Egh...), so we exchanged numbers and parted ways. I couldn't believe it, I had actually scored a beautiful woman. Hay yeah.

Weeks and months passed on.  We continued talking, and began regularly dating.  The relationship moved pretty quickly and it seemed we were truly matched for each other. After about seven months of dating, I asked her to marry me. I popped the question on the seventeenth, as that's how many games we played on our first date. She found that so romantic and flew into my arms, screaming yes to the skies. Things were finally looking up.

I moved out of my apartment and into her home. I always admired the cozy feel of her two bedroom ranch house. Something perfect to start a family in. As I was moving my final things in, I noticed how much of a mess I was making, with my boxes of stuff and all. I apologized and motioned to the basement to finish moving my things. Her face instantly darted to mine. In a hurried and almost frantic voice, she assured me that she'd take care of the rest of my things and that I should relax. It was a bit odd, sure, but she had been through so much excruciating sadness throughout her life that her having a psychiatric illness is something I expected. I complied to her request.

The next few months were great. We never got tired of each other, and, on our wedding day, the kiss we shared on that alter was so special that I firmly believe angels surrounded us and serenaded us with harps and trumpets as our lips connected and sparked so brightly that the entire room was illuminated. I'll leave out the details of the honeymoon as this is not a pornographic piece. She was always leery of me approaching the unforbiding basement, sometimes to the point of arguing with me about it, but, aside from that, I didn't see any fault in her.

Until everything I knew about life was shattered.

One day, she told me she was going to the grocery store. I noted that I wanted some apples in order to make apple pie for dinner. She smiled at me with that cute, adorable smile I have grown to know and love and headed out.  After moving on from the bakery, I got a job at a fast food joint that they made some time after our honey moon.  And after climbing corporate ladder, I had finally attained the position of regional financial manager for the entire state. I was working on some budget information, assessing the costs of all the franchises across the state. It was a long and arduous process, but I was getting just above six figures for it, so I wasn't complaining. After each report was fully completed and evaluated, I moved the paperwork to writing them down.  To my horror, with only three reports left to finish, I ran out of ink.  I rushed down to the quill and parchment store, just to find out that they were out.  Surprise surprise.  If I didn't finish these reports, I would surely lose my job.

I rummaged through the house to find something to finish these reports with to no avail. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I took the daring risk of approaching the basement. The handle was unusually cold and the door was locked. Frustrated and defeated, I slumped to the couch in a depression. That is, until I realized that there was a specific flower pot that my wife always guarded with her life. On a hunch, I went to it and found the key at the bottom of the pot, under the dirt.

As soon as I opened the door, a rancid and tangible odor attacked me like a falling wall from a decrepit building. The entire basement looked as if it was wasting away; a clear contrast to the rest of the house. The heavy layers of dust upon every surface suggested that the basement hadn't been accessed in years. Using my magic as a flashlight, I guided myself down the stairs and flicked a light switch. Surprisingly, the bulb still worked.

The walls looked molded, the wood was breaking down, the stench was putrid, and the entire place was in disarray. I encountered a strong sense of dysphoria after setting foot in the room, so I quickly searched for some ink with the intent of running upstairs as quickly as possible. To my luck and astonishment, there was a couple parchments that were filled with ink in the corner, hidden under some boxes and books. Oddly enough, one of the boxes was one in which she brought down after I had first moved in. I had not seen some of this stuff in a long time... I was very curious as to what she put in there, so I picked up the box, seized the ink, and raced up to the master bedroom.

After finishing up the reports, I decided to take a look in the box I picked up.  When I did, I found a video camera.  Snoopng is usually taboo, but my curiosity was really getting to me.

There was only four videos on the camera, each lasting no more than thirty seconds each.  One was labeled HIM, another was ONE, another was TWO, and the last was WHY.  Being the curious idiot, I decided to check out HIM.  

I shouldn't have done that.  

The video was extremely shaky and grainy. I could barely make out the figure of a stallion tied up with some sort of a metallic rope. A mare, moving as if she was floating on air, not moving a single bone in her body but yet being able to slowly hover around the room, came into the picture. To my horror, she brought out a knife and started slowly cutting the stallion. The stallion screamed in brutal pain as the woman slowly cut him to pieces. Blood poured from his mouth and all his lacerations as the mare dug the knife in deeper.  She ripped out the hai from his main, throwing the hair onto the ground.  She used a lighter to set all of the hair that was left on his on fire. Covered in horrific burns and terrifying cuts, the man had stopped screaming and was now simply bawling. He occasionally screamed out, "WHY?!", for that was all he could muster. Each time he did, the mare stabbed him again. She began laughing as the stallion began vomiting blood and entrails. She picked up the small solid pieces of the vomit with the knife and slowly licked the knife clean, giggling like a schoolgirl. She then proceeded to gouge the stallion's left eye out while he was still alive. I couldn't watch anymore, so I closed the video.

Shaken and horrified, I selected on ONE. I had to know what was going on. This time, it was a young colt, about eight years old, tied up, like the stallion in the previous video. He looked confused and innocent. I shook my head and fell into tears. Such a thing was not about to befall this boy...

This video was of the same quality as the last one; however, the background was much brighter. They seemed to be in an abandoned household, falling apart and in ruin. The mare floated over to the colt, much like she did in the last video, and kissed him gently on the cheek. She slowly brought heat lamps (the source of the brightness mentioned before) over to the boy, one by one, until the entire video was white. After a while, the camera was dimmed so that the colt could be seen again. The innocent look once seen in the beginning of the video turned into one of excruciating pain. The heat lamps slowly began burning his clothes and skin. Bubbles and blisters began rapidly forming on his skin as he too screamed in pain. As with the stallion in the last video, he screamed "WHY?!", and was punished each time by being brutally lashed with a belt studded with pieces of what appeared to be broken glass. The blisters began to boil as the child was roasted alive. Eventually the screaming stopped and the boy fell into seizures. At this point, the same giggling in the last video could be heard again, this time even louder. She then took a knife and carved "I DESERVED THIS" into the child's melting torso as he screamed. Eventually, the boy stopped moving. I closed out at that point.

I needed to see the next one. I had to witness this. This had to be stopped. With such a determination, I selected on TWO. This time, there was no one strapped to the chair; instead, an infant car seat was in the chair with what seemed to be a newborn infant tightly strapped inside. Like the previous videos, a mare floated over to the child. She rubbed it's head and briefly went off camera. She came back with a syringe and violently stuck it into the child's body, injecting a blue liquid into the child. Unique to the collection, the video began fast forwarding. At first, the infant seemed normal, happy, smiling, and carefree.

As the fast forwarding progressed, the child grew more and more uncomfortable. It started coughing and wheezing. It began puking up a white liquid and began crying, almost as if it too was saying "WHY?!"  A dark bottle was briefly placed in front of the camera, and the words TASTY JUICE were written upon it. The bottle was turned over to reveal its contents; a blue liquid that sizzled when it reached the ground. Bloodcurdling screams erupted from the baby as it fell into more of an unstable condition. As the shrieking child grew closer to death, the same giggling in the previous videos presented itself, but, this time, it was far louder than before. Determined to make it to the end, I fixated my eyes upon the screen despite how much they were tugging at me to look away. The woman was screaming in laughter louder than the baby was at this point.  Then she walked over to the child, unstrapped it from the chair, grabbed it by the legs, and swung it against the wall.  Before it hit the wall, the video then went black.

Shaking, I forced myself to click on WHY.  Before the video played, I noticed that this file was added within the last hour. Almost blinded by fear, I swallowed my apprehension and opened my eyes. This time, there was just the mare. No other person was present. She was facing away from the camera and was speaking in a demonic tone. I can't recall exactly, but here's a paraphrased transcript of what she said.

"Hello. Clearly by now you know that I'm not the person you thought I was. I'm a sick and twisted mare. I love this. It makes me so happy to see somebody die, especially at my hand. I know you're watching this, and I know you're terrified. The ghosts of those I have killed are swarming around you right now, telling you to pull away from the screen, to save yourself. Yet you still sit there and watch, waiting for some happy ending or reasonable explanation as to the events you have just witnessed. There are no special effects here; what you saw was real. I love watching this footage, even so much as to pleasure myself to it, but I had to hide it. You couldn't know. Your lonely piece of garbage brain would tell you to turn me in. You were so desperate for love... You fell in love with a serial killer."

The mare turned around instantly and I recognized the face of my wife. I couldn't even feel emotion at this point. I didn't know what to think. My memory had fallen to pieces. I didn't know where I was, or who I had been, or what I was about to go through. Everything in my life died as I saw the once happy and bubbly eyes that I once saw in my wife become vapid and emotionless. A smile crept across her face, one that makes me quiver in malaise upon the slightest thought of it. This wasn't possession. This wasn't mental illness. This was just... Evil. So evil. The video continued.

"It's quite a shame. I really loved you. We had this passion. Hehehe. Remember the giggle? I made you fall in love with me. I tricked you. I lied to you. And, wanna know the best part? I knew you would find out. I couldn't keep the secret forever. Eventually you'd find the key to the basement, eventually the stench would become too strong, eventually the decaying foundation would begin to topple the house, and eventually you'd finally realize that my children never had leukemia and that my husband never left... I killed them. And, they're closer than you think. Why do you think the basement smells so bad? You'd be surprised how easy it is to cement pony remains into the floor. You stepped on my dead children and husband. Feel proud of yourself?

"I...

"I know you're watching this. I just made this video. I know what you've done."

I began shaking my head, fearing what I knew I was about to hear. A cold sweat crept upon me as I suddenly felt two eyes bore into the back of my head. I was paralyzed.

"Those noises you're hearing aren't the pipes. Turn around."

I slowly turned and froze as I met the psychotic eyes of my wife. She began to giggle.

I don't know what happened after that. I've been told by the police that people heard screams coming from my house during my attempted murder and called the police. I was told by physicians that I was violated with the sharp end of a screwdriver and that she placed a block of hot ice on my lap. I was tied to a chair, the same one as was used in previous videos, and was videotaped. All the videos are now in police custody, and I refuse to see mine.

My wife was given the death penalty. I was present at the execution. Her last words were to tell me that she would never leave me, that she would always know where I was, that she would never give up on my murder, and that she never left a job unfinished. She was sure to tell me that I would see her again, that she'd send another minion to finish the job. She finished by telling me that I would never be safe. Ever.

She survived the first three attempts at lethal injection, but died on the fourth. She was smiling, and she giggled like a little schoolgirl right before she died.

I have been through extensive therapy, and, years later, I have been able to overcome the horrific trauma I saw and experienced. I still make six figures a year, I have made a good network of friends, and my life has been incredible. I feel accomplished and successful, something I never felt before. I am now confident. So confident, in fact, that I am going on a date tonight with a girl. She's cute too, with this long, dark, flowing hair vibrant green eyes, and a dazzling yellow body.

Russian Sleep Experiment

Griffon scientists, before Celestia's rule, kept five ponies awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant.  These ponies were found wandering around their territory.  When they were found, they claimed that they had no memory of how they had gotten there, or who they were.  They were later comfirmed wanted criminals in Griffon territory as well as the pony civilization located just to the south.

Griffons decided to use them for their latest experiement.  They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. They were kept under constant watch. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for thirty days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about random subjects. They knew about certain events, but they did not know anything about themselves.  The general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the four day mark.

After five days they started to complain about their conditions, and some even complained about their own life.  The scientists guessed that the gas was curing them of their amnesia.  Soon enough, the subjects began to plot against one another, and even began to try to kill each other. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for three hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The two non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After three more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with five ponies inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all five must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen five people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the fourteenth day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."

Debate broke out among the researchers and the griffon forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object.  Three different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'

The food rations past day five had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing four inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their hooves indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Griffon special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...

To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Griffon soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another five of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the griffon/pony dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a four inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a two-hundred pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken nine bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire six hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."

All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"

The subject smiled.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."

Under the Bed

        I've been lying down for hours now.  It's 5:35 am, and there's not much I can do.  Do you know what the worst part about my situation is?  I'm in the same room with my parents.  They keep looking at me and I can't help but look back and try not to cry or scream. There's eyes are focused on me, there mouths are wide open, there's the strongest scent of blood.  I feel so paralyzed with fear.

Here's the thing.  The second I make any sign that I'm not asleep anymore, I am completely bucked.  I will die and there's nopony around to save me.  I've been trying to think of a way out, but the only idea that I have is to rush for the door, run out the front door and scream for help hoping any neighbors will hear me.  It's risky, but if I stay, I'll die.  He's waiting for me to wake up and see his masterpiece.

You're probably wondering what's going on, I do tend to get ahead of myself sometimes.  First, my name is Scootaloo.  About four hours ago, I heard something strange screaming coming from the other side of the house.  I got up and went to check out the noise, but I realized that I had to use the bathroom.  Instead of doing the smart thing and investigating, I used the bathroom first.  I could have gotten myself killed right then because of my stupid actions, but I actually did my business, and took a peek outside of the bathroom.  There was blood on the carpet.  And amidst the puddle of the crimson liquid, was my older brother Barren.

I got very worried, and ran back to my bedroom.  I hid myself beneath my sheets like the chicken I was.  I tried to convince myself to go back sleep, that it was just a really vivid dream or something.  But then I heard my bedroom door open.  Like the terrifying child I was, I peeked under my blankets to see what was going on.  I could see something dragging my dead parents into the room.  It was not a pony, I can tell you that.  It was hairless, without a mane or a tail.  It's head didn't even look like a pony.  I can't really tell you what it looked like.  It walked like it had limps on all four of its legs.  I didn't know how it could walk like that.  As it walked, it drug my parents to the end of my bed.

It propped my dad up against the wall and made him face me, and sat my mom on a chair, facing me as well.  The thing started rubbing its hooves against the wall, staining them with blood, and it drew a circle with the devil's pentagram in it.  This thing made what it called a masterpiece.  To finish it off, it scribbled a message on the wall.  I couldn't read in the darkness.  It then positioned itself under my bed, and it's now waiting to attack me.  The scariest thing about this is that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and now I can see the message.  I don't want to look at it, because it's terrifying to think about it.  But I feel the need to see.

I peek at the creatures masterpiece.  "I know you're awake.  But I'll let you live.  Look under the bed."  

I didn't want to look under the bed, but what else was I going to do.  I lift the blankets off of me, and I peer under my bed.  I'm staring at the dead body of... Rainbow Dash?  

I'm suddenly awaked by a flash of lightning and the boom of thunder.  I look at the alarm clock, to see it's 5:46.  I overslept.  Now my foster parents are going to get mad at me.  But, there nice people, so I imagine that their punishment can't be that bad.  

But now that I'm awake, I can't help but think about that dream last night.  Usually I forget my dreams just like that.  But this felt so real.  It felt so familiar.  It was almost like... a memory.

Smarty Pants

Twilight Sparkle was turning ten this year. May 8th was on Sunday and it was Saturday afternoon.  Twilight, being a terrible pony at dropping hints, her mother brought her to the 99 cent stores, letting her choose her own birthday present.

“Now, just look around and let me know if you see anything. I’ll be looking at novels over there.” Her mother had told her. A knick-knack here, a curio there; it was a quaint little shop.  Twilight didn’t know what to get; there were so many things to choose from.

She’d just about settled on an odd pony doll with five hooves (She liked strange things, what are you going to do?), when she saw it in the window display.  It was a new-looking rag doll with buttons for eyes. “Oh, he's so handsome!” she said, in awe of the beauty of the doll. She happily skipped to her mother and brandished the doll. Mrs. Sparkle raised the doll up like Twilight did.

“Wow.  Um... you really want this doll?"  Twilight nodded as a response.  "Well... alright.  Go ahead and buy it."

Twilight happily trotted to the front counter.  

“I’d like to buy this doll, please, sir.” she asked politely.

The old man squinted at the doll and said “Oh no, you wouldn’t want that doll.”

Confused, she asked “What? Of course I want this doll.”

He just shook his head and said “Well, alright, but…” His next words were mumbled under his breath. She took the doll off the counter and held onto it as Mrs. Sparkle paid for a few books.

On the way home, she couldn’t stop looking at the doll. He looked a little sad that nopony wanted to buy him.  But I bought him.  He shouldn't be so lonely anymore. “… Smarty Pants. His name shall be Smarty Pants.” She hugged the doll tight on the way home.

Upon even closer inspection after arriving home, she noticed a flaw. Smarty Pants only had one button eye. Twilight pinned this as weird, but nothing is perfect. After playing with the doll for the entire day, it was bedtime at 9:00. She left Smarty Pants in the living room along with her other dolls.   Her mother kissed her good night and walked down the stairs to her bedroom.

Twilight had lovely dreams, her playing with a living Smarty Pants in a meadow and dreams such as that. Then she awoke, hearing clacking. Tiny, but audible clacking hoofsteps. They grew in volume, sounding like they were getting closer to Twilight's room. Then there was high-pitched mumbling. Twilight stopped whimpering and listened closely. “… first step. Smarty Pants on the second step, Smarty Pants on the third.”

Refusing to take anymore, Twilight yelled out “Mommy, mommy! Come quick!”

The tiny footsteps pattered away as Mrs. Sparkle rushed to her daughter’s room. “What, what, what?”

        “Mommy, I heard footsteps and I think it was Smarty Pants!”

Her mother sighed, unhappy at being woken up at 11:15 at night. She took Twilight and turned on the light in the living room. Twilight hadn’t moved an inch from her position. Twilight unhappily went back to bed as her mother left to rest.

She managed to get 30 minutes of rest before the sing-song chanting and clacking returned. The chanting continued past three. “Smarty's on the fourth step, Smarty's on the fifth step, Smarty's on the sixth.”

Calling her mother again, Twilight insists she believes its Smarty Pants who’s making the noises. Another check-up on Smarty reveals no change.

“Twilight Sparkle, I really am getting tired of this act. Smarty Pants is a doll, he can’t walk, he can’t talk, and there’s nothing to be scared of.” Twilight looked uneasily at Smarty. The longer she stared, the more Smarty's expression looked malicious. “I have to work overtime tomorrow, and you have magic school, so please sleep and forget about Smarty. She’ll seem less scary during the day.”

“Ah… Oh… Alright, mommy.” She sullenly climbs the stairs to her room and lies in bed. She manages to get some sleep when the clacking and chanting come back. It exceeded the sixth step and continued. There were only 12 steps to her room. “Smarty's on the seventh step,Smarty's on the eighth step, Smarty's on the ninth.”

“M-m-mommy!” she couldn’t help yelling out. Her mother didn’t respond. “Smarty's on the tenth step, Smarty's on the eleventh step…” “MOTHER!!!” she screamed out. Silence was her response.

“Smarty's on the twelfth.”

There was silence in those heart-pounding seconds. But the doorknob jangling broke the silence. The door creaked open. There stood Smarty, holding a steak knife, all bloody. Twilight scrambled under her bed, hoping Smarty didn’t see her. “Smarty killed your mommy. Now Smarty's gonna kill you~” She grabbed Twilight by the hair and pulled her from under the bed. Pointing the knife towards the crying little girl and said “Smarty's in your room.”

On the corner of Canterlot road and 24th Avenue, Smarty is still in the window display, in the 99 cent store, still run by the same old man. He's waiting for another victim.

And did I tell you?  Smarty got two new eyes recently.  Two beautiful, real looking purple eyes.

Floaters

        When his older brother scooped his own eyes out, Button Mash didn't feel guilty.  It wasn't his fault.  His older brother was... not right in the head, so it was easy to pull tricks on him.  Button was only doing what few younger brothers get to do.  Although he loved his brother, and protected (tried) to protect him from bullies, it was fun to play a few tricks on him every now and again.

The two brothers were lying flat in the grass outside of their house, tossing tennis balls at each other when Roller Bash asked a dumb question.  "Hey Button.  What are those things up in the sky?  If I stay still I can see them moving around."

Button knew about eye floaters.  Everypony knew about eye floaters, but his brother didn't.  Button immediately saw this as an oppurtunity.

"Oh my Celestia, you see them too?  I thought I was the only one!"  From then on it was fairly easy.  One Roller got "good" at seeing ghosts in the sky, Button taught him to sit very still, and practice so that he could see ghosts in the walls, or drifting passed the window.

Button would point one out, and Roller was convinced that he could see it too.  Button had given his brother plenty of time to catch on, hadn't he?

But after a couple of weeks, Roller freaked out and had to be rushed to the hospital when he maimed himself.  Button felt a little guilty at first, but then they let him talk to Roller for a while.  

"Why did you pull your eyes out, idiot?"  Button asked.

Roller turned his head, as if he could see through the bandages.  Button felt a chill run through him.  "I didn't," Roller whispered.  "Ghosts don't like to be seen.  They can't stand it.  And Button,"  He reached out to grasp Button's leg.  "Be careful.  They know that you can see them too."

Pretty Little Face

She had such a pretty face, my sister did. She had a coat of a radiant yellow, high cheekbones and cute dimples when she smiled. She had beautifully, icy blue eyes, and deep oak hair that fell in loose curls halfway down her back, and had the greatest pegasus wings I had ever seen. She was tall, and thin. Everyone loved her. All the boys in her school would chase her. All the teachers praised her for her hardwork and good grades. All of her friends adored her because she was so loyal, kind and trustworthy. She was the type of person you'd only meet once in a lifetime. She loved me the way I loved her.  She always looked down on me, and smiled.  She always told me: "You're the best little sister ever, Scootaloo."

I loved the way she screamed. She barely fought back. Ha, I think she was afraid of hurting me. The fear in her eyes when she saw the knife only made her look even more beautiful. She had such a pretty little throat, and it looked even better when it had been cut from side to side. The crimson liquid that streamed from her wound was such a wonderful shade. She had the loveliest corpse.

The Crawlspace

Um… hi there. My name is Rarity. I guess you could say I’m writing this as a cautionary tale to those who plan on studying abroad in future. I don’t mean to discourage you from going in the first place, it’s more like I just want you to be aware of this so that something like this doesn’t happen to you too.

I guess I should explain a little bit. Last summer I was selected to participate in the study abroad program that would be centered in Saddle Arabia for several months. Like anyone would be, I was elated. I had never been out of Equestria before, and the class was all about fashion and clothing, so this was going to be a real adventure for me.

In the weeks that followed I happily packed anything and everything I could fit into my suitcase. (I will be the first to admit that I had way over packed for this trip.) I was nervous about leaving my parents for the first time but I was also excited for the newfound freedom I would have while in Saddle Arabia. Before I knew it my parents were dropping me off at the airport, and I was boarding a three day boat ride to Saddle Arabia

Despite being kind of boring, the cruise wasn’t all that bad. When I reached my destination I was greeted by the program supervisor and several other students who would be studying with me. They were about the same age and all looked just as excited as me. From there we went to our mandatory orientation meeting, and afterwards we went to pick up our apartment keys.

In the months that preceded the trip, we were responsible for getting to know our would be roommates as well as finding a place to stay that we could all afford. There were three girls I would be staying with. They were all unicorns, just like me.  They were also nice enough and made an effort to make me feel welcome, though I will admit it’s a bit hard to get close to the group of preformed friends. But despite my slight alienation, it seemed that things were all going to work out well. All of us were on a similar budget plan, and by that I mean none of us really had much money to spend. Because of this we were all on the same page while searching for the cheapest apartment we could find.

After several days of searching we stumbled across an ad for an ancient apartment located above the Campo di Fiori. That was a prime location and we couldn’t believe it that it was still available, no less listed for an unbelievably low price. This immediately sent alarm bells off in my head. The place was enormous yet the rent was cheaper than the much smaller apartments in a far less desirable part of town. However reason never really wins out in a group of excited young women. They had already made up their minds and if I would be staying with them this was my only option.

We each received our own set of keys as well as a map with walking directions. Because of its prime location it really didn’t take us long to get there. The Campo was amazing. During the daytime it was filled with a vibrant market, while during the evening it was lined with lively street performers. All of the apartments surrounding it looked to be ancient, so ours really didn’t stand out all that much. After circling the square three or four times we finally noticed the number nailed to the front of a massive old wooden door. This would be our home for the next three months.

I fought with my keys for a moment until there was an audible click of the heavy old lock. The thick old door swung forward with a screech. We were then met with a long winding staircase. We all looked at one another and groaned. So three sets of stairs and countless complaints later, all four of us, with luggage in hand stood outside our new front door. Once again I reached for my set of keys and fought with the stubborn lock. As soon as the front door was opened there was a stampede of young mares trying to claim the best rooms. Being a three-bedroom apartment, it meant that two of us would have to share. I personally didn’t really care so I let the others battle it out. When the dust had settled, I found that I would be sharing a room with a filly called Glisten Vial. That was fine with me. Glisten was nice enough and she was also very quiet, my ideal feature in a roommate.

Over the course of the rest of the day we ran around exploring our new home. There were two bathrooms, a full kitchen, and a living room filled to the brim with books. Once again I began to feel uneasy. Just how was it that we were able to get all of this for such a low price? But before I could finish the thought I was interrupted by a fit of loud squealing. My initial reaction was to panic, however I soon learned that all the noise was from excitement. Down at the other end of the apartment near the front door, apparently there was another part of the flat we had missed. I followed the noise until it led me to a long dark hallway. There at the end, behind the group of squealing women was a washing and drying machine. For those of you thinking “what’s the big deal?”, I should explain that these things are incredibly rare in Saddle Arabia. Actually, they're rare on the planet.  They were fairly new, and not many places had them. Generally exchange students have to wash their clothes by hand in the sink before hanging them up to dry. What was a luxury item like this doing in such a cheap apartment?

Just as the screaming quelled it picked right back up again as the girls noticed a door adjacent to the washing machine. Beyond that door was a master bathroom. It had a balcony, a claw-foot tub, and even a bidet. The girls immediately started fighting over “who’s bathroom this was going to be”. I didn’t really see why we couldn’t share, but apparently the others were dead set on having ownership. As it turned out it ended up being my bathroom. Glisten had made a logical argument that because she and I had to share a bedroom, while the other two each got their own, it was only fair that she and I got share the master bath. And I’ll admit that at first I was actually kind of excited, it was after all, a really nice room. However over the course of the next several weeks I began to grow more and more wary of the room. I don’t know how to put it into words. It’s like every time I went into that room I could feel something’s eyes on me. And the voyeuristic element wasn’t really what had me so unnerved. It felt like whatever was watching me was angry, that it didn’t want me there and that it wanted to hurt me.

I began doing everything in my power to avoid the room. I asked Avia if she would mind if I were to use her restroom occasionally. I made up a lame excuse about how it was far more convenient since her room was so close while my bathroom was at the other end of the flat at the end of the very long hallway. She happily agreed though, when I told her that she could use my bathroom anytime she liked. This worked well for a while. For about the first two months of my trip I was able to completely avoid the eerie room. It wasn’t until the final month that everything began to unravel. One night as I prepared to brush my teeth, I found that Avia was already occupying her bathroom. I could hear giggles coming from down the hallway, it was clear both Stephanie and our other roommate were both getting ready for bed in the master bath. I decided that since there was strength in numbers, it would be all right just for tonight.

So I made my way down to the large bathroom where I joined the boisterous girls in brushing my teeth. They were in the midst of some conversation when Reacty, our other roommate, had broken into such a furious fit of laughter that she had to lean on the wall for support. But suddenly she jolted upright as if she had been shocked. We all looked at what had been the cause of her reaction: there on the wall, about the same level as the bathtub was a tiny door. None of us had noticed it because it was the same color as walls. The landlord had even painted over it. Naturally this made me a bit nervous. Whatever it was, the landlord clearly didn’t want anyone opening it. But as usual, throwing all caution to the wind Reacty reached for the handle and began tugging with all her might. Avia clucked her tongue in disapproval before pulling out a small pocket knife. She began delicately carving along the seam of the door. I wanted to beg her to stop, but I really didn’t have the energy to argue that night. So within a few minutes, Reacty had yanked the little door open with a loud crack.

It was… a crawlspace. It was fairly large. My guess would’ve been you could have fit at least three or four people in there. I was rather curious as to why the landlord would’ve sealed up an empty little room. While I thought about this, Glisten and Reacty began calling for Avia to come see their new discovery. She was just as excited as they were when they first discovered it. However, as could be expected, this excitement waned over time and eventually the crawlspace was just turned into storage for a few towels and laundry baskets.

In the following days after the unsealing of the crawlspace, things started to go from eerie to downright terrifying. Annoyingly, Avia had changed her nightly routine so that I could no longer use her bathroom in the evenings. Once again I was back in the large bathroom, all the while, the feeling that I was being watched growing worse and worse. I began to get so paranoid each time I went into that room that I would literally jump at the slightest noise of pipes settling, and as soon as I was finished I would run at full speed down the hallway and close the door behind me. For some reason I seemed to be the only one feeling this way. It’s not like I could’ve told the other girls either. I was already enough of an outcast as it was. So I just kept to myself and hoped it would go away eventually.

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. One night as I was getting ready for bed, I found myself alone in the bathroom. As I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth something set the hairs on the back of my neck straight up. There was a faint rustling noise. Not the kind that could’ve been caused from my roommates at the other end of the flat. Any noises caused by them would have had to have been quite loud to reach me all the way at the end of the long hallway. No this noise was very faint, the sound of someone gingerly shuffling things around. I stood completely silent, terror filling me. The soft rustling noise was coming from inside the crawlspace. I turned on my heels and ran down the hallway to grab the attention of my roommates. I tried to explain to them what happened, but all that came out were incoherent murmurs.

Eventually I managed to stutter “S-Something. Something’s inside the crawlspace!”

They looked at me with fear and confusion in their eyes. As a pack we moved together down the hallway into the bathroom. I nearly fainted when I saw the tiny door hanging fully ajar. Though this discovery filled me with horror, Avia immediately pointed to the balcony’s sliding door. Glisten had left it open to air out the bathroom after having taken a shower several hours ago. She peeked her head out the door and pointed to the slanted rooftop adjacent to ours. There was a pigeons nest occupied by few birds. The girls surmised that a pigeon must have found its way in and was the cause of the disturbance. They all had a good laugh as we made our way back to the living room. I pretended to shake it off but I knew it was not a pigeon that caused the rustling noise. First off, the tiny door had been shut tight all day. None of us really cared to leave it open because it smelled quite musty inside. And secondly, the door had been shut when I left the bathroom, I am certain of this, yet there it was wide open when I returned. You’re not going to tell me that a pigeon knows how to and is capable of opening and closing a door all by itself.

It was at this point that I began to suspect that something was terribly wrong with this apartment. When I got back to my room I pulled out my quill and parchment and wrote to my friend, Fluttershy, back in Ponyville. She had always been the kind type, and would always listen whenever I had a problem. I decided that out of anyone she was probably the best to talk to about my situation. As I expected, she was more than happy to help me. Though she also agreed with me that a pigeon was quite likely not the source. She asked me if I had any photos of the crawlspace. She said that if she could see it, that would help her to understand a little more clearly, and possibly help her to come up with a more logical explanation.

Relieved at her willingness to at least hear me out, I reached for my camera and made my way back down the eerie hallway. When I arrived I found, to my relief, that the door was still closed. I stood in front of it for a moment, gathering my nerve before finally pulling the little door open. Despite the clutter left inside by my roommates, it was empty. I snapped a quick photo before closing the door once more and running back to my room. I immediately plugged my camera into my computer and uploaded the photo. When I finally opened the image, I was petrified by what I saw. There in the upper right-hand corner was a face, baring its teeth at me. My whole body began violently shaking.

“Dear Celestia. That thing is in our home!” I muttered to myself.

Fear began to overtake me. Somepony had sealed whatever it was inside of that crawlspace, and we had let it out. I was so absorbed in my panic I didn’t even notice when my roommate returned. She was so blissfully unaware of the imminent danger we were in, yet even if I tried to warn her she would not believe me. I was at a loss of what to do, and finally decided that I would deal with it in the morning. Though not by a large amount, I did feel braver in the sunlight. From there I attempted to get some sleep. Though for the first time ever since being there I closed and bolted my door before getting into bed. Glisten eyed me suspiciously while doing so, but I just told her jokingly that Reacty had been sneaking into our room the previous nights and had been stealing my snacks that I kept in my luggage. She laughed heartily, shaking her head before settling down for the night. I will admit that the only reason I was able to find any sleep that night was because of her presence. Something about not being alone can give one a sense of false security.

It was about two o’clock in the morning when the sound woke me. I had always been a light sleeper so the faint noise was enough to stir me. It sounded like a door being pushed open at the other end of the flat followed by hoofsteps. But these weren’t just normal hoofsteps. They were far too fast. It sounded like someone was running at full speed from the foyer to the living room and all about the apartment. But these weren’t heavy hooffalls like the kind you would expect from a running person. They were very light, almost unnaturally so. My initial reaction was to assume it was either Avia or Reacty, so I got up and stuck my ear to the wall behind me that separated Reacty's room from mine. I could hear her faint but steady breathing. She was clearly asleep, it wasn’t her. I then crossed over to the other side of my room near the door and once again stuck my ear to the wall. Avia's snoring was quite audible, there’s no way it was her. I slowly began to grow fearful as I turned in a last resort to see if Glisten had perhaps gotten up, but I could plainly see her resting form silently rising up and down. A shiver went down my spine and I nearly screamed when I realized that the footsteps had come to a stop outside of my door. Despite all the lights being out, I could clearly see the looming dark shadow of a form through the tiny crack at the foot of my door.

I dared not move. Whatever it was, it was just standing there. Waiting. Then to my horror, my doorknob slowly began to jiggle. Gently at first but then growing violent at the realization of it being locked. The noise of it eventually woke my roommate. She sat up, blinking in confusion. That instant the jiggling of the doorknob stopped. She asked me just what the hay I was doing and if I knew what time it was. I told her it wasn’t me! I told her that whatever had opened the door to the crawlspace the previous day had come back. But she just furrowed her brow at me and said that I needed to get more sleep.

The next day I made an appointment with my programs supervisor. I told him that I just needed to go home. He tried to tell me that I was just homesick and that it would pass, but I insisted. He eventually gave up and let me call my parents. They were confused but understanding. They were able to change the date of my return flight to the following morning. I really wanted to get out of there that day, but understandably that was the soonest they could manage. Unfortunately this meant that I would have to stay one more night in the apartment.

When I returned I tried to tell the others about what had been going on. I knew I was going to be getting out of there and would be out of danger, but I was still immensely worried for their safety. But none of them took me seriously, they looked at me as if I was a mad mare. They didn’t say anything but I was sure they all thought I was going home because of some sort of mental breakdown.

At that point there was nothing I could say that would convince them. So that night I locked my door and hesitantly went to bed. And right on cue, once again around two o’clock in the morning I was awoken by the rapid hoofsteps scampering around the apartment. I could hear the door to the bathroom begin to creak open, followed by the door at the end of the hallway. The footsteps grew louder and faster as they moved through the apartment. And finally, once more they came to a pause outside of my door. I could hear breathing this time, slow and heavy. I sat up in panic, and to my horror I saw that Glisten had forgotten to lock the door behind her after getting up to use the restroom.

It was right outside my door and I did not know if I had time to jump up and try to lock it before the thing realized there was nothing blocking its way. I hesitated a moment too long and by the time I had sat up straight in my bed, the handle slowly began to turn. I froze in terror as the door cracked open revealing my tormentor. It stood there ominously in the doorway, staring me down. It’s eyes protruded slightly from its skull and gave off a very faint bluish light. It didn’t appear to have a nose, only slits where the nostril should have been. It had the teeth of a stallion, but had no lips, giving it the impression of an eternally toothy snarl. It’s grayish white skin was waxy and stretched tight over its bony face. The rest of its skeletal form was hard to make out as it was almost entirely enveloped in shadows.

After pausing for a moment in the doorway, it began to head toward me. As it moved, its body let out sickening cracks. I sat there, still petrified by fear until it had made its way to the hoof of my bed. It’s heavy breaths were deafeningly loud. I don’t know how Glisten slept through it. The air had begun to smell sour and stagnant.

With frightening speed, it jolted to the other end of the bed, mere feet from me. I gagged at the smell of it, like sulfur and rotting flesh. Slowly it unfurled one of its along the gnarly hands and proceeded to reach for me. Not until it was several inches away did I finally find my voice. I screamed as loud as I possibly could and it halted in its tracks. Reacty shot up from her bed, visibly frightened. The creature cringed and fled from the room with unsettling movements that recalled those of the spider. A moment later Reacty switched the light on and looked at me furiously. She demanded to know what the fuss was all about. I told her exactly what had happened, but she just called me a nutcase.

The taxi came to pick me up very early the next morning. The sun had not even risen by the time it arrived. None of the girls came to see me off, but I expected this. After loading my luggage into the trunk I climbed into the back seat of the old cab. It had driven right through the square and was sitting at the base of my apartment. When I leaned to look out the window I could see where my room had been. My face contorted into a mixture of panic and concern. There, looking out of my old window was the creature. It’s unblinking eyes bore into me and it’s lipless mouth curled into a snarling grin. Before I could say anything, the cab driver had taken off, leaving that tartarus house far behind.

I tried to warn them. I really did. I did everything in my power to try to warn them of the danger that they were in, but none of them listen to me. There was no way I could’ve stopped what happened after I returned home. You see, several weeks after returning to Equestria, I received a phone call from the program director. He informed me that a day before the program ended, two of my past roommates, except for Glisten had been reported missing. The authorities had no idea just how long they had actually been gone for, as they were only recently discovered to be missing when the program director went to check on them after none of them made it to the end of the program wrap up meeting. They assumed it had been at least a week or two, since all the food in the apartment was expired. There was no sign of forced entry, and no valuables were missing. The only notable detail mentioned in the report was that when they arrived on the scene, there was a strange little door hanging ajar in the bathroom. And when they approached it, they were met with a powerful odor coming from no visible source. The official report has them declared as missing, but I know that they’re all dead.

Weeks after they were reported missing, I got a message from Glisten Vial.  She told me that something had changed about her.  Something glorious.  I asked why she bothered on telling me, but she never replied back.

I know that I’m incredibly lucky to have made it out with my life. I think the only reason I’m still alive today is because I fled thousands of miles and across an ocean. Despite their unwillingness to listen, I still feel an unimaginable amount of guilt over what happened to those girls. That’s why I’m writing this now. I may not be able to go back in time and save them, but maybe I can prevent this from happening to you. Please, PLEASE heed my warning. If you ever get the opportunity to study abroad, keep this in mind: if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. And WHATEVER you do, don’t stay on the third floor of the ancient yellow apartment complex above the Campo di Fiori. There’s something there. Something evil.  

The Strangest Security Tape I've Ever Seen

I work at a general store in Trottingham. It's in a fairly small town out in the middle of nowhere.  It's a boring job, but it's pretty easy and it pays all right. A few weeks ago, this new guy started; I'll call him Delphix

Delphix is weird. He's about twenty-five or twenty-six, and he hardly speaks, but he's got the creepiest laugh I've ever heard. My boss and I have both noticed this, but it's never been a problem, so there's not much we can do about it. Customers have never complained about him, and he's always done his job fairly well. Up until a few weeks ago, anyway—that's when things started going missing. Employee theft can be a problem at any store, and there's only one person working at a time at this general store. About two weeks ago, my boss started noticing that we were short on common items, like food, snacks, and other such items like those. At first, it was a few items at a time, then entire shelves and boxes from the back room. Pretty soon entire shipments would be gone the day after we got them, and it would always be right after Delphix's shifts. My boss has checked the security camera tapes from every single night he worked, but he could never catch him in the act. Delphix would lock up at closing, then the motor oil would be gone the next day.

My boss usually takes the tapes home with him to try and catch Delphix stealing, but his daughter had a softball game last night, so he asked me to watch the tape for him. He offered to pay me overtime, under-the-table, so obviously I took that offer. There are three cameras, so he gave me three different tapes to check. I figured it would be a long night, but I'm trying to save up for vacation, so I really needed the money. I took the tapes home, popped them in an old VCR and sat back.

Two days ago (the last time he worked), Delphix started at 4 PM. Everything seemed pretty normal at first. He counted up his drawer, switched off with the girl who was working before him, and waited for a customer. The first person who came in was a grey mare with a black mane.  I didn't get a good look at her cutie mark (the timestamp on the video read 4:03). She picked up   some food and paid . Nothing unusual there. The next customer was some local guy named Arsel. He's a mechanic, and usually comes in every few days. He got some nails, got a bag of potato chips, paid his fee, and then left. Next was some gal with a cowboy hat. I'd never seen her before, but we get plenty of strangers passing through, just like at any gas station. She got forty bits worth of apples, paid, and went on her way. I sat back and sighed. The only thing more boring than doing this job is watching someone else do it.

My boss's offer was enough to keep me watching though, so I left the tape on. Everything seemed pretty normal. I had a feeling that if Dephix was stealing, he knew we were suspicious of him by now. I didn't expect him to be dumb enough to let us catch him on camera. Things stayed boring and routine until about five o'clock.

At 5:03, the grey mare came back in; she must have forgotten something. But she didn't.  She got the same food as before. She paid with her bits, and left.. That's odd, I thought.  I thought Delphix should have told her she already gotten food, but it's not against the rules to sell somebody the same thing twice. That's when Arsel came in again. He bought some more nails and the same bag of potato chips.

No big deal, I figured this was just a weird coincidence. The grey mare probably needed more food than what she had gotten and Arsel probably bought the wrong amount of nails . That's when the gal in the cowboy hat came back in. I felt a chill run down my spine. "Don't get apples, don't get apples," I found myself whispering to my empty living room...but she did. she got forty bits worth of apples. Every move she made was identical to her first visit, right down to the way he scratched his nose before he walked out. Either this guy is rich, owns a lot of trucks, and just moved into town, or something really bizarre was happening. I kept watching.

Every customer for the next hour was the same as before. Every single one. I was seriously freaked out, and then at 6:03, the grey mare walked back in. She bought food and paid twenty bits again. I thought I was going to lose it. I only watched another half hour before I started fast forwarding through the rest. It was all the same. Every customer would come in at the exact same times, exactly one hour apart.

Now I know what you're thinking. That sneaky motherbucker Delphix had messed with the tapes. He had run a loop of his first hour of business over and over. That wasn't the case. There are windows around the cash register area that the camera covers, and I watched the sunlight fade as time ran on. Delphix's routine didn't loop over—he swept, mopped, restocked, and did all his duties exactly how you would expect. But the same customers kept coming in.

I was panicking at this point. Something was seriously wrong with what I was seeing, and I had no explanation for it. I skipped ahead to when he locked up and walked out to his car. He hadn't stolen anything, but I kept watching, just to make sure. I fast forwarded one last time, to about midnight.

At exactly 12:03, out of nowhere, Delphix's face pops up on camera. I don't mean he moved his head into view, I mean that one second the store was empty, the next second his face was all I could see. He wasn't looking at the camera, he was looking at me, I was sure of it. I screamed and fumbled for the remote. By the time I grabbed it, he was gone, just as soon as he had left. One frame he was there, the next he wasn't. My hands were shaking like crazy, but I popped in another tape. The other indoor camera shows the back area, by the cash register, and I would be able to see how he got up to put his face in the camera like that. I skipped ahead to 12:03, but there was nothing. I would have been able to see him standing on a chair or something on this tape, but he wasn't there. I didn't see him enter the store at all after he left. It's like he wasn't really there. He doesn't know the security code, and no alarms were triggered that night after he locked up.

What I did see, however, was that at 12:03, the food in the first isle had disappeared.  Vanished off the shelf. All of it. Same as Delphix's face, one second it was there and the next it wasn't. I turned that tape off and went to bed, but I didn't get a wink of sleep. My body is exhausted right now, but my mind is racing. That tape was undoubtedly the creepiest, most disturbing thing I've ever seen in my life.

I work in a few hours. My boss asked me to bring the tapes back in and let him know what I found, but really, what the hay am I going to say? Delphix works the night shift tonight, directly after me, and the plan is for my boss to come in just before I leave and confront him with me (as I'm supposed to be the one who caught him stealing). I have no idea what I'm going to do. I suppose I'll have to show my boss the tapes, but I don't want to watch them with him. I never want to see something like that again. I can't get the image of Delphix just smiling directly into the camera out of my mind; it was the creepiest look I've ever seen on another pony's face.

Anyway, I'm gonna try again to get some last minute sleep before I have to go in and deal with this. I'll let you guys know what happens...

UPDATE (2:49 PM): Updating from my phone, apologies in advance for errors. My boss just finished watching the last of the tapes. I told him what to expect, but you really can't prepare someone for something like that. He was scared witless (I still am too) and Delphix is due to come in at 4. We've got a little over an hour to get our crap together, but neither one of us knows what to say to him. Is he just a bucked up guy who likes to steal food items and scare people? Or is he something else? I don't know if this is crazy, but does anyone think he could have anything to do with the time loop? My boss said he never noticed anything like that in the other tapes, but the way he popped up in this one made me think he knew I would be watching. It's like he wanted me to see what he could do. Like he was showing off or something. The way he smiled into the camera was like a little foal showing you a sandcastle they just built or something. I don't know, I probably sound crazy. I sure feel the part. I'm going to talk to my boss some more. We have to calm ourselves down and figure out how to handle this. I'll update again tonight, but I have a really bad feeling about how this is going to play out.

UPDATE (4:33 PM): No sign of Delphix. Tried calling him, but his phone has been disconnected. We're calling the police.

UPDATE (5:33 PM): No sign of Delphix. Tried calling him, but his phone has been disconnected. We're calling the police.

UPDATE (6:33 PM): No sign of Delphix. Tried calling him, but his phone has been disconnected. We're calling the police.

UPDATE (7:33 PM): No sign of Delphix. Tried calling him, but his phone has been disconnected. We're calling the police.

UPDATE (8:33 PM): No sign of Delphix. Tried calling him, but his phone has been disconnected. We're calling the police.

UPDATE (10:58 PM): Buck! I just got home and saw my previous updates. Things make less sense now than ever. Here's what I can tell you. I went to work, Delphix never showed up, my boss and I decided to call the police, as you're well aware. When I picked up the phone to call, though, the sun went out. I am completely serious, that's what I thought happened. Apparently I blacked out for exactly five hours, because when I looked at the clock, it was 9:33. I think I got stuck in Delphix's time loop, and then I snapped out of it at the exact point I blacked out, if that makes sense. But that's when things got really weird.

My boss was right next to me when I blacked out, ready to corroborate my story to the cops. When I came to, the phone was in my hand, but it was dead. Not even a dial tone. My boss was still right there, but he wasn't moving. He was standing up, but frozen. I looked at the clock again, and it wasn't moving. The second hand was stuck on the 12. It was 9:33 exactly. The clock on the register wasn't moving either. There was even a customer at the register, waiting for my boss to get him cigarettes. I'm betting that would have been his fifth pack of the day.

I got the buck out of there. Didn't lock up, didn't turn the lights out, and sorry guys, I didn't grab the security tapes to upload on the internet. Believe me, that was the last thing on my mind. The general store was located at the exit of the city, so it was usually the first place that ponies would go. I took a step outside, and I saw ponies going about their business. Only they weren't moving.  The ponies were sitting still as wax statues. I ran, I didn't look anywhere or even take a break, I just ran.

About halfway home, time started up again. Everypony was walking around again, and nopony seemed to notice the time freeze. I was the only one. Well, I'm sure Delphix noticed as well. I still have no clue where he is or what he's doing. I'm hiding in my room and calling the police again in the morning. I don't know if I ever got through to them before, or if I did, whether they took me seriously. I'm scared for my life at this point. I'll update tomorrow, if I can.

FINAL UPDATE (10:33 AM): I finally fell asleep last night around 4. I have no idea how I did it, I guess exhaustion finally got the best of me. This morning, I woke up to a letter on my face. It was my boss. He'd been trying to contact me since about 6. He woke up when time turned back on last night and immediately called the cops. They came by to see what was wrong and he told them everything. The police around here are all small time guys; they were more concerned with the missing items than anything, but my boss figured he would take it, as long as he had their attention. They decided to go looking for Delphix.

We keep all our employees' applications on file, and since Delphix just started working here, his was easy to find. They checked the address on it and headed over to his house. You're not gonna believe what they found.

The address Delphix listed on his application was an empty lot. Or at least now it is. There used to be a house there, but it burned down in 1993. Being a small town, almost everyone remembers that fire. A family of four used to live there way back when. Rumor has it that they had an estranged son who they never really talked about, but I can't say for sure if that's true. What I can say is true is that after an insurance investigation, the fire was ruled an arson. The entire house was soaked in oil and torched with a Molotov cocktail. The entire family was sleeping when it happened; none of them survived.

They never caught the guy who did it. Rumor has it that when they tried to contact the estranged son, no one could find him.

Anyway, my boss called and told me this, and I freaked out. Then he asked me to come to the gas station. "What are you, crazy?" I said, but he assured me that the cops were there with him. Then he dropped a bomb: Canterlot guards were also in town and they were going to talk to me one way or another, so I might as well come in. It was about 7:15, and I wanted to go back to bed, but I figured I wouldn't be able to sleep much more anyway, so I went down.

Four men in armor greeted me and told me to have a seat. We went over everything two or three times until they got all the details down. I told them about Delphix, the security tape, last night at work. Everything. Finally, after I finished, one of the agents said, "Oh Celestia, we've got another one on our hands." Then they made me sign a bunch of papers saying I wouldn't tell anyone about what happened, so I can't say much more. I might be breaking the law just by posting this.

So now I'm home. I'm not sure what to do with myself. That agent's words when I told him the story are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Anyway, I've got to go. I have some errands to run today, and then I have to go in to work to pick up some tapes. My boss and I think this new guy Delphix (he's a complete creep) is stealing some of the items from the store and I have to watch the security footage to see if I can catch him doing it. I have better things to do, but my boss is paying me overtime, under-the-table, and I'm trying to save up for vacation so I could really use the money. It should be pretty simple; the stuff. Right here.[/url] always goes missing right after his shifts. I figure I'll just watch the tapes, catch him in the act, and that will be that.

Zasphas

My name is Arkane Vander.  Now what I'm about to write is rushed, because I don't have time to go into very many details.  

My travels have brought me to a settlement known as Lustercoat.  This community is really bland, and not much happens around here.  It's filled to the brim with common ponies, that you would see in any other city/town in Equestria.  I had come here just so I could rest up before leaving the next morning.  I couldn't wait in a hotel room the entire day, so I decided to go walk around town.  It was then that I met a pony named Zasphas.

Zasphas was a normal looking pony at first glance.  She was a green mare with a messy red mane.  She didn't look very... how do I say this... good looking.  And yet, I still admired her.  She was a very social pony, had a great personality, and had a good reputation.  Zasphas went out everyday and did service for others.  I spoke to her and asked why she did these things, and she replied with, "I just want to help the ponies who can't help themselves."

She and I became very good friends in a short two hours.  We started having a little chat after she told me that.  The entire time, she seemed very gittery and jumpy.  It seemed that she was afraid of something.  

The next morning I woke up, and I found out that Zasphas had died.  I went to her house that morning to tell her good-bye, but her house was surrounded by police tape.  I managed to in her house, just in time to see her body.  Her left front leg was badly mangled, and her face was... gone.  It was just plain gone.  

I later found out that Zasphas was a very paranoid mare.  She had constantly told others that something was chasing her, something wanted her.  I was told by a stallion named Acre.  Jhe told me that Zasphas had constantly talked about this monster that she claimed was chasing her.  He told me that this monster was a strange being, who could deform any body part of yours, just by staring at you.  It could also make you write whatever it wanted you too.  Even if you weren't writing anything at the time, you would suddenly find yourself writing jarbled, mssede up words.  

I had to change my plans, and stay in town until her funeral.  

On the day of the funeral, somepony left me a slip of paper.  I don't know who had given it to me, and nopony else seemed to know who it was from.  I opened the paper, and found this.  

———–

I’m writing this because I need to get something off my chest.

It’s not a matter of “gaining attention.” It’s a matter of just… talking.

Anything to talk. I haven’t talked in so long          .

I can’t remember the exact dates. It’s all like a blur to me. Well, almost all… almost all.

I was sleeping in my bed and I could swear I saw the shadow. It was standing outside that little glass door by my bed. And I could swear I had sleep paralyssis, I read about it, and knew it even though I could move my left arm. I couldn’t         move anything else. It was terrifying, I think.

And that was just the first night.

The second night

I faced from the door

Opposite, like.

And then the knob, it rattled. It rattled so bad. So loud, too. And it was slow at first, real slow. But then it got louder and faster and      I        heard the glass being tapped at and I knew it had happened again but my left arm was pinned under my sleeping body so I couldn’t tell if it was the exact thing or not. But it stopped after a while, maybe because it thought I wasn’t awake like last time, or it got tired of looking at my back. Backs are boring. What a pretty face.

And then there was third night, some weeks later. I’d thought it gave up, that it didn’t see me as fit anymore or something – and I was veryvery glad.

But that night, and I was on my back, and my head turned to the door. I shouldn’t ahve been looking at the doorr. I didn’t meant to. It was my fault all my fault yes.

I heard the coming on teh grass- like soft feet padding through it, then the fallls on the planks of the staircase of the deck, getting closer. And then a body shot to the rail, like a blur, a black blur, and I didn’t see it until it was far too late . I

ts face was pressed againsst the glass, all black, and the grin- you could see white teeth and gums, nothing more, grinning. Long neck attached to the bodyand it had spindly arms and legs that bent the wrong way.                ,               .

And it began to bash it’s ugly face agains t the glass door! The glass was cracking more and more with each bash I want your pretty face and I couldn’t move at all, only my left arm, but it felt like everytime I raised it and bent it its gone it bended in another way and grew out further. It was really not useable at all and I could just lay there as the glass gave in.

And it’s head burst in, but there was no sound of the glass breaking

b

ut I told myself “This is paralysis, it’s a dream, it will disappear” like all the other dreams.

B&$ut iIt’s bLIKEeen so lYOURong siPRETTnce YI talked to aFACEnyone. Please list&*en

———–

After that, I threw the paper away feeling uneasy.

I don’t know what happened to Zasphas. Something tells me that I don’t want to know.

my left arms hu     rts.


Credit: Goaruma

Trust

I open my eyes and look up at a ceiling. I’m strapped to something, can’t move. What feels like a belt is holding my head in place to the backrest. I move my eyes down; I can see most of another stallion's face there. His head is also strapped down. His eyes are darting left and right, teeth clenched, struggling to free himself. I make my own attempts, knowing they would be useless, but trying anyway. Whatever I'm tied to is bolted to the floor, it won’t move. The stallion is pretty close to me, if we could move, we could probably touch. I’m scared. I have no idea how this will play out.

“Hey,” I say, “you know what’s going on here?”

“No! I went to sleep and woke up tied to a bucking chair with some idiot in front of me who’s apparently in the same bucking situat-"  He stops.  "I'm sorry... I didn't know you were a mare."  

Stupid question I suppose, “Can you move anything besides your eyes and mouth?

He tries again. “Just my fingers and toes, damn much that can do.”

“Ok,” I sigh, “looks like we’re stuck here until whoever did this decides to do what they’re doing. What’s your name?”

“I'm Felix.”

“I’m... Rose.” I’m curious about this stallion. Why is he here with me? “Can you think of any reason you’re here? Did you hurt anyone? Steal from anyone? Anything?”

“I’ve never done anything,” he cries, “some misconduct at my job, that’s it. You think someone would at least tell you why they kidnapped you.”

“I can’t think of anything either,” I say truthfully.

I look at him, try to think if I know him, or if I had even ever seen him before today. I hadn’t. “Any chance you recognize me?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Alright, we’re two innocent strangers. I guess it’s just random. Pick the first person they happen to get, but for what?”

I look around as much as I can. The ceiling is high and I can’t see any walls. There is a spotlight high over head illuminating us. All my hooves can feel are the edges of the armrest. I can’t hear anything beyond my own breathing and the attempted movements of my newfound companion. What could have brought us here? Is this torture? Is there some psychotic force that brought us together? Whatever the answer is, I can feel in my gut that someone’s going to die. Hopefully not me.

“I just cut myself, I think! Something hard and sharp is around my stomach.”

I look back down at him; it’s a strain to keep my eyes pointed down so far. He’s staring at me, panicking, mouth wide open, and panting. I move my legs as much as I can.

“It feels like straps or something are holding down my front left leg and metal bands are around my right.”

“What the hay? What are they going to…”

A loud screech. Deafening sounds. Speakers crackle. A booming voice.

“Good evening. As you have no doubt discovered, you have been restrained and are now part of our little game. Between you is a table. On this table is a gun. In some time the restraints on your right arms will be released. The first to get the gun and kill the other will win their own life. An associate will put you to sleep and you will be released, a free man. The other will be disposed of and you will never be bothered again. If neither of you shoot the gun within five minutes of your restraints being released, a lethal electric current will be sent through your chairs killing you both, quite painfully in fact. It’s better for one to live than both to die.”

Silence. We wait for the restraint to be released. It doesn’t come.

“What the buck, Rose?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait. Maybe they want us to get to know the pony we have to kill.”

“I don’t want to kill anypony! But I sure as hay don’t want to die!”

I yelled, “Well, would you rather kill me or die!? That’s the important question! Is your life worth the death of someone else? Could you live your life knowing that you murdered somepony just so you can live?”

“No...” he said “I’d rather die than kill somepony, but I’d rather live and not kill even more!”

“I feel the same, Felix, but unless you think we could untie ourselves in five minutes with only one hand…”

He was silent for a moment, then started whispering. “Yeah? What if we could?”

“What?” I yelled, “How can we trust that we actually have five minutes? How can I trust in you? If I reach over to untie myself, how do I know you won’t go for the gun?”

“Like I said! I’d rather die than kill somepony. A shot at us both living is better than the alternative.”

“I guess it’s the only way to not be a murderer.” I smile, even though he can’t see me, “I trust you, you can trust in me too.”

So that’s our plan, we’ll attempt to free ourselves and hope we can do it in time. I know I’m not going to be getting anything off that table before I free myself, and I really think that Felix won’t try to kill me. I start going over plans to get myself free. Would it be easier to undo the other leg first? Would I need to see my legs to free it? If not I would need to remove my head restraint so I could look, but could I do it with only one hoof? I decide that when the time came I would just go with my instinct.

“It feels like there are three straps on each limb, one on my head, one under my shoulders and one around my waist.”

“So not counting the ones on the front right leg, that’s,” Felix thought for a second, “twelve straps? Or belts? Whatever they are, I’m sure we have enough time.”

We wait.

“So, you got a family or anything Rose?

“No, not really,” I say. “My parents are around and I see them every once in a while. I have a few friends, no one really close though. You?”

“I have a wife and a kid, and the rest of the family. I really want to get back to them. I just got a new job, planning on getting a house. Things are going pretty well. Why did this have to happen now?”

“Why does this have to happen at all? Why are people so fond of death?”

The life of somepony like me against somepony like him didn’t seem fair. I still want to live though. I don’t want to kill him, but I’m not going to offer myself as a sacrifice so that he can live. The only thing a reasonable pony would do is our plan. We talk for a while. He tells me about where he grew up, what he does for a living, how he met his wife, about how wonderful his daughter is. He starts getting choked up and I take over. I talk about just anything, work, friends, my plans in life. We keep talking about the lives we very well might lose until we can’t bear to talk about it anymore. We wait for what seems like an hour in silence. Still, nothing happens.

Felix started yelling “Hey! Come on! We gonna sit here all day?”

Nothing in reply but silence.

Felix is shaking, as much as he could anyway. “I want to see my kid again. I want to get out of here.”

“Felix, just relax. Think about how you’re going to get out of here, think about getting your other leg free, your head, your chest."

“Alright, alright. I’m cool.” He doesn’t seem cool.

We wait some more. Every time I look down, Felix seems worse. I try talking to him, get him out of his own head, but he won’t talk back. I wait a while, hoping that we can both be free of this accursed game. As I look at him, it feels to me that I’ve been here for years, just sitting here, looking across this table. Eventually he starts muttering, but I can hear him.

“We just assume that we can get out of here. They could have us locked in. They could have people kill us the minute we walk out. I don’t even know where we are. Could be the middle of the desert or Zafrica for all I know. Hay, there could be someone six feet to the left and I wouldn’t know. They could be listening in the whole time and know what we plan to do. I don’t even know what’s holding me down. They might have to cut me out of here and there’s no way to get out with just my one hand. Someone has to die, and it sure as hay won’t be me.”

“Felix,” I try to reassure him, “focus. Focus on getting out. No one has to die. I know it. You have to know it too. Twelve straps, that’s it. We walk out, finally free.”

Click.

Restraint is released. I lift my front right leg to the belt that’s on my head and start to undo it.

I see Felix reach across the table, I know I can’t win.

“Sorry Rose, I have a family. I’ve got more to live for than you!”

“Don’t do this! There’s plenty of time! Don’t go home to your family a murderer!”

“Buck you.”

The belt on my head is loose, I look down quickly. His hoof is waving back and forth on the table trying to find the gun. It’s not there.

“Five years,” I say standing up, reaching for the kill switch. “Five years of endless variations, and they always reach for the gun.”

Before I click the button, I decide to tell him something.  "And Felix," I begin.  "My name isn't Rose."  I flick the switch, and he screams.  The sound of electricity fills the room.  "My name is Celestia."

Funny Mouth

Another boring day in school when suddenly... he walked in.

"Hello everyone. I am Funny Mouth.  I like to lick the blood out of in the person.  I see your handsome face, don't be so sad about it."  

Nopony said a word after that.  Actually, right after he said that, he just walked out of the classroom.  The teacher wasn't in the room, so she wasn't there to see that.  

After school, I went to go talk to my friend, Jorge

"Holy buck, what the hay!" he said to me.

"Did that actually happen?" I asked.

"Yes, Skull. Yes it did."  

The first thing I should probably note is that I'm Lemon Lime.  He calls me skull because that's my nickname.

That was the first time I saw or heard from "funnymouth", and for all intents and purposes, it should've been the last. Anyone who's spent enough time in school knows that weirdos come and go. Folks pop in for a week or two, then suddenly move away.  

What first struck me as odd about the Funny Mouth guy, however, was the fact that he came and went with no particular GOAL. He didn't try to piss anyone off.  He just walked into a random classroom, and said... that.  

He just stuck his head in, rattled off some insane words, and happily bucked off.

"So really though, what the hay?"  I ask.

"Not a clue."  he replies

I glance over, and I see that Funny Mouth kid.  He's a pale gray colt, with white hair.  

"He's just over there if you want to go ask him what his deal is."  I tell him.

"I do not sir. I'll just wait for you."  He walks over to a bench, and sits down.  I chuckle a bit, call him a wuss, and go towards Funny Mouth (Who even came up with that name?)

I don't know what results I expected from following this pony. I'm not the type that goes out of his way to annoy or argue with people. I'll usually avoid it at all costs, though, once someone starts with me I don't mind getting into it at THAT point.

I guess what I'm saying is I have no idea why I pursued this.

I casually walk up to him, and say the first thing that pops into my head, "Hey there."  

He doesn't say anything.  He sits there and stares at me.  The situation is a little awkward, but I manage to pull off a little smile.  

"So... you're staring at me.  That's rude."  I say.

"Sorry,"  Funny Mouth says. "I just do it.  It's okay."

"I see."  this conversation is becoming incredibly strange.

He just kept staring at me.  

I actually chuckled out loud at this point. He was weird and inoffensive.  

"You can come and hang out with my friend and I.  If you want,"  I offer him my kindness.  Maybe that's all he really wants.  A friend. He just kept staring at me. "Or not."

He's still staring.

"Whatever, man, you just seemed interesting and I've got nothing better to do today."

"I am bored tonight too."  he says. "I always don't."

"...You always don't what?"

"I always dont thats it!"  He suddenly starts to yell.  I can feel the eyes of a dozen more fillies and colts looking directly towards us. "I always dont because they dont and theeennnn.  I get silly."  The way he said 'then' scared me.  

I needed to get away from this guy.  "O-kay. Well, seeya around."  I turned around, and kept walking towards Jorge.  I still felt Funny Mouth's eyes on me.  

"What happened over there?"  

"I don't even know anymore.  I seriously don't know what he was saying." Jorge didn't say anything in return.

"What's sad is that, he seems like he doesn't have any friends here."  

Later that day, I was attending a hoof-ball game when I saw Funny Mouth again.  I was waiting in line for a bathroom, when I noticed he was in the bathroom as well.  Creepers have to go as well, apparantly.

I physically slumped my shoulders with a "not this again" sigh.  That's when I noticed... nopony else could see him.  He was there, but nopony paid attention to him.  He was standing in line, staring at me, while ponies just took his place.  I was about to protest, but he didn't seem to care.  

After a few minutes of sitting there with a really cold, creepy feeling in my stomach... that "I shouldn't have done something" feeling... I decided to stop trying to brave it out and just walked out of the bathroom.

Sure, I COULD have just hung out like everything was fine, but why bother try to prove I wasn't spooked? Hay, nobody was even around to see me slink away.

I had to hold in the pee that I held inside me, and I walked home.  Then I went straight to sleep.

One thing I've always prided myself on is that I do NOT have nightmares. At least not regularly. Usually, if there are monsters or ghosts or nuclear wars in my dream, I get to control it and I have a great time. I'm shooting zombies in the face, outright telling ghosts they're not real while I laugh at them, and if there's some disaster, I always know how to get to the safe spot while every other pony fries.

I've had maybe four ACTUAL nightmares in the past ten years, and yes I'm completely serious.

The first nightmare of my  life was eight years ago, when I was really young. I'd just been rejected by the mare that I was infatuated with. That night, when I finally DID get to sleep, I dreamt she was strapped down to a medical table while some sort of unseen, inexplicable creature sucked her brain out through an organic machine.

The brain screamed. Ceaselessly.

The second nightmare had me visiting a medical facility where they were experimenting with new methods of saving lives. There was a fantastic tour of this high-tech facility, lots of wonders of modern science, people in lab coats, etc. then, I was lead to a room where three car crash victims had been "saved" by their techniques. This included a slowly rocking young filly whose face had been completely distended and hung next to her neck and a woman who was nothing but a cluster of twitching severed limbs, all held together by a drawn-out, kite-like span of flesh.

The third came soon after the second. I was being accosted by two ponies - one who wanted to insult me to no end, and the other who kept trying to poke and tweak me in absurdly ineffective ways. Thinking I could control this dream like others, I set the two men against each other, thinking it would be a sort of poetic justice.

Instead, the pincher became increasingly violent until he was punching the other's cheeks, grabbing his tongue with his unicorn magic and furiously pulling at it until it came out... Then he pulled the fellow's eyelids until they distended in some sort of grotesque prolapse.

I suppose what I'm getting at is that even when I DID have nightmares, I was never the actual target of any sort of horror. It's always been a kind of empathetic horror related to someone else getting brutalized.

This night, however, was different. As soon as I fell asleep, I started dreaming. Basically, it was a recurring dream I have where I'm in the woods, just checking out animals and birds and generally acting chill. I lie in the grass and look up at the sky. It's always a dream I welcome, because even if I've had a bad day, I'll wake up happy and ready to start over.

This time, the script changed. I laid in the grass... but while I was staring at the sky, I felt something odd.

It was a cold, squirming feeling on my neck.

In the dream, I reached to my neck and pulled away a long, writhing earth worm. Earth worms disgust me. If I see one in the yard, I'll specifically get a shovel and heap dirt over it simply so I don't accidentally SEE it again.

Disgusted, but more or less content, I flung the worm aside and continued my dream.

Then... that feeling again. Clammy, wet, wiggling against the side of my neck.

I pulled another worm away.

Again, it happened.

The third time, the feeling of confusion and dread became so overwhelming that I immediately snapped myself out the dream. That's what usually happens when crap gets real in my dreams. Game over.

I figured it out, though. At least, I thought I had. In the waking world, I felt my neck and discovered a slick, slimy film on my skin. Logic dictated that I must've been drooling in my sleep. Nothing to be proud of, but not exactly terrifying, either. My dreaming mind must've translated the icky feeling into an appropriate creature in the forest dream.

Perhaps more unsettling, though, was the fact that the bed around me seemed to have indentations. Four, to be exact. It was almost as if somepony had been hovering over me as I slept.

There was any number of reasons that could've happened... but from then on that night, I slept very lightly. Any little thing, like the sound of a ceiling fan, would wake me up straight away. I had no real interest in going back to the woods that night.

When morning came around, I got ready to go to school.  But as I was walking out the door, my mother stopped me.  

"Lemon, you got a letter today."  She handed it to me, and walked out the door.  Off to work for her.

I had the feeling that I knew who sent me the letter.  I opened with one of moms letter openers.

Surprise!

Dear Lemon Lime

          i had a good time to talk to you it can b fun aagain youll see what.  i dont like stop it

One thing that bugs me like nothing else, is when somepony constantly ignores grammar and spelling.  It's one of my biggest peeves.

As you probably recall, I hadn't given this weirdo my mail address. However, logicial answer, someone else must have. He obviously asked someone who I was, and that douche bag completely betrayed me, knowing I don't give out my personal info.

Even though I well and truly KNEW I was taking some sort of bait, I responded.

Dear Funny Mouth

Uhhhm, yeah bro. Not exactly sure I want you e-mailing me.

It was clear and to the point. There was no mistaking the message I was sending, and though it was snippy, I wasn't goading him into replying by starting a flame war.

But, of course...

Dear Lemon Lime

come on

dont be so sad about it

i know u can like it we will have fun a lot of the time

its okay even

I got rid of the letters.  Even if I saw him at school the next day, I wouldn't bother giving him a second glance. Really, I should've done that in the first place, but I still had some sick sort of interest in exactly where this was going. Maybe if I put my foot down, he would admit he was just screwing around and call me a humorless wet blanket. When I saw it was just the same old bullcrap, that gave me the green light to go ahead and shut the guy out.

For what it's worth, you can relax at this point. There was no follow-up message.

After a few minutes, I assured myself that was all over and I went about my day. It wasn't until I got home at dusk that the cold, squirming feeling in my stomach started all over again... and I had no idea WHY.

Well, that's not entirly true. I had SOME idea.

I checked my e-mail.

Nothing from "Funny Mouth", however there WAS a letter from Jorge.

Dear Lemon Lime

Hey.

My parents are going to be gone for the weekend.  Is it cool if I stay at your place?

Peace & Carrots,

Jorge

I quickly replied to him that it would be okay, I just had to ask my mom about it.  

And with that, I went to school.  

When I returned home from school, I got all of these.

Dear Lemon Lime

i see ur handsome face

Dear Lemon Lime

helo buddie

Dear Lemon LIme

come on

Dear Lemon LIme

helo

Dear Lemon Lime

heleo helo ehelo

Dear Lemon LIme

i dont want to not

Dear Lemon Lime

i dont think about it please though

Dear Lemon Lime

i see ur handsome face

And the last letter had... some picture of a face.

There was this bloated, tongue-wagging face looking back at me with its empty eye sockets.

Then, I don't know how I missed it in the first place...

Looking closely, the picture of that face wasn't really pixelated. It was made of tiny letters.

Over and over again, the word that made up the image was right in front of me. "funnymouthfunnymouthfunnymouthfunnymouth" in a great cluster of nonsense.

I felt like spitting on the paper.

I set about writing an incredibly profane and threatening letter. I didn't really care if I hurt his feelings or whatever, I just wanted to get everything off my chest so I could feel like I was in control of the situation again.

Before I could finish the letter... I just got this weird, creepy feeling again. That "No, it couldn't be..." feeling where you know you're being absurd, but at the same time you know you're right...

I stopped hacking out my death threats.

Dear Funny Mouth

BUCKING STOP!!

I was getting a stress headache. My heart was pounding, not from fear - but rage. This was probably the most absurdly infuriating pony - and that's saying a lot.

Thankfully, the string of letters did indeed stop.

I tried to calm myself down, breathing deeply, but it didn't seem to take. I was still incredibly pissed. Slowly, methodically, I sent him another note.

From: Charles Watts <[email protected]> Sat, Nov 17, 2012 at 7:21 PM

To: [email protected]

Hi.

I don't understand what you are saying and I do not understand what you want. I think there may be a language barrier. Is your first language English?

If you are mad at me, I did not intend this to happen. You may have misunderstood what I said, or what I meant.

Thank you, Lemon Lime

I waited.

I thought about how I'd conquered my anger, and that this measured response was really the best way to go about it. This fellow would understand what I meant. He'd realize the mistake he made.

I calmed down. Everything was going to be okay.

Then...

Dear Lemon Lime

O)_(O

I hit the roof.

I hit the Celestia damned roof and went clear through it.

I went on a temper tantrum around my house.  My mother wasn't home, but she would be incredibly pissed to see the house like this.  And my friend had to stay for the weekend.  I cleaned everything up after my little episode.

For as long as I could manage the energy, I laid waste to my own stuff. I would've started a fire and burned the bucking place down if I had a lighter on hand.

That night, I stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity before sleep came.

Waiting for sleep, I knew I was going to have a nightmare. I just KNEW it. That was how my luck was going. Imagine how surprised I was, even in sleep, when instead of some horrific setting, I was someplace safe...

The woods.

I laid in the grass again. I felt the relaxation. I knew, even my subconscious knew, that everything would be okay. No matter what setbacks life threw at me, the world would go on. Nothing was permanent. Everything was in transition. Nopony could REALLY get to me.

I felt the squirming against my neck.

Nope. No dice. Nothing could spoil this right now. I ignored the worm. It would go away.

I felt the squirming move to my mouth. Now, I couldn't will myself awake. Every other time, I'd been able to decide to wake up... but it seemed like that opportunity had now passed.

Then, it wasn't a worm. It was a severed hoof. Then another. Then more until four slimy, squirming hooves were locked around my head, clutching my lower jaw.

It didn't hurt when it happened.

It was just... sort of like a "pop". More pressure than pain.

It was quick and before I even knew what was going on, it was over.

I then managed to force myself awake. I sat up and got to my feet in complete darkness. Feeling my way around the walls, I made my way into the bathroom. There, I finally flicked a light switch.

I stood before the mirror, rubbing my eyes as the harsh light blinded me.

I stared into the mirror for minutes on end with no reaction. No feelings. No thoughts.

Then I smiled.

I smiled as best I could, now that my jaw was completely broken, hanging loose around my neck. My tongue lolled out listlessly, like a paralyzed, gooey slug.

My teeth weren't rooted in anything but threads of flesh, and I could pull them out by hoof with about the same discomfort as a needle prick.

I laughed, the halting sound coming out like the gurgle of a backed-up sewer drain.

What a handsome face!

What a funny mouth!

A funnymouth!

A funnymouth funnymouth funnymouth!

I turned around, and I saw Funny Mouth with the same kind of mouth as me.  "Now we both are Funny Mouth!"


"Hello.  I see your handsome face.  You don't need to be so upset about it."

"What the buck man, how did you get in my house?"  

I stared at him, and so did Funny Mouth.  He was going to become one of us, and it was going to be the best thing ever.  We walked closer to him.

"What are you guys doi-"

Just a "Nightmare"

You awoke in a cold sweat from your dream, looking around the dim room with a fright. You didn’t remember anything that happened in it except for a loud BANG! at the end, but you passed it off as just a nightmare.

It had been a recurring nightmare you’ve had for the past few days now. You slowly arose from your bed, preparing your lunch for the day before heading off to work, stopping at a local store to pick up a little something along the way.

You were a royal guard.  A good one at that.  

Your name is Flash Sentry.

As you walk, you reflected on your life before now. How your life-partner, Twilight Sparkle, had recently passed away from an unknown cancer. How your children had recently graduated from college and now were living on their own with a decent paying job and a date as well. You felt happy and proud of them, but you couldn’t help but feel a certain feeling inside. It was like a sickness. It was a feeling of despairing emptiness.

You went to your usual guarding position that overlooked the Canterlot Gardens.  You armed yourself with your spear, and overlooked the beautiful sight.

At least... it used to be.  Now, it was just another thing that you see every single day.  And it didn't help that not a single thing happened.  It was a simple job, and the only thing that ever happened, every day, was your replacement coming to swap you out so you could go eat your lunch.  

As you walked to the mess hall, you met up with somepony.  Aurust, a co-worker and a close friend here, waited for you at the lunch line. He greeted you happily as you walked over to him, adjusting his brown glasses. You liked Aurust; he was a pleasure to chat with, at least at first. But the dullness settled in quickly as well.

The two of you always ended up talking on the same subjects and discussions during every lunch hour. You were afraid to admit it to him, that he was becoming boring. That everything was, in fact. But you were afraid of how he would react to that, that he just as might care too much over to you. You didn’t want to shock and surprise him too much. He did, however, speculate that you were becoming increasingly more empty and bitter, but you always assured him that you were fine and he stopped pursuing his questions.

After a few minutes of this worthless congregation, you set off to eat your lunch for today. It was always the same thing every day: a ham sandwich with a banana. Sometimes you brought a soda; other times it was a mere water bottle. A few years ago, back when your loved one was still roaming Equestria, she would sometimes throw in something else. Even if it was just as something as plain and simple as a pickle, you always were in delight over it. It was a break from the same food every day.

Nowadays, you didn’t have enough time to throw in a little something extra. But you were certain that you had quite a surprise for the day. You consumed your sandwich very quickly without hesitation with your fruit to follow. Nopony seemed to notice how fast you were eating your food. It was almost too easy, you thought. This is when you usually returned to your guarding positioning.

From your bag, you withdrew a small handgun you had just picked up from your last paycheck earlier that morning.

Nopony noticed it for a few seconds before another co-worker panicked at the sight of the revolver. Some of them begged you to stop, reaching out to you. They were trying to talk you into not doing it. You barked at them, making empty threats that you would shoot anybody that gets within touching distance. You felt bad about it; you were really a nice and caring pony. One of them quickly ran towards the princess, saying that they were going to get you help. You didn’t care.

The dullness, the melancholy, the emptiness; it all had to end.

You looked at the crowd, Aurust standing at the front. He pleaded to you, begging you to consider your thoughts and actions. He offered to help you if you were to listen to him. Without saying a word to him, you open your mouth and placed the pistol inside of it. You heard the masses scream before your vision faded to black as you pulled the trigger.

—

You awoke in a cold sweat from your dream, looking around the dim room with a fright. You didn’t remember anything that happened in it except for a loud BANG! at the end, but you passed it off as just a nightmare. It had been a recurring nightmare you’ve had for the past few days now. You slowly arose from your bed, preparing your lunch for the day before heading off to work, stopping at a local store to pick up a little something along the way…

Lessons From the Shadows of Rarity and Sweetie Belle

“Rarity, why do they hate us?”

“Oh Sweetie, it may seem like they hate us but really it is more like they chose us.”

“But Rarity, I didn’t want to be picked!”

“Neither did I pumpkin, but unfortunately it is the will of greater men and a greater Celestia. This will be the last solar war Equestria will see. There is an old saying that one must destroy before they can create. It is like when you play with your Lego blocks. Once you build something don’t you have to take it apart in order to build something bigger and better? It is the same thing with men and cities.”

“Couldn’t they have picked other cities?”

“They have sister, many others. But we have been chosen because we just consume too much. There isn’t enough food and materials to go around anymore. And because of that there is too much evil in Equestria now. You know how scary it can be when you come to the market with me."

“Yes, Rarity.”

“Now, it’s been nine minutes since the sirens have gone off, I want you to be brave. We are going to be immortal after today. That means we are going to live forever. No more pain, no more hunger, no more hurt. That doesn’t sound so bad now does it? It’s time for us to tell each other goodbye…I love you so much my little sister. I am so proud of you. Now let’s grab our signs and head outside.”

The Belle sisters straps their hollow-stenciled signs over their back and above their head. As they position themselves in front of a large, immobile marble slab, they clasp hooves in a row and close their eyes. The tears rolling down their cheeks evaporate immediately, as do their bodies, once the nuclear blast reaches them. Their permanent shadows burn against the marble, leaving a message for the survivors of the Great Reduction, “We Forgive You. Lest Not Be In Vain.”

Credit To – StupidDialUp

Never Again

I was seventeen when she came. I’d been living with my abusive mother for seventeen long, painful years. It was around midnight, and my mother was already asleep, so when the three soft raps at the front door came it was me who answered. An odd looking little filly stood there.  She was orange, had purple hair, pale cheeks, and black eyes. Fathomless, deep black eyes. She seemed to have been crying very hard. I quickly let her in, getting her out of the rain outside. It wasn’t until later I’d wonder why she’d not been shivering, or even question as to why she was here in the first place. I got her into the living room, wrapping her little form in a thick afgan my grandmother knitted. She held it, though it didn’t seem to affect her, and I smiled.

“What’s your name, sweety?”

A long silence passed, in which she stared at me. I was beginning to be discomforted by her black gaze when she parted her lips and spoke in a soft voice.

“Scootaloo.”

I nodded, smiling again.

“You can stay here tonight, Scootaloo.” I said, motioning to the couch. She curled up in a little ball, black eyes still on me, and I exited the room. That night I slept soundly, not worrying about my mother beating me or the strange little girl on my couch.

When morning came and I trudged into the kitchen, I was greeted with a coffee mug to the shoulder. I gave a feeble shout of pain, staring at my mother.

“What the hay did you do? Why is there dirt on the couch?!” she shouted, confusing me greatly. Upon investigating, I found that Scootaloo had vanished, the only proof she’d been there being some dirt that must have fallen off of her. I took responsibility, earning myself a strong hit to my cheek, then left for school. While there I heard something that sent chills through my spine.

“Scootaloo was found dead last night.”

I passed the day waiting for anymore news on the subject, but found none. Upon arriving home, the news was broadcasting a live report on her though.

“Scootaloo, six years of age, was reported dead at seven last night. Her body was located in the backyard, buried there. So far there has been no sign of her mother, Mari, who is suspected to be the killer. Mari has reportedly abused Scootaloo multiple times, and may be responsible for her death.”

Suddenly, a picture of Scootaloo appeared on the screen. She appeared very close to how she had when I met her, orange body, purple hair. Only, her cheeks had color… and her eyes were purple, much like her hair. To most this would seem unimportant, but to me it was. She’d died before arriving at my house, if what the news castor said was true. Died hours before. I tried to play it off, going about my buisness. I went to bed early so as not to have to see my mother. It was around midnight when I awoke to cool hooves stroking the bruise on my cheek. I sighed, leaning into the small hoof.

“Never again.” Scootaloo whispered, before her hoof vanished. Not ten minutes later I heard my mother screaming. I rushed into her bedroom, nearly fainting at what I saw.

My mom was thrashing wildly on her bed, a small creature having buried its face into her chest. I could hear the soung of flesh tearing, and my mother’s screaming increased in volume. I wished I hadn’t gotten up. Later on, I’d tell myself I hadn’t. But I had. So, when  pull back from the gaping hole in my mother’s chest cavity, I had a plain view of her razor sharp teeth, glinting in the light. Glinting with my mother’s blood. She smiled innocently at me for a moment, before swiftly tearing out my mother’s jugular. That time I did faint. When I came to, I was in my bed. I walked to my mom’s room, morbid curiousity getting the best of me. Upon opening the door, I found the room empty. The bed made neatly, as if my mom had left for work early. The only oddities were the dirty foals hoofprints, and the open window, showing that Scootaloo had in fact visited. I never saw my mother again, and I never missed her either. I eventually got married, and we had a child together. I named her Scootaloo. She even looks like her to.  Purple hair, orange body, purple eyes.  She's been hanging out with two other fillies.  They've even begun their own club.  

Recently, I noticed the neighbors daughter has all sorts of scrapes and bruises on her legs. I’ve started watching their home. And the other day I saw something odd: a little girl running through their back yard up to their backdoor. It was around midnight, so I couldn’t be for sure, but I thought she met my eyes with her black ones. And I could swear she mouthed two words at me.

Never agai

That Wasn't Silver Spoon

My name is Diamond Tiara.  

I’m afraid to look outside at night.  I guess some ponies are.  It’s just paranoia, right?  You don’t want to look outside your window and come face-to-face with a monster.  But again, it’s just paranoia, right?  You’ve been reading too many scary stories before you go to bed.  Well, let me just tell you that you have a reason to be scared.

This is what happened a few days ago.  

On a cold winter night, I was glancing outside my window to see what the weather is like, or some completely different reason, I can’t remember why.  Regardless my reason, I was not expecting anypony to be standing on thin air outside my window.  

I look down at my book, it’s getting late.  It’s getting late.  It’s just me and my friend Silver Spoon at home.  We were having a little sleep over.  I looked over to her, and saw that she was already fast asleep.  I should have gone to sleep too, but I was really curious about this scary story that I found in my dads room.  

I saw a shadow in my peripheral vision and I immediately shifted my eyes towards the window.  I see nothing.  I’m relieved.  I was going to keep reading the book, but I heard a loud thud on my window.  I shifted my eyes back to the window; a bit more scared this time.  I was right to be scared.  

I saw Silver Spoons body hanging out the window.  I was horrified.  It was then that I realized that Silver was in her bed just a minute ago.  

I looked over and saw somepony lying there.  That’s not my friend.

Whispers

I’m writing this tonight in the hope that it will clear up the misunderstandings surrounding the disappearance of Sugar Caine, at the risk of my personal ridicule. Sticks and stones and all that. None of it will matter after tonight. Consider this my one pathetic attempt at an apology, if nothing else. It’s sort of my fault what happened.

Even in her heyday, public speaker Sugar Caine was just another comedian. She was funnier than average and certainly skilled with a pen, but otherwise no more remarkable than the rest. For years the circumstances surrounding her disappearance were only occasionally mentioned. She would’ve been forgotten forever if those construction workers hadn’t found the tape recorder last Monday.

Sugar Caine was a boyishly cute redhead. Her sister Grace Caine described her as, “…a bag fulla fists, nails, and opinions just looking for an excuse to burst open on somepony, nourished by beer and spite since our Papa died twelve years ago.”

Sugar unintentionally began her career as a speaker for smaller audiences when she let her friends talk her into speaking for an elderly home. She thought speakers were self-absorbed, whiny, and without substance, and thus used this opportunity to parody the asinine ramblings of her peers. After a while she graduated to belittling popular culture and occasionally reviewing books, comics, movies, and whatever hate mail she received from her growing audience.

She quickly realized people enjoyed her speaking, and by mid-2005 she’d ditched her speaking and set up her own spot on the local newspaper. Despite Sugar's more-than-decent writing the newspaper article was mediocre at best. Most ponies likely never knew she existed, much less that she’d vanished and possibly been murdered.

Until the construction workers found the tape.

Sugar Caine never failed to celebrate whatever holidays and festivals came its way, and its seasonal articles were usually the most eagerly anticipated. Sugar composed surprisingly witty drinking songs for her Nightmare Night review, and a touching poem for Father’s Day that she refused to talk about afterward. For her 2005 Hearth's Warming rant she wrote a series of parodied Bible passages that broke her weekly hate mail record overnight.

Back then I was known as DeadAtFifty, another newspaper comedian and counted among Sugar Caines regular readers. During the first week of October 2006 I suggested that she spend the night in the Daley family’s haunted house and write about the experience for her Nightmare Night article. She announced to her readers that I was a child and a moron. I added a one-thousand-bit prize to the mix. She eagerly accepted.

On the last week of October Sugar announced she would make the hour-long drive to the Daley house for a “spooky sleepover”. She embarked on the evening of the 29th, encouraging her readers to “Stay tuned for the details of my thousand-bit journey through the haunted Daley house!” The newspaper would release the article on Halloween. I had every intention of awarding her the money, and I never would’ve mentioned the Daleys if I had known what would happen.

Sugar always researched her subject before or after her “journeys” (as she called any experience she talked about — “Stay tuned for the dirt on my journey through the latest Scorsese flick”), if only to make her praise/mockery of it all the more complete. In her apartment the police found stacks of newspaper clippings about the Daley family as far back as 1960: praise for Daley and the lives he saved as a firefighter; his marriage to sweetheart Sisalee in 1970; the birth of their son, Jeff in 1971; Jeff’s growing fame as an abstract artist at only twelve months of age; the rumors that Sisalee deliberately dropped her son down the stairs and caused his borderline autism; and of course, the fruitless search for the bodies when the family vanished in 1982.

The bulk of the articles were testimonies from neighbors and friends about the last they saw of the Daleys. Jeff’s performance at school dwindled, but the work he produced in art class was as detailed as ever, depicting macabre realms of twisted abstract shapes and looming shadows — imagery he hadn’t produced since he was a toddler. He claimed that the “whisperers” made him draw these things. His only explanation for a “whisperer” was, “they follow me around my house — I can’t see them, but I know they’re there.”

I don’t think Jeff Daley was dreaming: I think his subconscious was a doorway to other worlds, and maybe his mother knew it and tried to kill him. If that’s the case, I wish she’d been just a little more persistent.

Daley's coworkers described him as “nervous, constantly on edge, like he was being followed by a lunatic and couldn’t shake him.” Sisalee, normally known to greet her tavern’s patrons with bright smiles and warm hellos, seemed to have crawled into a shell and refused to come out. She took frequent bathroom breaks, only to curl up inside a toilet cubicle and cry with her hands over her ears. And then one day Jeff never showed at school, and his parents never showed at work. They’d vanished into thin air; and according to their neighbors, they didn’t go quietly.

Other articles described strange but seemingly unremarkable sights and sounds on the abandoned Daley property from 1989 to 2004. A few of those articles were so strange they were considered hoaxes or gross exaggerations.

A neighbor’s dog ran barking under the Daley porch. When it returned it spent the next two days whining and cowering and howling miserably for no reason. One morning the owners woke up and found the dog missing. It was never seen again. A young couple claimed a silhouette in the shadows of the front yard whispered something at them as they walked past the house late one night. They couldn’t tell if there was somepony there or not, and when they continued their walk the shape stalked them for several blocks before vanishing altogether.

Several mailmen gave identical accounts of hearing movement and gibbering voices inside the house while on their routes. One assumed it was the local pranksters and alerted the police. They never found anyone inside the house.

Earlier this week the construction workers were preparing the house for demolition when they discovered the recorder under an old desk. Remembering the house’s history of missing persons, they turned it over to the police. The officer who received it — a friend of mine whose name will go unmentioned — had at one time been a Sugar Caine fan. I spent an entire evening listening to the tape at his place. To help spread this story around the web I’ve prepared a transcript of the recording for my own article, which you can read below.

[Tape begins with fifteen seconds of silence. Broken by husky female voice.] “Don’t think I’ve ever been to this side of town before. Had to stop at a diner and get directions ‘cos I managed to get my stupid flank lost. Supposed to be an hour long walk, but it’ll be close to midnight by the time I find this dump. “Oh, I told the lady I was coming to visit an old friend who lived in the Daleys’ neighborhood and she was happy to help me find my way. Imagine I won’t be well received if I go around telling everybody I’m spending my weekend breaking into other people’s houses. Even if the Daleys are too dead to give a s**t.”

[Silence for eight seconds. A sigh.]

“I feel silly going through with this. On the plus side I’ll get to pay my rent for the next month.”

“It is now…eleven p.m. on the dot. Took me forever to find the stupid house. Kept turning down the wrong streets. Hard to miss it once you find the right one. The front yard is a jungle of wiry vines and three-foot grass infested with species of insects never before seen by pony. You can’t even see the front door from the street this late at night ‘cos the shadows gulped it up.

“Gonna find a window to climb through. Hopefully won’t need to pick the back door ‘cos that’ll take forever. More as it develops.”

[Hollow hoofsteps on old wooden boards. A series of distorted thuds as the recorder rattles violently. Silence for sixteen seconds.]

“Tripped. Ow…It’s pitch black in here. Where’s my damn—?”

[Quiet shuffling for the next minute, and more hoofsteps. Sugar releases an exhausted breath. Tape rattles slightly.]

“Okay, I’m in. My camp is set up in the…I guess this was the office. There’s a dusty old desk next to the window I just climbed through and a bookcase to the right of the door. Both are bare. I’m about to take my tour of the house. Camera ready, although this place isn’t much to look at. Keeping the flash off, so the pics might need to be tweaked when I get back. I ought to keep the flashlight off and just let my eyes adjust, but…yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”

[Two minutes of silence apart from hoofsteps and the occasional electronic shutter sound of a digital camera taking pictures. A cough.]

“The house is a really roomy two-story deal. Oh, there you are, you elusive stairs…The carpet’s been all torn up except for one corner of the living room, so the floor’s all crusty wooden boards.”

[Hoofsteps. Loud, Diamond dog-like shriek of pain from the rusty hinges of a door. Sugar lets out a startled gasp, curses.]

“…a moldy bathroom untouched since nineteen eighty-two…”

[Several coughs as the camera clicks. More squeaking hinges, significantly quieter. More camera clicks.]

“Ugh, Celestiadamn wolf spiders everywhere!”

[Seven minutes pass with hoofsteps, camera clicks, and Sugar’s coughs the only sounds; halfway through, hollow thunks of boots on wooden stairs, and hoofsteps change to loud, unhealthy creaks. Now and then Sugar makes various comments on the house’s layout.]

“[unintelligible muttering] —dust in this place is murdering me. Second floor is rickety as tartarus. Here’s hoping the building doesn’t collapse on me in the night.”

[Hollow thunks again as she returns to the first floor. At the ten minute mark, dead silence for approximately twenty seconds. Sugar exhales.]

“I think that’s it for the tour. I’m off to sleep with the spiders.”

[Silence for two minutes. Sugar whispers to herself inquisitively. Wooden clunking.]

“Found a loose board in the office floor. ‘Previously-pried-up’ loose. I’ll have to check that out tomorrow morning.”

[Clomp of steel-hoof boots carelessly tossed onto wooden floor. Rustling of thick cloth. Coughing.]

“Ah, Celestia, I can’t breathe in this place…Awright, time for bed. We’ll finish up our notes tomorrow. G’night!”

[Recorder rattles. Sugar begins to say something, only gets the first syllable before going quiet again. Silence for another minute.]

“There’s something in there…”

[Pit-pat of bare hooves. Silence. Door creaks shut. Rustling.]

“Buckin’ rats. I knew it. I hear ‘em scuttling in the living room walls. I shoulda brought a cot.”

[Exasperated sigh.]

“Okay, well, I won’t be sleeping tonight after all, so I’m pryin’ that board up to pass the time. More as it develops.”

[Recorder rattles as it is set aside. For the next five minutes there’s nothing but something metallic — possibly a Swiss army knife — scratching into wood, and occasionally a clunk. A gasp, and the clatter of a small object. Sugar’s bare hoofsteps move out of range. Another minute of silence. Sugar says something too far away to make out and seems to wait for a response. She repeats herself, louder.]

“Who’s there?”

[Nothing for a minute and a half. Creak of the office door closing. Pit-pat of bare hooves returns. The tape rattles.]

“I’m losing my mind. I could swear I heard—”

[Silence. The scratching and clunking returns, and moments later there’s a wooden clatter like a board being tossed aside.]

“Gotcha!”

[Paper rustling.]

“Um…”

[More paper rustling. Silence.]

“Um, there’s…drawings. Wadded drawings stuffed into this little space beneath the loose board. I think they’re Jeff Daley’s pictures. When he was five he used to draw his bad dreams to…No, these can’t be real. The detail is—?”

[Crumpling: wadded paper being unraveled and then flattened out. Sugar speaks quietly, almost inaudibly, as if reading something aloud to herself.]

“Don’t listen. It’s not Daddy. It’s not Daddy. It’s not…”

[Silence. A deep, trembling breath.]

“Okay, um…Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.”

[A distant sound, possibly out in the hall, and a shrill gasp. Two minutes and forty seconds of silence.]

“[incoherent mumbling] –not funny.”

[The sound again, within five feet of the recorder: a strange voice speaking almost above a whisper. It says a single word difficult to make out, but sounds like Sugar’s name. The recorder rattles violently as it hits the floor.]

“It’s not funny! Stop it!”

[Silence. Pit-pat of bare hooves leaving the room. Three minutes pass with no sounds except a periodic thump deep within the house and Sugar shouting angrily. The footsteps return. Heavy slam of the office door. Quiet sobbing within three feet of the recorder, and nothing else for another minute.]

“[speaking too quietly to register on the recorder: her throat has tightened up]” [The sobbing stops abruptly as Sugar holds her breath. The voice speaks again as quietly as before, from inside the room. Feet scrambling across the floor. The office window shrieks as it is torn open. The rest of the tape is silence.]

Sugar posted an update the same night. There was no trace of her usual snide narrative, and she exchanged punchy one-liners for razor-edged curses. She wanted somepony (me) to apologize to her for what she believed to be a perverse Halloween prank. She’d managed to keep one of the drawings she found under the loose floorboard and included a hi-resolution scan in her rant, condemning it as an obvious attempt by a barely capable adult artist to reproduce the work of an eight-year-old retard.

Drawn entirely in black crayon, it resembled a caricature of someone’s living room as done by Salvador Dali. At the center stood a dark shape with a grayish head misshapen like in a funhouse mirror, making it impossible to tell if it was supposed to be human or not. The thing stared right at the viewer over its shoulder with two empty black holes for eyes. Three more of the things stood beyond it, also staring at the viewer — it was as if the act of drawing the scene had grabbed their attention. Although their faces were amorphous mushes of white and gray, the three in the background seemed to be smiling. And it really did suggest a level of artistic finesse beyond that of an eight-year-old boy, but the style matched Jeff Daley’s other drawings.

Sugar and I both got our share of hate mail after that article. Half her readers thought I was an plothole for setting her up for such a nasty trick. The other half thought Sugar was pulling a hammed-up Nightmare Night prank of her own, and when her next two updates erratically described how the sounds in the Daley house had followed her home, everyone became all the more certain of this. They still believed it was a joke when she failed to make a single update for two weeks afterward.

On November 4th in the middle of the afternoon, Sugar had called her sister, Grace. She was blubbering so much Grace couldn’t understand a word she said at first.

“She let loose with the heartbroke drunk routine. Said she was sorry for missing my wedding, sorry for always being a spiteful b**ch when we were growing up, sorry for kicking our dog when she was twelve — apologizing for all kinds of silly stuff like a desperate sinner at confession.

“She stopped to catch her breath, and I heard somebody else in the room with her talking quiet like they didn’t want me to hear. I asked if she wanted me to come over. She started sobbing again and said, ‘I hear Daddy, but it isn’t Daddy.’ Then she hung up and I called the police. They didn’t find anybody when they got there. I was talking to her only minutes before.”

Most folks still think Sugar’s abduction by the whispering stalkers of Jeff Daley’s nightmares is a hoax orchestrated by Sugar or by some other sick individual. The tape has been “proven” a fake by one ignorant skeptic after another, and it won’t be long before Sugar Caine's newspaper articles fade into obscurity once again. I hope to prevent this, not because I feel pity for Sugar Caine, though I really do pity her; but because I hope to prevent others from vanishing like she vanished, and like the city workers who found the tape vanished, and like my friend vanished. They mark their territory — like they marked the Daley house and the tape — and they can smell anything that comes in contact with it. Once they smell you, they hunt you like bloodhounds until they’ve marked you, too.

They call to you softly like they’re afraid to talk too loud — sometimes two rooms away, sometimes right next to you. They imitate people you’re closest to. Maybe they think it’s funny. But you can’t listen to them. You have to shut them out, otherwise you’ll be too scared to open your eyes or move a muscle. You won’t have the chance to kill yourself before they'll drag you to whatever unholy hell Sugar Caine was taken to.

I have to go take a bath with my toaster now. Mother has been calling to me for the last hour, even though she’s been dead for five years.

-Credited to DeadAtFifty

Mommy, Can I?

“Oh thank you so much for coming at a late notice,” the woman said as soon as she answered the door.

“No problem, miss. It’s my job. What can I do for you?” I replied naturally with a smile.

“Well my sink’s been acting up lately. I’ve tried fixing it myself but it’s no good. Please, come in. I’ll show you the way.” She stepped aside, making a gesture to invite me in. I nodded with a smile, ready to provide service as usual. She led me into the living room.

“My son is sleeping in his room. Can I ask you to try to keep it quiet?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll do my best.” I couldn’t help but notice that she was missing a big chunk of her top-right hoof. Not wanting to be rude, I made no mention of it.

“That would be much appreciated. Would you like a drink? A cold soda or maybe just water?” she offered.

“Oh water is fine, thank you.”

“I’ll be right back then. Go on and take a seat.” She slowly made her way into the kitchen but not without glancing towards the hallway. I couldn’t help but notice how pale and weakly thin she looked. The poor woman wouldn’t have the slightest chance if a robber or a murderer happened to sneak in her house. I wouldn’t be surprised either. It truly was a nice house.

I turned my head to the hallway and took a deep breath. Then I noticed it, a faint odor. Whatever it was, it didn’t smell so inviting. I could tell though that an effort was given to cover the stench with air fresheners. I would know, I’ve done it before… I was making a move to get up when she walked back in with a glass of water.

“Here you are.” She placed it gently on the glass table and while doing so, revealed what looked like a small, ringed bruise on her leg.

“Miss, is your leg okay? I thought I saw a bit-”

“I’m fine,” she answered hurriedly, retrieving her leg to her chest. “Would you like to see the sink now?” she asked- insisted, rather. I got up and followed her after sipping on the glass of water. We passed by the hallway and I heard muffled shuffling in what seemed to be the first room to the left. I saw two shadows on the foot of the door.

“…mommy? Can I have it?” a small voice asked softly behind the doors. The woman stopped in her tracks and turned with a bewildered look that was quickly masked by a smile.

“Honey go back to bed,” she said with a cold tone that didn’t match the smile on her face.

“Mommy can I have it? I’ll be good this time. Please?” her son, I assume, pleaded.

“Ma’am I think your child needs something,” I said, hesitant.

“He’ll get it in a bit,” she said to me then to her son, “sweetie just be patient. I’ll get it to you later, I promise.” Immediately, she walked away and I followed, a little uncomfortable now. There was a little knock behind the doors.

“Was that your son?” I asked with caution when we arrived in the kitchen.

“I think it got clogged when I dumped some left overs there. I wasn’t thinking clearly and instead of putting them in the dispenser, I tossed the food down the drain. It was just cut up bread so I figured it wouldn’t be a big issue. I guess I was wrong,” she explained, completely ignoring my question. I decided not to push it.

“Well let me take a look.” She moved aside and I began taking out some tools. She stayed in the kitchen, leaning by the fridge, watching me. After a while she walked to one of the drawers and opened it, pulling out an item. I couldn’t tell what it was as I soon disappeared under the sink.

After a few minutes of silence, she asked, “You like helping people right? Isn’t that why you decided to go for this job?”

It was actually a lack of ambition and non-caring parents but seeing as I didn’t want to be rude, I merely nodded and even tried to play off as the good guy. “Yeah I like helping folks. Nothing better than knowing you’ve made someone’s life easier. Right?”

“Right. Yes. Service.” More silence followed, which lasted longer this time. I popped my head out for a bit and reached for a wrench in my tool box. She noticed the ring on my hoof.

“I see that you’re married. Any kids?” she asked, hands behind her back.

“Yeah. Two. My wife just gave birth to our youngest two weeks ago,” I answered with a genuine smile.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations.” She paused, opening her mouth as if to say something, only to go back into silence. With the look on her face, it seemed as if she was contemplating something in her head quite seriously, struggling for the right words. And then I saw on her face something I probably already did at the moment of our meeting but ignored. Exhaustion.

“Look, you seem like a nice man so-”

THUD

We both snapped our heads in the direction of the hallway. I was about to speak when another thud stopped me, louder this time. The woman looked at me with hesitation. After one lingering look at my ring, she stepped forward.

“You better go,” the woman said coldly, trying to ignore the sounds that now have much shorter pauses in between.

“But I’m not finished-”

“Leave. Right now.” I could see the unsettling look on her face so I obeyed and packed my things right away. When we passed by the hallway, the door to the boy’s room began to rattle wildly.

“Mommy please!! Let me out!! Can I have it now??!! I want it mommy!!”

“Goodness, you have your child locked in there??” I asked with such shock. She was pushing me towards the door now with the hoof that had a chunk taken out of it. I turned around sharply and she pulled out the knife she concealed. My widened eyes met her frenzied ones.

“If you take a single step towards me, I won’t hesitate to hurt you. I’ve done it before. Done it plenty of times. Oh yes I’ve killed a lot of men. But I was just doing my job you see! Just doing my job… Isn’t it a mother’s job to protect her child? Huh?” I stood there, my hooves frozen and glued to the floor, not knowing how to respond.

“ISN’T IT??!!” she yelled suddenly, causing me to jump. The door stopped rattling and returned to creating loud thudding noises. The boy was repeatedly throwing his body against it.

“Listen, let’s just be calm and talk about this. Put the knife down and we’ll-”

“No. No more. This has to end. No more of this. I’ve sacrificed enough. I’m tired…” She solemnly turned towards the hallway. Right at that moment, I could have easily disarmed her and turned the situation around. Things might’ve ended differently. But something in me was screaming to just run out and call the police. “I’m sorry sweetie. I’ve done my best…but I can’t keep doing this. It isn’t right. It isn’t right….” She turned back to me, knife lowered, eyes pleading. “Go home to your family.”

I bolted to the door without even thinking about it. I didn’t bother to close it either. With one last glance back, I saw her opening the door in the hallway, knife raised high.

“I’M BUCKING HUNGRY YOU BITCH!!” I refused to believe that it was the boy that said this. It couldn’t have been… Yet it was. Screams from both child and parent were heard.

I threw myself into the work vehicle and drove a couple of blocks before realizing I had to call the police.

———-

“Oh my goodness did you hear on the news?”

“About what?

“A plumber called the police after fleeing this one house he was working at, which is near the area by the way.”

“How exciting…”

“Let me finish geez! So the police arrive there and the first thing they see is a woman’s mutilated body on the living room floor. She was all chewed up! Her face was barely recognizable and her stomach was ripped open with the innards gone. They investigated the house and found a room with rotting corpses that were in the same condition as the woman’s body. A lot of them were workers like plumbers, electricians and whatnot. There was a broken chain leash right beside the pile of bodies.”

“Oh Jesus we’re eating… This is why I would never get a dog!”

“Oh no no it wasn’t a dog. They examined the woman’s body since it was the freshest, just died a little before they arrived apparently. She had bite marks on her limbs. Pony bite marks. They were also pretty small. Too small to be an adult.”

“You’re not saying… No that’s messed up.”

“They found out that she has a son. A little boy. He’s missing.”

Credit to Pandora

Thump

I sat up in the darkness of my room, frightened. Some noise from the land of the waking had jolted me out of unconsciousness. Groggy, I reached across to the clock hanging over my bedroom door. It read 3 AM, and I groaned. So much for a good night's sleep. Forgetting what had awoken me, I rolled over and settled back into bed... but there it was again. It was a thump from the attic above me, loud and deliberate. There was another. It sounded as though somepony (for surely it was a pony, no house settles in a manner so resembling footsteps) was attempting to make me aware of his presence, almost toying with me. I bolted upright, adrenaline pumping. Somepony was in my house.

The thumping stopped somewhere above my closet. Slowly, I stood up in the darkness of my room. Slowly, I worked my way out of my room and down the hall, heading for the storage closet, and grabbed my old bat. I retreated down the hall to stare, waiting, at the trap-door into the attic. Whoever the intruder was, he wasn't going anywhere.

I held my breath, waiting for any noise, any sign of life. Nothing. Heart racing, I slowly approached and pulled down the ladder. The light was on in the attic. I wasn't sure if I'd left it that way. I climbed up as quietly as I could and peeked into the room, only to be confronted with... nothing. There was nothing there at all, just the old crap I'd left up in storage. I sighed, relieved. I must've been imagining things. It's easy to convince yourself you're hearing things when you're alone in the dark. Laughing, I shut off the lights behind me and went to lie down.

I closed my eyes, thinking on how ridiculous I had been, then... thump. It was closer now. It was just as loud as I'd heard it before, though closer now to the center of the room. I jumped out of bed, less frightened than angry, and rushed up the ladder, bat in hand. I kicked over boxes, swung at shadows at old clothing. There was nothing. There was nopony there. I rubbed at my temples, climbing down the ladder and back towards my room. There must have been too much stress at work. I must have been imagining things. Maybe I'd take the day off tomorrow. I felt strange as I approached my door. A sense of dread washed through me and I hesitated, hand outstretched towards the doorknob. I groaned. I was being stupid. I'd probably feel better after I got some sleep. Hooves rubbing the bridge of my nose, I blindly flicked on the light-switch and made my way towards my bed. I slumped down onto the edge, rubbing my eyes. I was so tired. I had to stop being paranoid.

Thump.

I jerked my hooves away from my face, whipping around to glare once more towards the attic. With the light on, I could see it. It was a grotesque mockery of the pony form, bent and twisted, head facing the wrong way, and empty sockets where the eyes should have been. Slowly, deliberately, it lifted a hoof. It grinned as it slapped it down with a thump, dragging itself closer to me.

Thump.

I give a panicked laugh as it smashes the bare bulb that is my only source of light, shrouding the room in darkness. I'm not insane. How could I have known?

Thump.

It walks on ceilings.

Go to Sleep

He's just at the foot of my bed. Watching me as I lay awake with that malicious smile. He whispers "Go to sleep," then slowly descends down, keeping his eyes locked on mine. I can see the light gleaming off of theI'm too afraid to look away until he's finally out of my sight. I've never been so frightened. I hold my breath, I try not to move knife he carries in his hoof. He can be on any side of my bed but if I truly had to guess, I'd guess he's under it. I just have to stay alert the whole night, and I can't fall asleep, no matter how exhausted I am. If I try to jump off my bed I wonder if I could make it... but...

The alarm rings out and I stir. I'm confused... what happened last night? Then it hits me, "I fell asleep!" and I sit up abruptly.

His eyes are the last things I'll ever see...

The Beach

"Daddy, come on!"  my daughter shouted.

"I'm coming sweetie."  I said with a smile.  

Today was the day that me and my daughter, Tootsie Roll, would go to the beach for a much needed vacation.  She scampered about, completely overcome by happiness.  

"I can't wait any longer!  Let's go now,"  she shouted  "I can't wait to go to heaven!"

"Me neither.  Come on, let's go to the water."  

She ran over to me, jumping higher and higher as we got closer.  "Do you remember what you have to do?"

"Yeah!  I have to hold my breath until I see a white light!"

"That's right, Tootsie!"  We put out two front legs inside the water while the other two stayed on the beach,  "Now remember honey, you may want to come back to the surface, but you have to stay under.  No matter what, don't come up to the surface."

"Did you tell that to mommy?"

I don't say anything for a little while.  "Yeah.  I told her that as well."

She gasps, "Is that where mommy went?  She left us to go to heaven?"

"That she did, Tootsie.  She had to go there for some very important business, and she couldn't come back.  But now, we get to go see her again."  Tootsie was very excited once I told her that.  

"That's why you took her to the beach!  To take her to heaven because she needed somepony to see her off!"  

I chuckle a bit.  "Yep.  Now come on, she's expecting us."

"Come on daddy!"  

I take of my glasses and throw them onto the sand.  We keep walking until we can't feel the sand anymore.  Then we start the countdown.

"Three... two... ONE!"  

We dive into the water.  It's then that I make my move.  I wrap my legs around my daughters neck, and I squeeze tightly.  She struggles to try and escape my grip, but I hold her there until she eventually stops moving.  Her final breathes of air were now air bubbles, rising to the surface.  

Once I finish, I swim back to the surface, leaving my daughter to fall deeper and deeper into the water.  I step back onto the beach, picking up my glasses.  A smile creeps along my face and start to laugh.  I turn back to the water, and I yell, "You were so much easier than your mother!"

The Holder of the End

In any city in Equestria, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End".

Should a look of child-like fear come over the worker's face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and quickly say aloud "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave. Do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, and sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a pony in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something.

The pony will only respond to one question. "What happens when they all come together?"

The pony will then stare into your eyes and answer your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing, and look upon the object in the pony's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned that if you do, your death will be one of cruelty and unrelenting horror.

Your death will be in that room, by that pony's hooves.

That object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Ever.

The Holder of Lies

In any city in Equestria, go to any insane asylum or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you get there, walk up to the front desk and ask to see somepony who calls himself "The Holder of Lies". The worker will nod cheerily, then get up and gesture for you to follow him. So will about seven other ponies in the area. Ignore them all - they strayed from the True Path, and now their only want is to bring others to join them.

Walk up to the desk and look under it. There will be a button, flashing rescue orange, labeled "In Case of Emergency". Press it twice, then jam the stool the worker was sitting on underneath it - this button is all that holds the door open, and you do not want it to slam shut on you.

Get up and turn around. There will be a brushed-steel door labeled "The True Path" in front of you. It is the one truth in this place. Ignore all the others; only the True Path leads to the liar.

Go through the door. You may well be driven insane by your position: walking on the roof of a hallway that leads in an impossible direction, on its side, painted in an eye-jarring and impossible color. Ignore the visions - the only thing that is true is the path beneath your feet.

You can not shut your eyes at all here, lest you never manage to open them again. Endure the madness of your position, to say nothing of the sights that will come in a moment, and start walking. The hall's ceiling is tiled in red and white. Keep your hooves on the red tiles or you will fall through, straight into the madness beyond, and from then on you will only have one purpose: to bring others to join you.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, you will find yourself in front of a plain wooden door. Open it and walk in.

You will find yourself in a 30's style office. A stallion in a black trench coat and a fedora hat is hunched over a pile of papers on the desk, muttering and scribbling. A gun sits on top of a paper-loaded bin labeled "In". Pictures line the back wall, showing the man in a number of places, but you'll notice some things common about all the photos: one, the stallion never shows his face; and two, everyone in the photos other than the stallion appears to be in unimaginable agony.

Edge your hand towards the gun, but touch nothing - this man does not enjoy being disturbed. Steel yourself, then ask into the air, "Where was He when they gathered last?"

Grab the gun quickly, then fire at the stallion until you run out of ammo. If you don't, or if you miss, he will grab you and show you what his face really looks like. You do not want to see that - when you do, you will appear among the photos on the wall, and you will see why the others there were in agony.

However, if you succeeded, the stallion will slump over his desk in mid-lunge, dead. A single envelope will flutter to the floor. If you honestly want to know where He was, grab this envelope - the message inside will tell you. But the contents are extremely volatile, and you may find that your mind can not handle the knowledge. For, while the envelope will tell you where, it will not tell you why. This is more than most can handle.

Don't try and read it now - you have no time. Drop the useless gun and run. Run as fast as you can manage, for without its guardian, the True Path is beginning to stray, and you do not want to be there when that happens.

When you see the steel door, lunge for it. If you were too slow, you will be trapped as a confused worker removes the stool, and you will be tortured endlessly until you agree to replace the stallion you killed. However, if you were fast enough, you will appear in the lobby, on one of the couches in the rest area.

Quickly, get up and run to the green armchair - the Object is calling, and there are others who want it as well. Throw the cushion off the seat.

You will have revealed a skeleton, twisted in a position of horrible agony. In his hooves, he holds a book bound in navy blue and embossed with gold. The name is embedded in silver on the front - it's a long one.

This book is Object 58 of 538. You have found His law, but it is entirely up to you if you should follow it.

The Diary of Mr. Welldone

Hello.

I am Mr. Welldone.

I watched the copulation which conceived you and I screamed in horror. I saw you birthed like a hatched parasite, hairless and gagging, and I grit my teeth in hatred, sliding them over each other again and again and again and again and again until they were flat and smooth. I will watch you wither and grow old, as your body congeals and the weight of your years pulls your flesh from your body and I will grin and snicker, laugh and laugh. I will see your desiccated corpse pumped full of superficial chemicals, interred into the dirt to feed the eyeless, subterranean creatures of the earth and I will howl because I know where you are going.

I know where you are going.

I know the secrets of this Equestria, as I knew the secrets of the one before this one. I will bring about the End, and you cannot stop me.

You read these tales and you do not know that with each you read, with each you create and recreate, with each you retell, with each you claim ownership of, you beckon the End.

For there will be some among you who will try to verify these tales. You will seek them out. Those that do so with passion will find that many of them are falsehoods… but some will be harrowing at the very least. Others will leave you scarred for the rest of your fleeting days. Others still will leave you stripped of your flesh.

And that flesh will be used to build more, and more, and more tales. Twisted and stretched to cry out to more curious individuals.

And I will smile, my teeth clenching together tightly, tightly, tightly until one cracks with a satisfying pop. My eyes unblinking; watching everything fall into place; wide and empty; weeping and shriveling with delicious, protracted agony.

I am so excited. So very excited.

Even as you read this, some among you are emboldened. The sick part of you which lusts for the End whispers into your mind, making you want to see the horror, the pain, the blood, the death. You want to see it. You want to see what lies hidden in the dark, beyond sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch.

Come.

Come and see.

I will show you such wonderful things.

In the Dark

Hello.

It is not what you cannot see in the Dark that you fear.

It seems the masses have comforted themselves with the trite statement “people fear the unknown.” Humanity finds a strange comfort in this statement. If people did indeed fear the unknown, this statement would be akin to locking eyes and spirit with that soul-rending horror which lurks unseen in the back of every human’s mind.

No, it is not what you cannot see in the Dark that you fear.

It is what you will see if you gaze long and hard into it. You will see that thing you “know” you will see. You will attempt to assuage that sting of fear in your mind by numbly assuring yourself that it is simply a figment of the rampant faculties of the subconscious.

It is not.

Yes, we fear the Dark for a reason.

The reason is not what you think it is.

The Foolhardiness Of Bravado

Hello.

Many stallions, in their markedly-less-than infinite wisdom, choose to prove their gender and sexual orientation by seeking out a locale rumored to be frequented with events of the “supernatural.” What a loathsome and paradoxical term, ”supernatural.” How can a thing be “above nature” when it is naturally occurring?

I digress.

Many such “brave” souls who set out in search of the nocturnal thrills of the unknown find that there is little to fear, despite the cold sweat they feel, and choose to take this evidence as the answer to whether or not the “supernatural” exists in our shared perception of the world.

What fools.

Indeed, if one steels themselves overmuch, such an individual may find that he or she never will see anything beyond the mundane. It is those that embrace their fear that find much more startling evidence supporting the possibility of earthly entities and energies beyond our current understanding.

Fear is more than a biological warning to impending danger; it is a sense, little different than the five most people are familiar with. To ignore one’s fear is to close one’s eyes to such secrets possessed of beauty beyond most mortals’ imaginations.

And so I impart this advice upon those who wish to confirm the existence of the “supernatural.”

Exalt yourself in your fear.

Stoke its fires and seek out the Darkness.

You will see such wonderful things.

The Shadows

Hello.

Of all of the most wonderful things to be seen in this world, the best of them lay in the periphery of the worldly, the superficial, the mundane, the worthless, the duplicitous, wretched, horrid, loathsome, hated, despicable, sickening, vapid reality which ponies clings to.

Pardon me.

But, in the corners of the eye lay unknown gems amidst the refuse. Those flitting shapes humanity unconsciously assigns to the readily explainable, acceptable normalities of the social world which haunt us, leaving us with a vague fear that begs our eyes to close so very tightly when the lights are put down for an evening’s rest and not to open again until the reassuring light of the morning dispels the possibilities of the Darkness.

What waste. What ridiculousness.

Open your eyes and use the wondrous capabilities of this fantastic organ. As you goes about your evening hygienic rituals, I suggest you pay indirect attention to the cold black of the hallways waiting outside the door. Wait for the inevitable thing, out of place with the characteristic stillness of the night, swiftly passing by to unknown destinations.

But do not acknowledge it.

Do not. Do not. Do not.

Some things are best only seen and not interacted with in other ways.

For in seeing that which believes itself unseen, awareness comes with the most severe of consequences.

Oh, yes. So severe.

Do behave.

Look, but do not touch. Or speak. Or taste.

Only then, perhaps, will you hear. Faintly on the first occasion, but on every occasion thereafter impossible to ignore. Even as they stand, now so clearly, leering at you from the Darkest corners of your safest, most sacred havens, do not acknowledge their presence.

Be content to observe.

Yes. Content.

Such contentedness is the only barrier against their predations.

If you can do this, if one can stand the temptations of the Darkness and control one’s primordial self, perhaps then you will be prepared.

Prepared.

For more.

Much more.

What Things You Will See

Hello

Tales of strange creatures, occurrences, and sightings persist from the first days of pony until today. To discard them out of hand is foolishness, as is to believe blindly.

But for those that seek out the Dark, you will see horrors which will shatter your human mind.

There was once a time when Pony understood Their place in the universe. But things change. Always changing. Though, even in recent history there have been those that have understood. However, such individuals’ wise insight is turned to examine the mundanity of nature rather than its unexplainable qualities.

What waste.

The bulk does not understand, will never understand. There is only fear and blind denial. Even when faced with old “truths” the human mind shuts itself off and the person attempts desperately to find any mundane explanation possible to retain “sanity.”

Sanity. A creature wholly wrought of comparison and worthless society.

Only those bold enough to search in the dark, blind and senseless, will see the old “truths.”

You will see, and you will understand your place. You will experience feelings so powerful and varied that you will be unable to assign words to describe the experience.

And then it will all End.

Fine Entertainment

Hello.

Can one be simultaneously amused and disgusted?

Apparently so.

Ponykind disgusts me for its constant squabbling for little pieces of paper, hierarchical conflicts for power that exists only in the imaginations of those involved, and the pointless use of lives in order to sustain nothing but a paltry level of comfort.

I am sickened.

And, yet, I am also entertained. It is like watching some cruel joke unfold. I sit, waiting for one among you to ascend to greater powers than known to the bulk of Ponykind, but so few are willing to aspire. So full of yourselves, so assured that you already know the workings of the universe.

You rob yourselves of the greatest of mysteries.

I cannot wait.

I cannot wait.

I cannot wait to see it all End.

I cannot wait to watch you scream and suffer.

A magnificent din of flesh being stripped from bone, which is then made to dance to the whims of the most horrifying destruction the sentient portion of the universe has borne witness to.

It will be a wonderful taste of vengeance for having been subjected to your monotony.

Yet, I still yearn for even one among you to attain the eyes with which to see the all of the cosmos.

But I also yearn to pluck your organs from their positions of safe functioning simply to relish the expression of pain and terror on your faces.

I wonder if I shall ever be so divided.

I wonder what I shall do when such divisions cease.

I cannot wait.

Love Letter

To the one in my dreams,

I’ve been watching you for a while, my darling. I know we could be happy together, if only you’d hear me out and listen to my wishes…

Though I’ve only been watching you from a distance, I know that I love you and I could very possibly need you, that is, until they got in the way.

This pony… What do you see in them? I could do so much for you. I could keep you safe and warm. I wouldn’t argue with you. I would never hurt you. That is, unless, you tried to leave.

I don’t know what crosses my mind more… On one hoof I have the pure intentions of seeing your smiling face greeting me every morning, but on the other, I know you might try to leave, and oh, the things I would do to you. My plan B is already existent if you deny me of my way.

I would have to ruin that pretty little face of yours. I would carve you the jolliest smile and as you wept, I would kiss away all of your tears. Please don’t leave me, my dearest.

If you still would attempt to escape, I’d have to break your legs. I may not be very strong but I’m positive a crowbar could do the trick. Stay with me, love, I’ll take good care of you.

If you would be desperate enough to attempt crawling away from that point, I would simply chain your hooves behind your back as not to bring you any more harm. You’re already terrified of me, enough, aren’t you beloved?

Don’t worry; I’ll take very good care of you. I’ll feed you every day and give you plenty to drink. No matter what you say, what venom you spit, what hateful words you have for me… I will always love you.

Eventually, you’ll lose the will to fight me. Then you’ll understand the depth of my love. You’ll respond to my kisses and affection with equal love, that is… I hope.

If not, I’ll make myself beautiful for you. I’ll paint my lips with your crimson, I’ll starve myself until I reach perfection in your eyes, I’ll even make the effort to set hoof outside in the sunlight to add a healthy glow to my coat if that is your wish. I promise to be everything you want.

If that’s not good enough for you, I fear that I’ll have to go to the most drastic measures…

I’m being quite literal when I say I’ll take your heart, as you’ve stolen mine.

Please darling… Just let me see you smile. I’d rather not resort to my secondary plan.

Love me… Forget about them. After all, they’ve already been taken care of. I’m all you have left, sweet love. I’m anxiously awaiting your arrival with open arms. Come cry into my shoulder. Let me hold you.

P.S. Would someone please deliver this to comic relief?

The Holder of Understanding

In any city in Equestria, travel to a guidance center or another place where you may receive counseling. Any place will work, but it is better to pick one as far as possible from the places at which you have met other Holders. It is advisable to wait at least a week after contact with another Holder before trying this, for this particular Holder has no love for the others.

If, however, he does detect the stench of the others on you, he will place his mark on you. You will henceforth be identified to every Seeker you come across, and they will all attempt to take your Objects from you, or kill you if you have none. However, some consider this to be an advantage in that you may not necessarily lose such an encounter.

Once you are there, approach the attendant or secretary and ask to see the ‘Holder of Understanding’. None shall be denied entry to this place except for two reasons.

If, in your life, you have ever given advice which is insincere, or given advice that secretly furthers your own agenda, it is unwise to approach this Holder. Instead, you must seek forgiveness from all those who you have deceived. If somebody denies you forgiveness then you will not be able to seek the Holder of Understanding until that pony dies.

If, however, you have not violated this condition, or the other, then the attendant will nod and ask you to a take a seat. An unspecified amount of time will pass.

If you become impatient, or wish to leave, do so, with the knowledge that this Holder values patience and that you will not be given another chance to seek him. As you wait you may still grow hungry, thirsty and experience any other bodily urges, except none of them will kill you or grow stronger than a constant irritation.

After a length of time, which can range from seconds to days, somebody will enter from an adjoining room. This pony – which is, of course, the Holder – will have the guise that is most calming and reassuring to you, but do not be fooled by it.

Error in his domain thus far has not resulted in death or agony, and there is a reason for it – this Holder considers himself above such overt measures, and seeks to distinguish himself from his brethren. Be warned, however – there are far, far worse punishments than insanity, death and pain, and this Holder knows them all.

The Holder will greet you warmly and beckon you inside the room. Follow him quickly and in an orderly fashion. Once you follow him inside, the door behind you will close. Do not attempt to leave until after this is over. Wait for him to sit. He will invite you to sit on the comfortable-looking chair opposite his. Once you are both seated, then it will begin.

One at a time, every pony you have ever ignored, ever turned a blind eye towards and ever refused them in their time of need will enter. You will experience their suffering, their anguish and their pain, just as you did the first time, except with a difference – now you will feel it, and more importantly, you will understand what you cost them with your heartlessness.

Some of them may attack you. The pain you will fill is what they felt, and you will suffer the physical wounds they suffered, the ones that you were blissfully ignorant to, but the ones you caused. Others will relate their emotional torment to you, and soon you will sink into misery and agony at the weight of their torment. All their sadness, their anguish, their despair will be placed onto you.

At the end of the ordeal, the pony you have hurt the most will appear. If you still do not understand the agony that you have caused through your life, behind them the Holder will sigh, hand your victim a dagger, and they will be given the power of your salvation or damnation. If you are lucky, the capacity for understanding – and thus, forgiveness – will be with your victim, and they will spare you. Otherwise, you will die by a stab to the heart.

However, if you understand the pain you have caused, but you do not care, the Holder will banish your victim and assume his true form. You may attempt to battle him if you dare, with whatever objects you have concealed from his sharp senses. It is an extremely difficult fight, and there is only a slight chance of you winning. If you do, you may take the Object from his corpse, but beware – most of the other Holders fear this particular Holder, and now they fear you. Never again will you go unnoticed by them, even if you cease your quest.

But, should you fully understand the terrible things you have done, both covertly and overtly, the Holder will send the last pony away, then smile at you. This is your signal. You must tell the Holder of everything. All the suffering, the pain, the agony you have both caused and gone through in your life, ending with the pain caused to you and the pain that you, in turn, caused to others, through this quest. Do not worry, for you have passed his test, and no harm will come to you.

At the end of your tale, you must stand and ask the Holder this: “Do you understand?”

If he shakes his head sadly, you will wake up in your bed, without any memory of the Objects or your quest. Never again will you encounter them.

If he nods, you are free to leave. However, you will not receive his Object.

If he asks, “Do you?” you must step forward and embrace him. Try not to show repulsion at his touch, for his illusionary form does not extend that far.

Then, he will take a custom-made black revolver from his pocket and hand it to you. Inscribed on the barrel are the words “The Widowmaker.” The gun holds any bullet, and it is indeed a formidable ally. This Holder understands what you have been through, and he is also your ally. In your time of need, neither he nor his gun will fail you. You may only call upon him once.

The Widowmaker is Object 186 of 538. Now that you understand the price of your actions, there is no choice of your devotion to your cause. To recant now is an insult to all those who you came across.

There is one last thing.

The other condition for entry is that you must never have visited the one who rides on horseback. The Holder of Understanding and that particular Holder has a long history. However, if you take the Widowmaker with you when visiting the rider, you may yet obtain his Object.

My Day At Work With Dad

Hey there, my name is Button Mash, but my friends call me Button. I'm 8 years old, well 8 and a half really. Today I got to go to work with my dad. I don't know what he does really, he always says he does construction but I don't know if that's really true. I've seen construction workers before but my dad doesn't do what they do. He works inside houses I guess, at least thats where he brought me.

He woke me up this morning and told me that I was gonna be able to come to work with him. I got really excited because I've always wanted to go to work with my dad. I like my dad a lot, he's the best dad there's ever been. He got dressed in his work clothes, and they look kind of like a construction man I guess and got me my own outfit. It was awesome cause I looked just like him. I had a hat, vest and my own boots even. We drove down the road for a while till we came to this abandoned house, it looked like the haunted house ride from disney world. I love disney world, I wonder if my dad'll take me there later. Once we pulled up and got out I got really scared. I started shaking but my dad took my hand and I felt a lot better.

When we got inside he pulled out this weird mask thingy. It reminded me of a pterodactyl, those are my favorite dinosaurs, and handed me one also. I asked him what they were for, he just said to be quiet. We started walking through the house and I got even more scared so I grabbed onto his leg. When we got to the stairs I noticed my dad didn't have any tools with him.

"Where are your tools dad, how are we gonna do work without tools." I asked.

"They're downstairs Timothy, now be quiet we have a lot of work to be done and I don't need you making a ruckus." He said.

We started walking walking down the stairs and they all creaked, I hate creaky stairs, they're scary. I thought there was gonna be a monster beneath the steps and it was gonna grab my ankles but my dad kept me safe. I held onto him tighter as he flipped the switch at the bottom of the stairs. I thought I was gonna see a giant purple monster with 14 million eyes and sharp green teeth but we didn't, it was some man chained up. He had a blind fold and started calling out for help.

"Are we gonna help the man dad" I asked

"No he's a monster Timothy, he just looks like you or me. Don't let that fool you though, he's a real monster." He said not looking at me.

My dad went over to a table, picked up a camera, and gave it to me.

"Make sure you record this Timothy, I want to cherish these memories we get to spend together" My dad said.

"Got it Dad"

I love my dad and I love spending time with him. I think its awesome that he's taking care of these monsters so that they don't harm anybody. He had me record him doing his job, I'm not sure why though, I enjoyed helping my dad though. My dad seemed really happy to have me help also. The monster kept screaming for help, he kept saying that he wasn't a monster but I don't believe him. My dad told me that they say that so they can trick you, once you let a monster in you're house he will hurt you and your family. I saw through the monster tricks and didn't move from my spot. My dad's a smart man, I'm glad he knew about the monsters tricks.

He began giving the monster boo boo's all over his body. I don't think the monster like that very much, but maybe if he wasn't a monster my dad wouldn't be so mean to him. The monster started to scream out a bunch of words that my dad always told me not say so I'm not gonna tell you guys them. He was a really mean monster, all my dad was doing was keeping everyone else safe. After forever my dad stopped, he looked over at me and was covered in the monsters blood. He looked scary with the mask on but I knew it was my dad underneath and he's a nice man so I was brave.

"Alright Timothy, its your turn."

"Really dad"

"Yes, really..."

My dad then let me have a turn with the monster. He gave me a hammer and a few other tools he had down there and took my camera. He told me that the monster was evil and spread lies all the time. I remembered seeing the monster on the TV, my parents would always leave him on and he would keep talking. I didn't like hearing him talk, he had an annoying voice. I took the hammer and hit him with it. I hit his face and a tooth fell out. My dad said I could take it for the tooth fairy so I did. I started hitting him more and my dad started cheering. the monster began to cry more.

"Why are you doing this kid?" He asked.

"My dad told me who you are. He told me you were a monster."

"No you got it backwards. I have a wife and kid who's your age. Please listen to me, your dad's the monster. He kidnapped me and is keeping me down here." The monster said.

I didn't fall for his tricks though. I knew he was just trying to get me to stop and if I did he would just go and hurt more people. I hit the monster harder in the chest and he made some scary noise. I ran over to my dad but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me I was doing good. He said he loved me very much and that made me excited, he doesn't say that he loves me very often. I went back to hurting the monster but got tired. My dad told me not to stop, he kept saying that I was making him proud and not to stop. I didn't want to but I was really tired. I dropped the hammer and my dad walked over to me and put the camera on the monsters face. He was all bruised and even scarier looking now.

"Alright Timothy thats enough, you can stop." My dad said.

He grabbed the hammer and other tools and put them back on the table. He pointed the camera at me and I waved, I hope my dad lets me watch the movie sometime. He then pointed the camera at himself.

"Well this was a fun day at work with Timothy. He helped out a lot and maybe I'll bring him back."

"I wanna come back with you dad. I had a lot of fun today" I said.

My dad put the camera back on the table and picked me up. He turned the lights out when we were leaving and I heard the monster start groaning again. I was really tired though so I didn't pay attention. My dad took my mask and threw it into the back of the car with his and we drove off.

After that I got to get ice cream. I love ice cream a lot, I love my dad even more though. I hope I get to help him out at work again, I had a lot of fun. When I grow up I wanna be just like my dad.

The Stranger in the Back Seat

When I was around nine years old, the young filly that lived across the street from me told this story. He told it to me as a first hand experience, but as the years have gone by I have heard a variation of this story and realize it may be an urban legend. All the same, it truly still gives me chills thinking about it, as his mother backed up his account of the story.

It was an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and my neighbor Dinky had stayed home from school for the day. She was asleep when her mother, Derpy, entered the room and told him that she had to run to the grocery store. She was not old enough at the time to stay at home by herself, so she had no choice but to go to the market with her. She rolled out of bed and ran outside where her mother sat. They decided to take a taxi. Her mother was in a hurry, hoping to be home before her other child got home from school/  She hurried Dinky threw the super market, and toward the cash register.

Dinky bounded out of the store, racing ahead of her mother and her shopping cart toward the taxi cart. The cart was parked just outside, but it wasn't until he was around ten feet from the cart that Dinky saw it. She stopped dead in his tracks before her mother saw it too. There was an old woman at the reins of the cart, who appeared to be in a hospital gown or something of the sort. She was staring straight ahead, seemingly unaware that there were two people staring at her through the drivers seat window. Her hair was messy and disheveled, and her skin was green.  Ditzy recognized the old mare as Granny Smith.

Ditzy looked at Dinky. "I want you to stay here. I'm just going to talk to her." His mom approached the cart, stopping about a foot from it.  "Can I help you, Granny Smith?"

Granny Smith's head swung around toward her mother quickly, and she smiled eerily at both of them. She did not respond. She just smiled, with an almost blank look in her eyes. Dinky caught herself take a step back as his mom repeated, "Excuse me, ma'am. Can I help you?"

It took a moment, but Granny Smith finally responded. Her voice was shaky. "Get in." She said beckoning toward them. Her mother quickly replied, holding up her hoof toward her daughter, as if telling her to stay back, "Granny Smith. I'm very sorry, but is there someone we can get to come get you?" There was a pause, before Granny replied "I live very close, and I just need a lift home. Please. Get in." Again, she beckoned them toward the vehicle.

"Granny, I'm sorry but I can't give you a ride. You're pulling the cart.  But I would be happy to call someone that can come get you. Okay?" The woman now seemed mildly agitated, and her retort was extremely forceful and sharp, "GET IN."

Nothing about this felt right to Dinky, and apparently her mother felt the same way. She turned to her daughter and told her to run back inside and tell the manager to call the police. She ran. He told the manager exactly what was happening, and without taking a breath, she instructed him to call 911. Not wanting to leave her mother alone outside with this seemingly unstable woman,

Matthew dragged the manager with him back into the parking lot. Her mother was still trying to negotiate with this woman, who was becoming more and more aggressive in her demands. "GET IN THE CART!"

The police arrived very quickly. Two male officers arrived on the scene in under ten minutes, and quickly approached Dinky and her mother to ask for the details. After getting the story from his mom, the officers approached the vehicle and began to speak to the woman. "Ma'am. Please step out of the vehicle."

The woman did not respond. "Ma'am, please come with us. We need to speak to you," Still nothing from Granny Smith. The officer motioned toward his partner who drew his weapon and nodded. He approached her slowly. "Ma'am?" He put his hoof on her shoulder. "Let's do this the easy way, okay? Now, step out of the cart." She looked at him, wild eyed, but said nothing.  The officer lifted his hoof from her shoulder and grabbed Granny's leg and slowly pulled the woman away from the cart.

And then chills went up Dinky's spine. Not when she saw the first officer drag Granny Smith out of the vehicle, not when she locked eyes with her and smiled that awful smile. It was when the second officer revealed what the woman had been hiding in her gown.

A small hatchet.

To this day, I still think of Dinky and her mom, and those chilling words.

"Get in."

The Holder of Silence

Do not speak. Do not sigh. Shut down any sound-making device; smash it if you must. Send away your friends and family; never see them again. And smother that damn dog.

Shoot the neighbors; they want to break it.

The silence- hear it? Pure and golden, all for you. There will be no clamor, no gasping or struggling, so long as you maintain the silence.

Walk to the nearest mental institution or halfway house in any city in Equestria.  Make no noise and let no others blast and blare through your silence; their fists and guns and bullets must not stop you.

They must not break the silence.

When you reach the institute or halfway house, hand the desk worker a blank piece of paper and they will understand.

You will be taken deep into the building. All the while, bask in your silence: crushing you, maddening you. It wants to destroy you so that you may be part of it.

Hear that? The blood rushing through your veins? That must be silent. Tear out the noisy heart, for it has offended and must be cast aside.

Continue walking- you must walk- and be surrounded by the silence.

Bring up walls and cages to defend the silence; create punishments for those who would break it.

When you reach your cell you may once more speak, but you will not want to. You will simply wish to maintain the silence, have it surround you, be near you. Hold it for a while.

Because that Silence is Object 31 of 538. It must not be broken.

Lightning

We had just moved into a little ranch house in Hoofington. Storybook neighborhood – quiet, friendly neighbors, picket fences, the whole nine yards. Suffice it to say that this was supposed to be a new start for me, a recently single dad, and my three-year-old son. A time to move on from the previous year’s drama and stress.

I viewed the thunderstorm as a metaphor for this fresh start: one last show of theatrics before the dirt and grime of the past would be washed away. My son loved it. It was the first big storm he’d ever seen. Flashes of lightning flooded the bare rooms of our house, imparting unpacked boxes with long creeping shadows, and he jumped and squealed as the thunder boomed. It was well past his bedtime before he’d finally settled down enough to go to sleep.

The next morning I found him awake in bed and smiling. “I watched the lightning at my window!” he proudly announced.

A few mornings later, he told me the same thing. “You’re silly, Pipsqueak,” I said. “It didn’t storm last night, you were only dreaming!”

“Oh…” He seemed somewhat disheartened. I ruffled his hair and told him not to worry, there should be another storm soon.

Then it became a pattern. He would tell me how he watched the lightning outside his window at least twice a week, despite there being no storms. Recurring dreams of that first memorable thunderstorm, I figured.

It’s easy to hate myself in hindsight. Everybody assures me there’s nothing I could have done, no way I could have known. But I’m supposed to be the guardian of my child, and these are useless words of comfort. I constantly relive that morning: making my coffee, pouring milk over my cereal, and picking up the newspaper to read about the pedophile local authorities had just arrested. It was front-page stuff. Apparently this guy would select a young target (usually a colt), stake out their house for a while, and take flash photos of them through their window while they slept. Sometimes he did more. My stomach sank as the connection was made.

At the time, it was merely something from a child’s imagination. In retrospect, it is the scariest thing I’ve ever heard. About a week before the predator was caught, my son came up to me in his pajamas. “Guess what?” he asked.

“What?”

“No more lightning at my window!”

I played along. “Oh, that’s nice, it finally died down huh?”

“No! Now it’s in my closet!”

I’ve yet to see the photos police have collected.

The Holder of Art

In any city in Equestria, go to any art museum or gallery and ask for the one who calls themselves "The Holder of Art". Should the receptionist make a creepy half smile, you will be led into a dark hallway that has suddenly appeared behind you.

No one else will notice, so you can do this secretly if you wish. If the receptionist makes any other face, running won't save you. If you are lucky, you have gone to the right one. If not, you need to NEVER go to anything art related again. Burn paintings and statues in your house, or you will die, impaled on a tree and will never be found. Enter the hallway should it appear to you.

Inside, you will see all the famous artists throughout time painting. Should they stop painting at any time, say "The gods will not be pleased when they hear about this." If they just stand there, RUN! Don't go home, don't go to a hotel, sleep where your body drops you. You will know in the morning if you survived.

The receptionist will lead you to a door. This door is the most beautiful thing ever seen. Enter it only when the receptionist says so, regardless of what the artists around you say. Open the door only when the receptionist says so, lest you die a horrible fate of Celestia knows what.

Inside, you will see Leonardo Da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa. He will only respond to one question, "What will it look like?" Any other question will make him turn around and put you in an infinite coma. You will still be alive, and will feel the worst pain imaginable. Upon asking the one question, Da Vinci will go into perfect detail about every piece of art EVER made and what happened to it. When he is done, he will give you a golden paintbrush.

This paintbrush is object 49 of 538. The objects must NEVER be brought together. The gods will be upset, and the mural will never be completed.

The Job

“So what shall we cut off next? An ear? Your hoof? Maybe I’ll just slice out your tongue so I don’t have to listen to your whiny sniveling any more?”

I test the restraints again as the maniac walks across the room to pick out yet another tool from his surgical kit, but there’s no way I can escape. He hums to himself as he lightly runs his fingers along each torture device, taking his time to make his selection.

“Ah the scalpel! Oh we can have some fun with this!”

He pressed his hoof down on my throat – it feels like he’s crushing my trachea. Every muscle in my body tenses as he sticks the instrument into my eye. The pain is incredible. He laughs out loud to himself, like some kind of super villain, as he twists and turns the pointed object and scrambles the inside of my socket.

After what feels like minutes he pulls the thing from my face and a mangled cluster of what used to be an eyeball dangles down my cheek. He laughs again, “I hope you enjoyed that friend because we’re going to be at it all night!”

All night, I think to myself, He better. It is what I paid him for after all.

Encounter of the Slenderman

If anyone is reading this, which is unlikely. This may be my last day. My name is Noteworthy. I'm 27 years old. I used to have a marefriend. A beautiful, beautiful mare friend.  Her name was Octavia. She was perfect. Octavia was the greatest mare that you could ever imagine. Until this... Thing... Took her from me. As a matter of fact, it's coming after me too.

A few days ago, I was coming home from work a little late. It was around 11PM. I walked in the front door and saw that all the lights were off. This was unusual since she always left on a light for when I come home so I could see where I was going. It was pitch black. I moved my hooves on the wall to find the light switch. After a couple of minutes I finally found it. The second after I flipped the switch I heard a crashing noise. Kind of like a window breaking.

It was coming from the other side of the house. I started to walk towards the noise when all of a sudden I stepped in something. Something wet. I leaned down to see blood. It was a trail of blood. As if someone was being dragged. I jolted up as I heard a mare scream. I ran towards the back of the house. It came from the bedroom. I busted through the door and saw Octavia being pulled out of the window by something. She was pulled out of the window by some sort of tentacles. I rushed to the window and saw that the thing was gone, and so was Octavia.

Today, it was five in the morning and I was walking to work. Since I had an early morning job. All of a sudden, I felt like I was being watched. I turned around and saw it. The thing that took my wife. It was a tall stallion.

Well, it looked like a stallion but I knew it wasn't a pony. It was some sort of creature. It was wearing a suit. It had tentacles sprouting out of its back. Worst of all, it had no face. It was just standing there in the darkness. Staring at me. Even though it didn't have eyes. I ran as fast as I could. I didn't care where I was going, just as long as I was away from that thing. I finally got back home.

I've been sitting here at my computer in my living room since then. I've been watching all of my surroundings. Waiting for it to come out and take me away. I did some research on this thing. Apparently it has a name. Slender Mane. The name fits the creature pretty well since it is very slender, but this thing is no stallion. Just a few minutes ago, I heard a noise coming from my bedroom. It's here. It's staring at me through the door way. Waiting for the right moment to snatch me and take me away, just like it took Octavia. Looks like this is goodbye. Save yourselves. Watch out for the Slender Maneeeeee...

The Cellist

Deals with the devil always end up bad, no matter how hard you try to set up a fair bargain. I learnt this the hard way, and now. Now I’m a monster. Everything I love so dearly has slipped through my hands; nothing is how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to have HIM. I was supposed to be happy with him. Now he's gone… and all I have left is this stupid cello. No matter how much I hate this stupid, stupid cello… I am compelled to play it for the rest of my Celestiadamned life.

I was a well off mare. I had some money, a nice house and a nice life. I also had charm, oh the number of stallions I had seduced into my bed. I could have any stallion in the world but I had my sights set on him, Caramel. He was such a handsome stallion. His rich brown locks, flowing down in curls and those amber eyes. I cannot describe  with mere words. Though I was not his type of mare. I swung from colt to colt while she preferred to stay in a steady relationship. I loved a life of luxury but yet he was content with living in a small urban apartment. I loved pop music while he preferred the sound of a cello. He didn’t know of my existence, and that drew me to him. He was something I could not have and so I wanted him so badly.

I decided the best way to get his attention was to learn how to play the piano. I know most people would have just tried talking to him or something but that just didn’t seem right to me. I wanted him to admire me, idolize me. So I tried… but I ultimately failed. Apparently I didn’t have the hands of a cellist, I had no musical talent at all.  I decided to talk to my friends about this. Of course they laughed at me, telling me I was stupid for trying but I really wanted him and the only way I could ever get her was if I knew how to play that damned piano. Then my DJ friend said something that made me think.

“Don’t you know, all those people with ‘talent’ sell their souls to the devil?” I know she was joking but what if? What if there was a chance that I could sell my soul for this musical talent. He’d have to like me now right?

I started to do as much research as possible in summoning the great demon lord himself. Of course there were loons telling me not to, bad things will happen and yaddah yaddah. I decided to hold the ritual at midnight, seemed like a good time and nopony would interrupt me. After the numerous incantations nothing happened… well nothing seemed to appear at first glance. There was something there, it wasn’t visible but I could tell it was there. So I asked to make a deal with it. It snickered and laughed but agreed. I would have musical talent and it would have my soul in exchange, all I had to do was sign the contract. Simple enough but that thing was huge, kind of like the terms and conditions I simply didn’t read it and signed at the bottom.

I’d soon learn that I should have read it. Damn was I stupid. As the demon promised, I was amazing. I had so much talent, I could read and write music and it sounded beautiful. I kindly asked the local theatre for it to open the doors and allow for me to play my beautiful yet chilling songs and surprisingly they agreed.  I remember I was so nervous on the night of my performance. Would he even be there? I couldn’t see him in the crowd; of course he wouldn’t be here I was an amateur. I played for hours and hours but to me it only seemed like a few minutes. I have to admit, it thrilled me to the bones. As I finished I simply stood up and bowed to the audience, but there was silence. Cold silence. Was what I played not good enough?  A sudden clap brought me back to reality. I looked up and I saw him.  He was the one clapping and soon others started to join him. We had a little after party and he came up and began talking to me, telling me how much he admired and enjoyed my performance.

After that night we kept in touch and talked almost every day. But as we kept talking…his voice… I could hear her getting weaker and weaker by the days. Then stories kept coming up that ponies started dropping like flies, ponies that went to watch me play. This kept happening and I couldn’t do anything about it. I hoped desperately that what was happening to Caramel wasn’t my fault, that it wasn’t what happened to the others. But alas, the poor colt died in his sleep. Doctors didn’t find anything wrong with him and they’re not sure about the cause. They simply say he just fell asleep and didn’t wake up. I was devastated and I still am. The one I loved. I finally got him in my grasp and she just… disappeared.

I decided to confront this damn demon. I’d make him tell me what the hay was going on. So I summoned him.

“Somebody didn’t read the contract fully huh?” The thing just laughed at my misery. But it was right, I didn’t read it properly, I didn’t read it at all. I asked to see the contract and it happily obliged. I read the whole thing this time and that’s when I noticed it. I hereby give the client amazing musical talent but the music that he creates will bring misfortune to all those who listen, including death. I was the cause of her death… it was me. I wanted to stop playing any cello; I didn’t want anyone else to suffer under my hands.

And so if you ever wander around an empty theatre and see on stage a lonely cellist sitting at his cello playing beautiful but chilling music; cover your ears and calmly walk out. Do not say a word and do not listen to a full song or you’ll just end up like the rest of them, dead.

The Holder of War

In any city in Equestria, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Gaze at the ceiling with a bored expression as you walk up to the front desk, and with a voice that sounds like it is halfway across the world ask to see the "Holder of War". You will get a light tap on the shoulder; it is now safe to look down. The attendant will smile politely and begin walking, giving a speech that sounds almost mechanical as he describes the history of the asylum. Do not react to his speech - it is insanely bloody and filled with rather graphic descriptions, but reaction at this point means a one-way trip to tartarus.

After some time of walking, you will come to an elaborately carved door of mahogany and gold. Stop in front of it. Keep your bored expression on your face, possibly adding a blank grin, but do not react as the worker grabs you by your tail, or he will change his grip and you will be without your head.

The worker will pitch you through the door, and you will hear it slam shut behind you. You are on what might have once been fertile farmland but is now a ravaged, blasted battlefield. Guards clad in two colors - a horribly bright, yet somehow stained, white and a filthy, sickening black - are battling in the most horrid manners possible, fighting with cannons, swords, bows, all the weapons of war that have existed or will exist.  

Do not shrink from this battlefield, or the soldiers will notice you, stop their quarrels, and turn upon you with a ravenous hatred, for you are what they have been fighting over, and in their fevered, battle-crazed minds, that means that you are the cause of all their bloodshed.

Also, do not try and go back through the door. It has fallen flat in the mud, pushed over by a screaming infantryman wielding a bayoneted spear. If you let him get the better of you, he will rip you to pieces in seconds, but somehow not manage to kill you. The pain of the experience will undoubtedly drive what is left of your mind mad.

Instead, drop your bored expression and put a grim, determined one on your face. Walk in measured, military-style steps straight ahead until you see a three-story tall structure of blasted concrete that might have once been a command bunker. Do not turn around while doing so; the armor has arrived to the field, and if you stop, or change your pace, the armies will run you down.

Once you have entered the bunker, do not give any notice to anypony who makes a request of you or tries to talk to you, no matter how desperate they seem. They each think you are the enemy, and the moment you respond, you will be rewarded with a knife to the face. Instead, go straight up the stairway in front of you, to the second level of the bunker. As you mount the stairs, a crash will be heard behind you - that's the fire doorway sealing as a flamethrower detachment attacks.

On the second level, there is only one stallion, sitting at a desk, yelling into a phone. The stairs to the third level are a mass of twisted concrete. The stallion at the desk wears the stars of a general, but does not seem to notice that the phone, as well as all those on the level, are dead.

Walk up to him, salute, and in your finest military voice, yell "SIR!" He will snap around to stare at you. If he thinks you are not worthy of his army, he will slowly dismantle you with his hooves, and you will join him in his oncoming death. If he thinks you are worthy, he will nod and stare pointedly at you. He does not like slackers, so quickly ask him your question.

The only one he will respond to is "Where do I go, Sir?"

He will tell you. He will tell you in such detail, such horrifying detail, that you will be tempted to strangle him. Do not try it - he is a far more experienced fighter than you could ever hope to be, and should you break salute, you will meet an extremely messy demise. When he is done, he will say "At ease", and hoof you his pistol. This is your cue to drop salute. Take the sidearm and put it in your holster - if you did not have one before, you do now.

An explosion will suddenly decimate the far wall and atomize the general. Through the hole you will see, on the horizon, the long, thin shape of a missile rising.

Shut your eyes tight and open them for nothing. The sounds of horrid battle will fade away, until out of the silence, a single gunshot rings out. Open your eyes.

You are standing in the middle of a field of waving wheat. Somehow, you know that this is where the horrific battle you walked through will take place. And you also know, somehow, that you will be in the general's place.

The pistol he handed you is Object 44 of 538. Learn how to use it - it has one magazine left. If you fire the last shot at the right time, you will avoid the fate of the general. If not, you will join him.

Smile

I first met in person with Reacty Shay. in the summer of 2007. I had arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Dutch, to see her for an interview. Reacty had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction. We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in Manehatten on unrelated business, but at the last moment Reacty changed her mind and locked herself in the couple’s bedroom, refusing to meet with me. For half an hour I sat with Dutch as we camped outside the bedroom door, I listening and taking notes while he attempted fruitlessly to calm his wife.

The things Reacty said made little sense but fit with the pattern I was expecting: though I could not see her, I could tell from her voice that she was crying, and more often than not her objections to speaking with me centered around an incoherent diatribe on her dreams — her nightmares. Dutch apologized profusely when we ceased the exercise, and I did my best to take it in stride; recall that I wasn’t a reporter in search of a story, but merely a curious young man in search of information. Besides, I thought at the time, I could perhaps find another, similar case if I put my mind and resources to it.

Reacty S. (based on what I've been told) first encountered the picture while grocery shopping. She and Dutch had been married for only five months. Reacty was one of an estimated 400 ponies who saw the picture when somepony happened to stumble upon it.  Reacty was the first to openly talk about it.  The others have remained anonymous or are dead.  

In 2005, when I was only in tenth grade, 'smile' was first brought to my attention by my burgeoning interest in horror stories; Reacty was the most often cited victim of what is sometimes referred to as “Smile dog,” the being 'smile' is reputed to display. What caught my interest (other than the obvious macabre elements of the legend and my proclivity toward such things) was the sheer lack of information, usually to the point that people don’t believe it even exists other than as a rumor or hoax.

It is unique because, though the entire phenomenon centers on a picture.  That picture is nowhere to be found; certainly many photomanipulated simulacra litter ponies personal photo albums, showing up with the most frequency lying on the street.  It is suspected these are fakes because they do not have the effect the true 'smile' is believed to have, namely sudden onset temporal lobe epilepsy and acute anxiety.

This purported reaction in the viewer is one of the reasons the phantom-like 'smile' is regarded with such disdain, since it is patently absurd, though depending on whom you ask the reluctance to acknowledge 'smile' existence might be just as much out of fear as it is out of disbelief.

Encounters with smile are the stuff of legend.  Reacty's story is not unique; there are unverified rumors of smile showing up out of nowhere.  Like getting mail from somepony named "Anonymous".  Most often, the picture would come with a caption saying "SMILE, CELESTIA LOVES YOU!!"

Those who claim to have seen smile often weakly joke that they were far too busy to keep the photo they found.  However, all alleged victims offer the same description of the photo: A dog-like creature (usually described as appearing similar to a Siberian husky), illuminated by the flash of the camera, sits in a dim room, the only background detail that is visible being a hoof extending from the darkness near the left side of the frame. The hoof is empty, but is usually described as “beckoning.” Of course, most attention is given to the dog (or dog-creature, as some victims are more certain than others about what they claim to have seen). The muzzle of the beast is reputedly split in a wide grin, revealing two rows of very white, very straight, very sharp, very pony-looking teeth.

This is, of course, not a description given immediately after viewing the picture, but rather a recollection of the victims, who claim to have seen the picture endlessly repeated in their mind’s eye during the time they are, in reality, having epileptic fits. These fits are reported to continue indeterminably, often while the victims sleep, resulting in very vivid and disturbing nightmares. These may be treated with medication, though in someses it is more effective than others.

Reacty S., I assumed, was not on effective medication. That was why after my visit to her apartment in 2007 I set out to find somepony who had an actual encounter of the real smile picture.  For a time nothing happened and at length I forgot completely about my pursuits, since I had begun my freshman year of college and was quite busy. Reacty contacted me through mail, however, near the beginning of March 2008.

The envelope was sloppy, as well as the handwriting.  Though she seemed calm in her writing.  

        Dear Mr. L.,

         I am incredibly sorry about my behavior last summer when you came to interview me. I hope you understand that it was no fault of yours, but rather my own problems that led me to act out as I did. I realized that I could have handled the situation more decorously; however, I hope you will forgive me. At the time, I was afraid.

You see, for fifteen years I have been haunted by smile. Smile dog comes to me in my sleep every night. I know that sounds silly, but it is true. There is an ineffable quality about my dreams, my nightmares, that makes them completely unlike any real dreams I have ever had. I do not move and do not speak. I simply look ahead, and the only thing ahead of me is the scene from that horrible picture. I see the beckoning hoof, and I see Smile dog. It talks to me.

It is not a dog, of course, though I am not quite sure what it really is. It tells me it will leave me alone if only I do as it asks. All I must do, it says, is “spread the word.” That is how it phrases its demands. And I know exactly what it means: it wants me to show it to someone else.

And I could. The week after my incident I received in the mail a manila envelope with no return address. Inside was only a small photo that was folded in half. Without having to check, I knew precisely what was on it.

I thought for a long time about my options. I could show it to a stranger, a coworker… I could even show it to Dutch, as much as the idea disgusted me. And what would happen then? Well, if Smile dog kept its word I could sleep. Yet if it lied, what would I do? And who was to say something worse would not come for me if I did as the creature asked?

So I did nothing for fifteen years, though I kept the photo hidden amongst my things. Every night for fifteen years Smile dog has come to me in my sleep and demanded that I spread the word. For fifteen years I have stood strong, though there have been hard times. Many of my fellow victims across Equestria don't go outside at all.  I heard some of them committed suicide. Others remained completely silent, simply disappearing. They are the ones I worry about the most.

I sincerely hope you will forgive me, Mr. L., but last summer when you contacted me and my husband about an interview I was near the breaking point. I decided I was going to give you the photo. I did not care if Smile dog was lying or not, I wanted it to end. You were a stranger, someone I had no connection with, and I thought I would not feel sorrow when you took the photo as part of your research and sealed your fate.

Before you arrived I realized what I was doing: was plotting to ruin your life. I could not stand the thought, and in fact I still cannot. I am ashamed, Mr. L., and I hope that this warning will dissuade you from further investigation of smile. You may in time encounter someone who is, if not weaker than I, then wholly more depraved, someone who will not hesitate to follow Smile dog’s orders.

Stop while you are still whole.

Sincerely,

ReactyS.

        Dutch contacted me later that month with the news that his wife had killed herself. While cleaning up the various things she’d left behind, he happened upon the above message. He was a man in shambles; he wept as he told me to listen to his wife’s advice. He’d found the photo, he revealed, and burned it until it was nothing but ashes.  The part that most disturbed him, however, was how the photo had hissed as it burned. Like some sort of animal, he said.

I will admit that I was a little uncertain about how to respond to this. At first I thought perhaps it was a joke, with the couple belatedly playing with the situation in order to get a rise out of me. A quick check of several Equestrian newspapers’ obituaries, however, proved that Reacty S. was indeed dead. There was, of course, no mention of suicide in the article. I decided that, for a time at least, I would not further pursue the subject of smile jpg, especially since I had finals coming up at the end of May.

But the world has odd ways of testing us. Almost a full year after I’d returned from my disastrous interview with Reacty S., I received another mail.

This envelope was much neater.  It was written in cursive and everything seemed like it was made by a pony with OCD.  

Hello

I found your adress through an anonymous source.  The source mentioned that you are interested in smile.  I have saw it it is not as bad as everypony says. I have sent it to you here. Just spreading the word.

The final line chilled me to the bone.

There was a small, folded photo with it. I considered opening it for some time. It was mostly likely a fake, I imagined, and even if it weren’t I was never wholly convinced of smile's peculiar powers. Reacty S.’s story had shaken me, yes, but she was probably mentally unbalanced anyway. After all, how could a simple image do what smile was said to accomplish? What sort of creature was it that could break one’s mind with only the power of the eye?

And if such things were patently absurd, then why did the legend exist at all?

If I unfolded the picture, if I looked at it, and if Reacty turned out to be correct, if Smile dog came to me in my dreams demanding I spread the word, what would I do? Would I live my life as Reacty had, fighting against the urge to give in until I died? Or would I simply spread the word, eager to be put to rest? And if I chose the latter route, how could I do it? Whom would I burden in turn?

I could very well leave it on the ground of a busy street, and anyone taking notice in the abandoned picture would be affected.  I could just show it to a friend or an acquaintance, or somepony I don't even know.  I could corner somepony in an alleyway and force them to look at it.  I could kidnap a pony and made them look at it.

Could I spread the word?

Yes. Yes I could.

Ticci-Toby

The long road home seemed to go on and on. The road continued to outstretch in front of the cart endlessly.

The light that shone through the branches of the tall green trees danced across the window in random patterns, every once in a while, obnoxiously shining in your eyes.

The surrounding was full of deep green trees forming a forest around the road. The only sound was the sound of the *clop clop clop* of the taxi-puller as he traveled down the path. It was peaceful and let off a serene feeling.

Although the ride seemed like a nice one, it lacked every form of ‘nice’ for both passengers.

The middle-aged woman sitting in the cart had neat short brown hair that fit her complexion quite well. She wore a green v-neck t-shirt. Diamond stud earrings decorated each of her ears which partially showed from behind her hair cut. She had deep green eyes which were brought out by her shirt, and the lighting seemed to make them more noticeable. There wasn't much significance to her appearance. She just looked like any ‘average mother’ that you’d see on TV shows and such, but one thing for sure made her differ from those ‘average mothers’ and that was the dark bags under her eyes.

Her facial expression was gloomy and sad, although she genuinely looked like one who smiled a lot.

She would sniffle every once in a while, and occasionally look back at her son, who was hunched over partially, his hooves held tight around his chest, and his head pressed against the cold window.

The boy lacked any normal appearance, anyone could blandly see that something was wrong with him. His messy brown hair went in every which way, and his pale, almost gray skin was brought out by luminescent lighting. His eyes were dark, unlike his mother’s.  He wore a simple t-shirt and scrub pants that had been provided to him by the hospital. The clothes he had worn before were so shredded and blood stained, that they weren't ‘wearable’ any more.

The right side of his face bared a few cuts along with his split eyebrow. His right arm was bandaged up all the way up to his shoulder, which had been shredded when his right side had hit the shattered glass.

His injuries appeared to be painful, when really he couldn't feel a thing. He never could feel a thing. That was just one of the glories about being him. One of the many challenges he had to face growing up, was growing up with the rare disease that caused him to be completely numb towards pain. Never before had he felt himself get hurt. He could have lost an arm and felt nothing. That and another major disorder he had faced, was the one that deemed him many insulting nick names in the short time he attended grade school, before he was moved to home schooling was his Tourette Syndrome, which caused him to tic and twitch in ways he couldn't control. He would crack his neck uncontrollably and twitch every once in a while. The kids would tease him and call him Ticci-Toby and mock him with exaggerated twitching and laughing. It got so bad he turned to homeschooling. It was too hard for him to be in a common learning environment with seemingly every kid poking, or more like stabbing fun at him.

Toby stared blankly out the window, his face was empty of any depict-able emotion, and every few minutes his shoulder or foot would twitch. Every bump that the car tires hit, made him stomach turn.

Toby was the boy’s name. And the last time Toby remembered riding a taxi cart, was when it crashed.

That's all he thought about. Unconsciously replaying everything he had remembered before he blacked out, over and over again. 
Toby had been the lucky one, when his sister hadn't been so lucky. When the thought of his older sister came, he couldn't help but let his eyes begin to tear up. The horrible memories replayed in his mind. Her screaming that had been cut off when the front of the cart was smashed in. It all went blank for a moment before Toby opened his eyes to see his sister’s body, her forehead pierced with glass shards, her hips and legs where crushed under the force of something that Toby didn't recognize, her torso pushed in from the force of wood. This was the last thing he had seen of his dear older sister.

The road home continued on for what seemed like forever. It took so long to get home due to his mother wanting to avoid passing the sight of the crash.

When the surrounding gave into a familiar neighborhood, they had both been more then ready to get out of the cart and step back into their own home.

It was a older neighborhood, with quaint little houses all next to each other. The cart parked in front of a little blue house, with white window panes.

They both quickly noticed the saddle-bags, and the familiar figure who stood out in the drive way. Toby felt automatic anger and frustration take over him at the sight of his father. His father who wasn't there.

“Why is he here?” Toby said quietly as he looked back at his mother who reached to open the car door.

“He’s your father Toby, he’s here because he wants to see you,” His mother responded with a monotone voice, trying to sound less shaky.

“Yet he couldn't have driven up to the hospital to see Lyra before she died,” Toby narrowed his eyes out the window.

“He was drunk that night honey, he couldn't drive-”


“Yeah when is he not,” Toby pushed open the door before his mother and stumbled out onto the driveway where he met his father’s gaze before looking down at his hooves with a stern expression.

His mother stepped out behind him and met her husbands eyes before walking around the car.

His father lifted a hoof, expecting a hug from his wife, but she walked passed him and put her hoof on Toby’s shoulder and influenced him to begin walking inside.

“Vial,” her husband began to say under a raspy voice, “What no welcome home hug huh?”

She ignored her husbands obnoxious words and walked passed him with her son under her hoof. 
“Hey, He’s 16 he can walk by himself,” his father began to follow them in.

“He’s 17,” Glisten Vial glared back at him before opening the door to the house and stepping inside.  “Toby, why don’t we get you in your room to rest okay? I’ll come get you when dinner is ready-”


“No, I’m 16 I can walk by myself,” Toby said sarcastically, and glared back at his father before stumbling up the small stair case and turning into his room where he slammed the door violently.

His little room didn't have much in it. Just a small bed, a dresser, a window, and his walls had a few framed pictures of his family, back when they where a family. 
Before his father became an alcoholic, and acted violently towards the rest of his family. Toby remembered when he was arguing with his mother and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her to the floor, and when Lyra had tried to break it up, he pushed her and she hit her back on the corner of the kitchen counter. Toby could never forgive him for what he did to his mother and sister. Never.

Toby didn't care how much his father beat him down, he couldn't feel it anyway, what he did care about was how he intentionally hurt the only two people he cared about.

And when he waiting in the hospital, where his sister took her last few breaths, the only person who didn't rush there, was his dad.

Toby stood by the window and looked out onto the street. He could have sworn he saw things out of the corner of his eye, but quickly blamed it on the medication he had been put on.

When dinner time had come around and his mother called up to him, Toby came down the stairs and hesitantly sat down at the table across from his father, and in between his mother and an empty chair.

It was quiet as his parents picked at their food, but Toby refused to eat. Instead he just watched his dad with a blank stare.

His mother caught onto his stare towards his father and elbowed him slightly. Toby looked over at her slightly and look down at his uneaten food, in which he didn't touch.

Toby laid in bed, he pulled his covers over his head and stared at the window. He was tired but there was no way he would fall asleep. He couldn't, there was too much to think about. He had been debating on whether or not to follow his mothers directions and forgive his father, or continue holding a grudge with his boiling hatred.

He heard his door creak open, and his mother padded into the room and sat on the bed next to him. She reached over and rubbed his back, which had been turned to her.

“I know its hard Toby, trust me, I understand, but I promise you it will get better” she said softly.

“When is he going to leave?” Toby said with a innocent tone in his shaky voice.

Glisten let her gaze fall down to her feet. “I don’t know honey, he's staying as far as I know,” she replied.

Toby didn't respond. He just continued to look forward at the wall, holding his damaged hoof near his chest.

After a few minutes of silence, his mother sighed, before she leaned in to kiss his cheek and stood up to walk out of the room. “Good night,” she said as she closed the door.


The hours passed slowly, and Toby couldn't quit tossing and turning. Every time he let his imagination take over, he heard the screeching of tires, the screaming of his sister, and he could uncontrollably jerk in bed. He threw off his covers, laying on his back, he pulled his pillow over his face and cried into it. He could feel his chest rise and fall as he let out each shaky breathe as he cried. He could hear his own pitiful weeping. He would have been screaming and crying if he didn't press his pillow over his face.

After a few seconds he threw the pillow off his face as well and sat up, hunched over, holding his head and breathing roughly, tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn't help but cry. He tried to keep it in, but he couldn't help but whine and whimper as he sat there shaking. He inhaled before he stood up and walked around his bed to the window and peered out, taking deep breathes trying to calm down. He rubbed his eyes and looked out at the group of tall pine trees across the street.

He stopped suddenly, and his gaze slowly centered on something standing under the street light. He heard ringing in his ears and he couldn't look away. The figure stood beside the street light, about 2 feet shorter then it, long arms draped at it’s sides as it stared up at him with non-existing eyes. The figure had no features what-so-ever. No eyes, no mouth, no nose, yet it held Toby’s hypnotized stare, seemingly peering into his very being. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder each second he stared before suddenly it all went black.

The next morning Toby woke in his bed. He felt different. He wasn't tired at all, and when he consciously woke up, it felt like he had been lying there, awake for hours. He had no thoughts flowing through his mind. He sat up slowly and stumbled over to the wall, but when he stood up he automatically felt dizzy. He stumbled to the doorway and walked down the stairs. His parents were sitting at the table, his father was in-tuned with the small TV that sat on the counter top, and his mother reading the newspaper. She quickly looked over when she felt Toby’s presence looming behind her.

“Well, good morning sleepy head, you’ve been sleeping forever,” She greeted him with hesitated smile.

Toby slowly looked over at the clock and noticed that it was 12:30 p.m.

“I made you breakfast but it got cold, I was going to wake you, but I felt you needed sleep,” her expression fell from happy to worried as her son resisted responding to her.

“Are you alright?”

Toby stumbled over and sat by his father. He felt as if he was on idle, and had no control over his actions. He was seeing everything he did, but it didn’t seem to register in his brain properly. He reached out to to his fathers hoof, but his own hoof ended up getting shoved away. His father turned to him abruptly.

“Don’t touch me boy!” He yelled.

His mother stood up, “Alright knock that off! That is the last thing we need!”

The days went by, and things continued on as they where. Glisten spent most of her time cleaning up the house, and her rude husband spent most of his time ordering her around. It was just how it used to be before the crash.

Toby never really left his room. He would sit by his bed, and tremble. His mind would wonder, but his thoughts changed too fast to be remembered. He would pace around his small room like a caged animal, or stare out the window. The unhealthy cycle continued.

Glisten continued to be pushed around by her husband, being way too submissive to him, and Toby remained in his room.

Before he could think twice, he would begin to chew on his hands, tearing the flesh from his fingers. He would gnaw at his own legs until they bled. When his mother walked in on him while he was doing so, she reacted horribly. She rushed him downstairs and grabbed the first aid, wrapping his legs in it. She demanded that he wouldn’t leave her side from then.

He isolated himself so much that he grew to hate being around others. His memory grew glitchy as well. He’d start missing memory of minutes, hours, days, and so on. He would begin talking nonsense, about things completely unrelated to conversations he would have. He’d go off about seeing things, sharks in his sink as he washed the dishes, hearing crickets in his pillows, and seeing ghosts outside his bedroom window. All the nonsense landed him in a counselors office. His mother grew too anxious about his mental health, she decided it would be good for him to talk to a professional about what he was feeling.

Glisten walked Toby into the building, holding his hoof and guiding him in. She walked him up to the front desk and began talking to the lady who sat behind it.

“Glisten Vial?” The lady asked.

“Yes that’s me,” Glisten nodded, “We’re here to see Doctor Stable, I’m here with Toby Vial.”


“Yes, right this way,” The lady stood up and lead them down a long hallway. Toby looked at the framed artwork down the halls and tuned in to the sound of the lady’s trots on the hard wood floor. 
She opened the door to a room with a table and two chairs. 
“If we can get him to sit in here for a few minutes, I’ll get the doctor,” She smiled and held the door open.

Toby stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He looked over at his mother and the lady before the door slowly shut behind them. He looked around the room before he held up his tightly bandaged hooves and began to bite at the bandages to unwrap his hands, but was interrupted as the door swung open and a stallion in a doctors outfit and a brown mane stepped in, holding a clip board and a pen.


“Toby?” he asked with a smile.

Toby looked up at him and nodded.

“Good evening Toby, my name is Doctor Stable.” he put his hoof out for him to shake but hesitantly pulled away when he noticed his bandaged hands.

“Oh,” he smiled nervously before clearing her throat and sitting in the chair across the table from him.

“So I’m going to ask you a few questions, try to answer then as honestly as possible okay?” he placed her clip board down on the table. Toby nodded slowly.

“How old are you Toby?”

“17” he responded quietly.

He wrote that down on the paper that was clipped to the clipboard.

“What is your full name?”


“Toby Vial.”

“What is your birthday?”


“April 28th”


“Who is your immediate family?” 
Toby paused for a minute before answering her question, “My Mom, My Dad, and…” he stopped, “M-my sister.”

“I heard about your sister… I’m really sorry,” his expression faded into a sad, pity-filled look.

Toby nodded.

“Do you remember anything from the crash Toby?”


Toby looked away from him. His mind went blank for a moment. He looked down at his lap, and in the surrounding, he heard a faint ringing sound. His eyes widened and he froze in his place.

“Toby?” the counselor asked.

“Toby are you listening?”

Toby felt a shiver go down his spine until he froze once again and slowly looked over out the little window through the door, where he saw it. A dark feature-less figure, peering in at him. He stared, eyes widened, the ringing growing louder and louder until suddenly the loud voice of the counselor broke his trance.

“Toby!” He yelled.

Toby jumped and fell sideways out of his chair and back up into the corner.

Doctor Stable stood up, a surprised look in his eyes.

Toby met his eyes again, his breath hitching as he twitched.

That night Toby laid in bed. His eyes dazed as he stared straight up at his ceiling. He could feel himself begin to doze off, when he heard the scattering of hoofsteps down his hallway. He sat up and looked towards the doorway, his door wide open. There was no light, everything was lit by the luminescent blue glow of the moon through his window, leaving a cold lighting. He sat up and slowly made his way towards the doorway, when suddenly the door, which was previously wide open, slammed in his face. He gasped and fell back.

His was out of breathe when he hit the ground and he began breathing heavily, his eyes wide open. He waited for a few seconds before getting back up on all fours. He reached out and grasped the cold door handle with his bandaged hoof and creaked it open. He looked out into the dark hallway and tiptoed out of his room. The window at the end of the hallway lit up the darkness with blue moonlight as he padded his way down. He could hear hoofsteps rustling around him, and faint giggling let by the pitter patter of small hooves, which sounded like a foal had run in front of him, giggling and running around. The hallway was a lot longer then he had remembered. It seemed endless… like the ride home from the hospital. He heard a door creak in front of him.

“Mom?” he called out in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a door slammed behind him and he jumped and turned around. Behind him he heard a long eerie groan from behind him, that sounded to croak right in his ear. He turned around as fast as he could and was suddenly face to face with none other then his dead sister. Her eyes where clouded white, her skin pale, and the right side of her jaw only dangling on by tissue and muscle, glass protruding from her forehead, and black blood leaking down her face, her green and white mane pulled up back in a pony tail as it always was, and places where her body was spotted with blood. Her legs were bent in ways they shouldn’t be. She stood, emitting a long croaking noise, only an inch away from Toby’s face.

Toby yelped and fell back.

“AW!” he started to crawl backwards away from her, not able to break the eye contact he held with her, blank, dead eyes. He dragged himself backwards until he backed up into something.

He stopped for a second. Everything was dead silent except for his heavy breathing and crying. He slowly looked up to meet the blank face of a tall dark figure that stood over him. Behind the tall dark mass where rows of foals, looking to range from 3 to 10 years, their eyes completely black and dark black blood leaked from their eye sockets.

He screamed and stood up as fast as he could only to be tripped by dark black tendrils that wrapped around his ankle. He fell straight on his stomach and got the wind knocked out of his chest. He tried to scream out but he couldn’t make a sound. He wheezed out, before it all went black.

Toby woke up with a start. He screamed out and sat up as fast as he could, completely short of breathe. He wheezed out and held his chest with his bandaged hands. It was just a dream…. just a dream. He laid back down on his bed and rolled over on his side. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted off his chest as he took in deep breathes. He sat up and padded over to his window. He saw nothing. Nobody was out there. No ghosts. No figures. Nothing.

He heard the rustling and coughing of his father out the doorway. His door was closed.

He walked over and opened it. Looking out into the hallway once again. He padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where he found his dad standing and having a smoke in their living room.

Toby waited a second and watched him from around the corner before a burning feeling started deep in his chest.

Deep, boiling, anger took over him. He heard the little imaginary voices in his head.

“Do it, Do it, Do it,” they chanted.

He turned away. He felt like he actually had control over himself, unlike he did for the past few weeks since he got home from the hospital. He actually had complete thoughts for just moments before they where clouded by the chanting of the little voices in his head.

“Kill him, he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there, kill him, kill him,” they continued on. Toby trembled. No. No he wasn’t going to do it. What, was he going crazy? No. He won’t kill anyone. He can’t. He hated his father, but hated no way he was going to kill him.

That was it. The last thought he had before he fell into an idle state once again. The influence of the voices in his head was too much. He began to silently walk up behind his father. He reached over the counter to the knife holder in the kitchen and pulled out a the largest knife that had been resting in the case. He gripped it in his hand. He felt a sensation take over his chest. He let out a snicker.

“Heh… heheh… hehehehehe! HAHAHAHA!” he began laughing so hard he had to gasp for breathe. His father turned around abruptly before he felt a brute force shove him to the floor. He grunted as the hair was knocked out of him.

“What!” he looked up at the colt who stood over him, grasping the kitchen knife in his hoof.

“Toby what are you doing!” he went to sit up and put his wings out in front of him in self defense but before he knew it Toby was on top of him. He went to grab at his neck, but his father reached out and blocked his hooves by grabbing onto this leg.

“Stop! Get off of me you little bucker!” he yelled and with his other hand he threw an off center punch towards Toby’s shoulder, but he didn’t stop.

The look in Toby’s eyes was not sane. It looked as if a demon had taken control over him. He yelled back and went to stab the knife into his father’s chest but he blocked him and grabbed onto his leg once again. He went to shove him back, but Toby kicked out his feet in front of him and landed a hard blow straight to his face. His father recoiled and pulled his hoof away to cuff his face, but Toby got back up and drove the knife straight into his shoulder. 
His father let out a loud cry and went to pull the knife out, but before he could, Toby threw his fist straight into his face.

He began to pound his fists into his head, laughing and wheezing. He cracked his neck and grabbed the knife and ripped it out of his shoulder. He drove it deep into his dad’s chest and repeatedly stabbed into his torso, blood spilling out and getting splattered everywhere. He didn’t stop until his father’s body went still. He threw the knife over to the side and leaned over his body, coughing and panting. He stared at his smashed in face and sat there twitching, until a loud scream broke the silence. He looked over to see his mother standing a few feet away, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her eyes.

“Toby!” she screamed, “Why did you do that!?” she cried.

“W-why!?” She screamed. 
Toby stood up and began to back away from his father’s bloody corpse. He began to back out of the kitchen. He looked down at the blood soaked bandages on his hooves and looked up at his mother one last time before he turned and ran out of the house. He ran outside to the shed out back. He grabbed his father’s two hatchets that had been hanging on the tool rack above a table full of jars, filled to the brim with old rusted nails and screws.

One hatchet was new, it had a bright orange handle and a shiny blade, the other was old with a wooden handle and a old dull blade. He grabbed both and looked down at the table and his eyes met a box of matches, and under the table was a red gasoline tank. He held both of the hatchets in his magical grasp and grabbed the matches and gasoline before running out of the garage, down the driveway and up the street. As he approached the street light that he could see out his own bedroom window he heard police sirens in to distance.

He turned around and the red and blue flashing lights came rushing down the street. Toby stood for a second, before he pulled open the cap on the gasoline tank and ran down the street, spilling gasoline all over the street after him and he turned to run into the trees. He poured the last bit of gasoline out before he reached in his pocket and pulled out a match. He struck it against the box and immediately dropped it. In an instant, flames burst out around him. The fire caught onto the trees and bushes around him and before he knew it, he was surrounded by fire. The silhouettes of police cars where visible through the flames as he backed away into the forest around him. He looked around but his vision was blurred, his heart was pounding and he closed his eyes for a moment. This was it. This was the end.

Toby felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked over to see a large white hand with long boney fingers that rested on his shoulder. He followed the arm that was attached to the hand up to a towering dark figure. It appeared to be wearing a dark black suit, and it’s face was completely blank. It towered over Toby’s small frame and it looked down on him. Tendrils reached out from it’s back. Before Toby knew it, his vision blurred and he was surrounded by the sound of ringing in his ears. Everything went blank.

That was it. That was the end. That was how Toby vial died.

A few weeks later Glisten sat in her sister’s kitchen. Her sister, Pommel sat next to her drinking a cup of coffee.

About three weeks ago, Glisten lost her husband, and her son, and a few weeks before, she lost her daughter to a car crash. Since then she moved in with her sister. The police were keeping her busy, they had just finished cleaning up the case, and the story had been released two weeks ago, and the focus of the world seemed to have shifted to completely new stories.

Pommel switched on the T.V. to a news broadcast. On the T.V. the news reporter began introducing the new headline.

“We have breaking news! Last night there has been a reported murder of 4 individuals. There are no suspects yet but the victims where a group of middle school kids who had been out in the woods late last night. The kids had been ‘bludgeoned’ and stabbed to death. The investigators had discovered a weapon at the crime scene which appears to be a old, dull bladed hatchet, as you can see here” The pictured changed to show snap shots of the weapon exactly as it was left on the crime scene.

“Investigators had pulled the name of a possible suspect, Toby Vial, a 17 year old colt who a few weeks ago had stabbed his father to death and tried to cover up his escape by setting a fire in the streets and the forest area around the neighborhood. Although they had believed the young colt had died in the fire, investigators suspect that Vial may still be alive, due to the fact that his body was never found.”

The Holder of the Cosmos

In any city or town in Equestria go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Get the front receptionist's attention and ask to visit some pony called "Holder of the Cosmos". He will look you up and down. If he mutters and walks away, stay in place - he will return momentarily. Upon his arrival he will unlock a trapdoor beneath his desk and motion for you to follow. He will lead you down an ancient, creaking staircase made of wooden planks. It remains somehow suspended in an impossibly large room, the sides or bottom of which you will not be able to fathom. The only light will be from the quickly receding entryway. Vast, hulking shapes lumber in the darkness - I recommend that you do not make any noises louder than the gentle squeaking of the stairs.

Your guide will remain only a few steps ahead of you, but in the oppressive darkness his features remain unclear. You will be descending the stairs for what seems like an eternity. During this time, do not let your thoughts wander. Focus entirely on your objective - the Keeper of the Cosmos. As you sink farther into the blackness, wooden planks swaying beneath your hooves, your guide's form may seem to shift. It is not a trick of your eyes. If he stops at any time, throw yourself from the stairs immediately - an eternity of falling would be preferable to his torment.

However, should he continue to move, you will eventually begin to feel a wind pick up. Far below you, the tops of trees will become visible. Above your head, a vault of stars and clouds. To your sides, a vast and unimpeded horizon, save for one structure far to your right. As you descend further, you can see it is a mansion with a small dirt road leading from it. This part of the descent is incredibly peaceful and will last for several hours. Enjoy it, but do not under any circumstance look back from where you came. The rickety staircase will collapse and you will plummet to your death.

Eventually you will reach the bottom of the stairs. They will have deposited you in a thickly wooded forest, a few yards from a dirt road. Your guide will stop moving. In the sparse shafts of moonlight filtering down between the trees, you will notice that he has changed considerably. Where once stood a stallion now stands a hellish, hulking beast. He will begin to turn. You must run. The staircase you recently descended will have disappeared. Your only choice is the road. The demon is slow, but he will not relent.

Run. Run until your lungs burn and your chest heaves. Run until your throat is slick with blood. Until you cannot run any longer. Give up hope. Fall to the ground. Weep. You will feel the demon's breath at your legs, and you will mumble a prayer into the dirt road as you see your life flash before your eyes. At that very moment, as you have lost all hope, a gunshot will roar into the void of the darkened forest road. The demon at your back will have been slain.

This next moment is crucial. No matter how winded you are, you must stand up and immediately say: "Who is their enemy?" If you wait a split second too long you will be blown to bits in a similar fashion to the demon. However, if you are fast enough, an elegantly dressed gentle colt will trot out of the darkness a few steps down the road. He appears rather young and is holding an ornately crafted, 18th century pistol in his right hand. He has several large tomes strapped to the saddlebags of and bits of script in a foreign language are visible pasted, in a fashionable way, to various bits of his clothing. He will slowly approach you, visibly interested in your appearance. You must hold his gaze until he disappears in the opposite direction. Following this exchange your exhaustion will suddenly catch up with you, and you will find it increasingly difficult to stay awake. Give in to your weariness and sleep.

You will awake the next day in your bed, clutching a rough piece of paper. On it, in an elegant script, are written the words: "You are a fool."

That man is the Holder of the Cosmos, and he still holds Object 67 of 538. He defends the cosmos from their revival. Now that he knows your intentions, he will do anything to stop you.

There is, however, an alternate option. You must already bear the Widowmaker for this to work. Instead, when you rise, ask the Holder not, "Who is their enemy?" but instead show him Object 186. If you do, his eyes will widen in surprise and he walk towards you. In his hoof will be the white, ornate 18th-century pistol he used moments previously to save you. It is the brother of Object 186. He will then ride into the distance, soon fading.

The Holder of Cosmos has relinquished the Gravebringer, Object 67 out of 538. You have freed him - but at what cost? For you must now defend the cosmos from their revival in his stead.

La Nuit

In Prance, a young ambient musician by the name of Affera undertook an interesting new project. He was going to record the sound of himself sleeping, and release it under the name “La Nuit” (The Night).

Affera lived alone in a rural area, which would remove things like community affairs, late-night taxi stallions, and such from being recorded.

He planned his project for many months, acquiring the sensitive equipment to capture all outside noises as well as his own during sleep.

Finally, on the 27th of September, he decided to execute his plan. He set up all his equipment, and fell asleep at midnight.

The next day Affera reviewed the recording.

For the first hour, the recording played his own tossings and turnings as well as some distant dog barks and the quiet rustle of leaves

These continued throughout the 2nd hour as well, until Affera heard something that horrified him.

At exactly 3 hours and 24 minutes in, the recording played the sound of his bedroom door opening.

Day of the Dead

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, of course.”

“I thought that’s what your job was about: talking?”

“Actually Ms. Cheerilee, I would say that my job is about trust. I can’t expect ponies who don’t trust me to talk about sensitive things with me. So this session is entirely in your hands.”

“I’ll talk about it. Therapy was my idea, after all. They said that since there was just the one incident it wasn’t really necessary but…I thought it was a good idea.”

“All right then. Tell me what happened.”

“It was just a drawing on the sidewalk. A stencil, you know? Artists leave them around town, sometimes, and I was out shopping with my family when my son pointed it out. It was a skeleton wearing a top hat, and it had the word ‘Saturday’ underneath it. What do you think that means?”

“It sounds like Baron Samedi.”

“Who?”

“He’s a loa; a voodoo spirit. He watches over the dead and he’s usually represented by a top hat and a skull. ‘Samedi’ means ‘Saturday.’ So this drawing frightened you?”

“I had a kind of fit when I saw it. They called it an anxiety attack. They even took me to the hospital.”

“And what did they find out?”

“They said there’s nothing wrong with me physically. They talked about stress and lack of sleep. And they said I should take it easy but not to worry unless it happened again. But I’m worried anyway.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?”

“Once. The same day…that my son died.”

“You said your son was the one who noticed the stencil?”

“That’s my youngest son, Dylan. I had an older son, Jonah. But he’s not with us anymore. He was murdered five years ago.”

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Cheerilee. Can I ask if you received any psychological counseling afterwards?”

“No. I was busy with Dylan, you see. Isn’t it strange? The day Jonah died was the same day I found out I was pregnant again. And I guess I just….poured everything into managing the pregnancy. So that I wouldn’t think about anything else. And for years, I didn’t. Not until this week. Should I talk about the murder?”

“As I said, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“I…I’ll talk about it.

“Jonah was fifteen; I had him when I was still in high school. He was very gifted. He played the cello, and the piano, and they made him the organist at our church. That was what got him into trouble.

“The minister was friends with my husband, Jonah’s stepfather, and he loved to hear Jonah play, so he put him at the organ. Everyone loved him. It wasn’t just that Jonah was talented, he was…I guess you could say he had a performer’s charisma. I…I’m sorry, it’s hard to talk about…”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Cheerilee. Should we change the subject?”

“No, I’ve already said this much. Something people liked about Jonah, he would always play the hymns but he’d play some of his own music too, before and after the service. He composed his own material; it was very strange sounding, but everyone liked it. Well, almost everyone: One day a man came to us after church and told him to stop.”

“Told him to stop playing?”

“Told him to stop playing his own music. He was very upset. He looked like he hadn’t had much sleep; he might have been drunk. He told us that the song Jonah played that day was…wrong, somehow. That it was driving him crazy. He was screaming at us in the parking lot, telling us that we didn’t realize what we were doing, that he’d spent his whole life trying to get away from that music. It didn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me about the song?”

“It was very odd, now that you mention it. It was…bouncy. It made me think of the circus, for some reason. It made sense if you knew Jonah, though; he was always playing for laughs. I heard him practicing it in his room. It made me feel…unsettled, the first time I heard it.”

“Hmm. And what about this man?”

“Well, that day in the parking lot he just ran off, after scaring the daylights out of us. But the next week, he came back. …with a gun.”

“Mrs. Cheerilee—”

“It was the Day of the Dead. November 1st. I remember that. Someone had left something on the organ for Jonah, as a joke. You know those Day of the Dead decorations, the little statuettes of skeletons doing everyday things? Skeleton housewives cooking or a skeleton barber with scissors and a razor or—”

“A therapist.”

“Huh?”

“I have one that’s a skeleton therapist, with a skeleton patient on his couch. A client gave it to me. It’s actually quite funny.”

“Oh. Well, this one was a skeleton playing the piano. Jonah thought it was hilarious. He showed it to everyone. Nobody would admit to leaving it. Then he started playing. Everyone was enjoying it. He was coming to the end of the song, and then that man from the week before stood up. And then…”

“…where is that man now, Mrs. Cheerilee?”

“In a mental hospital. I’ve visited him a few times. He cries a lot and tells me he’s sorry, but he says, ‘You must understand why. You of all people must understand why I did it.’ I don’t know why he says that. …but the thing I remember about that day now that I never remembered before is that little Day of the Dead statue. The skeleton was wearing a top hat, you see.”

“Ah. So the stencil drawing reminded you of it.”

“No, that wasn’t it. I mean, I suppose it did, but…doctor, I’ve never told anyone this before, but the day that Jonah was murdered, everyone assumed I was hysterical because of what happened, and I was, but it started before that. It started when I saw that little statuette on the church organ.

“Something about that figure, the skeleton and the hat, it terrified me. It scared me so bad that I wanted to stand up and shout to Jonah to run away from it, but I was too frightened to even move. And by the time I could, the man with the gun had already…he’d…”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Cheerilee. …but you’re sure that your fear response started before the shooting? Not after?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Hmm. So the skeleton and the hat: That image upsets you. Do you know why?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Can you think of the first time you ever saw it?”

“Well… when I was a child I used to have a nightmare. There was a little filly in a room—”

“Was it you?”

“It might have been, but it was hard to tell. Whoever she was, she was in a dark room, and she was crying, and all around her there were these…I guess puppets, or dolls? And they were screaming.”

“The puppets were screaming?”

“Yes, all of them, screaming and screaming, and the little girl was crying.”

“Did you have this nightmare a lot?”

“All the time, when I was five.”

“What does this have to do with the skeleton in the top hat?”

“That was one of the puppets. That’s the first time I can remember seeing that image. Well, not seeing exactly, but that’s my earliest memory.”

“I see. What did your parents do when you told them about this dream?”

“They took the TV away.”

“Why?”

“They said that I had the dream because of something I saw on TV.”

“Do you remember that?”

“No. And I didn’t at the time either. But they insisted. It was…actually very strange, now that I think about it. It seemed to scare them, somehow. Of course, it’s hard to remember. I was so young, you know?”

“Of course. Do you still have this dream?”

“No. That is…not until very recently.”

“But you’ve had it again?”

“Yes, just after the stencil drawing, and the anxiety attack. That same night, actually. But only that once. And that was the first time in, oh, forty years, I guess. It’s normal, right, to have that dream again, after seeing something that reminded me of it?”

“We don’t really deal in words like normal or abnormal here, Mrs. Cheerilee. I would say that it is noteworthy that you had the same dream after so long. But I don’t think it’s something you have to worry about. Can I ask, was anything different about the dream this time?”

“…yes.”

“And what was that?”

“One of the puppets. It looked like…it looked like Jonah…”

“It’s alright to cry, Mrs. Cheerilee. Here, dry your eyes. I can imagine it was very upsetting, but it’s important to remember that dreams are your mind’s way of trying to tell us something. Can you remember any other strange dreams about your oldest son?”

“For a while right after he died I would have one where I was standing on the shore, watching him sail away on a big ship.”

“That’s a very common image.”

“No, not like this; there was something wrong with that ship. Something terrible. And the ponies on it with him…they weren’t ponies. Not normal ponies. I had the feeling they were, you know, kidnapping him. Carrying him away, like they were—”

“Pirates?”

“Yes, that’s it. And I heard music too: strange, jumbled circus music. It sounded a little like the song that Jonah played in church. And you know, come to think of it, he told me that the song came to him in a dream first. It might even have been a dream about a ship. I didn’t pay much attention. I remember I even faked having to get something done so I could leave the room and stop listening to him talk about it. Isn’t that terrible? But at the time, hearing about his dreams upset me very much.”

“Let’s move on: Have there been any other incidents lately that have upset you? Anything unusual that’s disrupted your regular routine?”

“I’m not sure what’s important.”

“Anything might be important. We won’t know for sure unless we talk about it.”

“Well, a few weeks ago—this was before the panic attack—I was at a toy store, trying to find something for Dylan. He was turning five that week. And I found this…thing. It was a doll, you know, but not a normal one. It was like a little pirate, but its head was one from a porcelain baby doll, the old kind? It looked like something a serial killer would make in their basement.”

“And that bothered you?”

“Well it was horribly ugly. I asked the owner and she said she’d found it when she was cleaning out the storeroom. She had no idea where it came from. She wasn’t sure whether she should sell it or not. I told her to throw it away. It scared me. I guess it sounds silly now. Why would something like that get to me so much?”

“To grind your skin.”

“…what?!”

“I said, things get under your skin.”

“I thought you said…never mind.

“There was something else too: As I was cleaning my son’s room the next day I thought I saw that same doll in there.”

“Thought you did?”

“As I was cleaning under his bed something caught my eye: It was that red bandana. And I saw that doll’s little face staring at me, with those cracked, painted eyes, and I swear I just about screamed. But when I looked under the bed again it wasn’t there. And I told myself I just imagined it, but…are all these things really important?”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Cheerilee. I’d say we’re making great progress. With these sorts of things, you have. To go. Inside.”

“…what did you say?”

“You have to go inside. Of your mindset, you know, inside of your issues.”

“But why did you say it that way the first time?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Doctor, I—”

“Let’s move on. It seems that your anxiety is being triggered by some very specific imagery. Tell me when else it’s come up.”

“I…”

“Tell me, Mrs. Cheerilee. Please.”

“…my neighbor, she had Halloween decorations up on her house for weeks. And there was one that was a kind of skeleton that hung in her window, the sort of thing you’d buy at a drugstore this time of year. It startled me when I looked out my window and saw it. It was like it was looking right into my house. It had big glass eyes that were too large for its skull…that bothered me.

“I had such a strange feeling when I saw it. The first time I thought to myself, ‘He’s found me.’ It just popped into my head, and a second later I couldn’t have told you what it means. But that’s not what scared me.”

“What did?”

“My neighbor took all the other decorations off her house after Halloween, but she kept that one. Every morning I’d see that thing staring into my window. And finally one day I mentioned to her, very casually, you know, that it was almost Thanksgiving and she really ought to take that last Halloween decoration down. And she said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? It’s been gone for weeks.’”

“Was it there when you looked out the window again?’

“No.”

“Do you think it was ever really there to begin with?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“What else has been on your mind?”

“Dylan. He’s a very bright foal, like his brother. And they look a like. But he’s not a musician; instead he draws.”

“Has he been making strange pictures?”

“How did you know?”

“A lucky guess. Do go on, Mrs. Cheerilee.”

“I feel sick. I feel like…the room is moving?”

“It’s your imagination. Tell me about Dylan’s pictures.”

“They’re of…a sailing ship. But not a normal one. It has a, you know, a figurehead at the front of it that’s too big. And it talks.”

“The figurehead talks?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know that, if it’s just a picture?”

“I just know. And he’s been drawing it for weeks and weeks, over and over. And sometimes he draws other things too…strange things…terrible things…”

“But things you recognize.”

“…yes.”

“Where have you seen these things before, Mrs. Cheerilee?”

“In my dreams. And…on the television. When I was five years old. The show came on everyday. And I was scared of it, but I watched it anyway. And when I tried to get my parents to watch it with me they said…they said…”

“What did they say?”

“…that there was no show. And I didn’t understand what they meant. And that’s when the nightmare began. And I remember now, that’s where I first heard that song, the strange one that Jonah played. That’s why I was upset when I heard it, because it reminded me of that show. And I though maybe that’s why the man at the church was upset by it, too. I guess as I grew up I kind of forgot about the whole thing, but…”

“But you didn’t forget, did you? You never forget the things that are really important in childhood.”

“I guess you don’t.”

“And we didn’t forget about you either.”

“What?”

“I said, they didn’t forget—”

“No you didn’t. You said ‘we.’ ‘We didn’t forget about you?’”

“…well, it’s true. We didn’t forget. We’ve been waiting for you, . All this time.”

“Dr. Stable, why are you laughing like that? Dr. Stable?”

“I’m not a doctor. And you see this isn’t a doctor’s office at all, is it? It’s the cabin of a ship, that’s why it’s moving, that’s why you started to feel seasick.”

“What’s going on?!”

“You’re off on an adventure on the high seas, Faraday, just like the ones on television when you were a little girl. The ones we made just for you.”

“Stop talking like that. And stop calling me that too, my name isn’t Faraday.”

“But it could be! You’d make as good of a Faraday as anyone. And think how much better life would be if you were? Faraday never had a murdered son. Faraday never had to worry that she was losing her mind. Faraday only had adventures all the time.”

“But they were so awful, so frightening…”

“Well, being a child is always a little frightening, isn’t it? But you won’t be alone here; all of your old friends are onboard. And we have some news ones too. Even Jonah is here…”

“Jonah…?”

“Oh yes. He’s been just the best little crew member for us. And he’s been waiting for you. Just think about how wonderful it will be to see him again, and to see everyone else too. All one big happy crew together.”

“But what about Dylan?”

“Your other boy? Oh, don’t worry about him. We’ll get around to him, in due time. But do you hear that, Faraday?”

“I…I hear a voice…”

“And what is it telling you?”

“I don’t want to listen to it! I don’t want to be here, I want to go home!”

“This is home, Faraday. This is the home we made for you, the home that’s been waiting for you, the home that you’ll be in forever and ever. The voice that you hear, why, that’s the voice of your new home. And what is it saying?”

“I…”

“What’s it saying, Faraday?”

“It’s saying that…

“I have. To go. Inside.”

The Holder of Vanity

In any city in Equestria go to any beat down hotel or roadside rest house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask for the room number of someone who calls herself "The Holder of Vanity." The pony behind the desk will whistle and hand you a card with a room number on one side and a key taped to the other.

When you start to go up the stairs, you should hear the moans and thrashing of passion surround you, but you must not pay attention to them, lest you suffer something that would horrify even the souls in the deepest pits of Tartarus. If the moaning ever stops, knock on the nearest wall and whisper, "Everyone is doing it; don't stop on my account." If the moaning does not resume, pray that you suffer a quick death, though that is quite unlikely.

When you finally reach the room that you are searching for, knock four times and say, "I have come for you." A male voice will answer you. Reply in a loud voice "The mare is what I desire!" If the stallion does not respond, open the door to the right, throw the key in, and quickly head back to the front desk. If he tells you to come in, open the door with the key.

Instead of finding a stallion, you will find a mare chained to a crucifix, whose body is of a heavenly, enchanting beauty, but whose face is the most hideous that any mortal has ever seen. She will ask you if you have come to free her. Look at her straight in the face and do not answer her, or she will make you her slave for all eternity.

The thing you can safely do is ask her "What makes them vain?" The mare will laugh a very shrill laugh that will shake the very foundations of your mind. If you keep your sanity after that, the mare will slowly tell the you about the things that keep their beauty for themselves, and how their vanity will end up destroying the beauty they hold so dear.

When she finishes speaking, pick up the rose on the bed without breaking your gaze away from the mare. As soon as you grab the rose, quickly close your eyes as the room fills with an incomprehensible force. When you open your eyes, the rose will be dead and wilted, its thorns still embedded in your palm.

Its stem is Object 214 of 538. The beauty of the world will now crumble and show its true nature.

The Art of Emory

Ghost stories? Nah, we don’t have anything like that around here. We DO have the story of Emory, but that’s about as close as you’ll get.

…You really want to know?… Well, I’m not supposed to tell you, but all right, just no interrupting. I don’t have the patience for it.

How to describe Emory… well, I guess you could say he was the kind of pony you could never take notice of. This isn’t to say he was a bad kid, in any sense- many ponies in this town thought he was the most reliable pony for an odd job in the state- but he never really excelled in anything. He was the living proof behind the statement, “jack of all trades, ace of none.” Most of this was due to his own lack of will. He dabbled in damn near everything this town could offer him, farming, store management, what have you, but he never stuck with anything. His friends and workers went after him about it a number of times, but everybody got the same unsatisfying response: “It just wasn’t enough.” Needless to say, any friends he kept were either very patient or never spoke of the matter altogether.

It was probably inevitable, then, that Emory would leave to go abroad. I don’t remember where he went, but I think Gertrude down the street knew before she passed on- you’ll have to scout somepony else if you ever get curious. In any case, nopony even tried to stop him. Everypony thought that a little travel would stamp the ambition out of him, or else feed it until it was no longer an issue. Hay, we even gave him a sending-off party, which I thought was pretty nice of everybody.

So anyway, he was gone for… six, seven years? Can’t remember. You’ll have to check with somepony else about that, too. Anyways, he came back, eventually, and he had changed, obviously enough. He was amiable, energetic, all smiles all the time, and we all quickly learned why. He showed us a souvenir he’d brought back- a solid black stick, the length of a pencil but the texture of chalk. We all wondered why on Equestria such a simple thing would prompt such a spring in his step, until he gave his demonstration. He took a piece of paper, and with this stick- Celestia, there’s got to be a better word for it- with this stick, he… he drew a crude circle.

It dropped, and rested on the border of the paper, like a stone. It didn’t leave the paper, but it acted out on it, sort of like an old movie projector on a screen.

Son, I know how crazy that sounds, and if you feel like playing skeptic, then you can leave an old stallion to his craziness, but I know what I saw, even if everypony’s been hushing it up, and that stone he drew dropped. Emory even passed around the paper, and as it was being passed, it rolled around as the paper got tilted. None of us had any words for it- Hay, what was there to say?- but he continued drawing demonstration after demonstration for us, stick figures in various pageants and plays doing everything from fighting each other to making perfect “pony” pyramids, and we all thought it was incredible. That was all the go-ahead he needed- he announced that he planned to put on shows to pay for rent and food, where he would draw anything the crowd members wanted. THAT we talked to some length about, and he eventually convinced us that it would be safe, his drawings ethical, the practice lucrative and unique, and the attention would not go anywhere outside of the town’s borders.

Poor Emory. If I’d not been so swept up in the moment, I might’ve read the signs right then and there, and saved the sorry son of a bitch by snapping the terrible thing in half. But I was younger, we all were, and we saw no problem with encouraging him with what we all saw as an incredible experience to be shared with everypony else. Now, he didn’t have any big radio or television connections, mind you, and the internet wouldn’t come around for another decade, so he did what all ponies on a shoestring budget do- he advertised his show with fliers. Fliers might not mean anything to you city-folk, but in a small town, they gain a fair glance-over from time to time, and what’s more, Emory’s managed to stick out by having little figures jump up and down and whatnot to get ponies attention. His first show must’ve gotten nearly sixty or so people, probably a lot more than that.

And his shows were fantastic. Somepony would shout out a scene from a play or a comedy sketch, and Emor’s hand would fly over a white wall like a bird. He’d been holding back when he made that stone, that’s for damn sure. His illustrations were all spot-on, and he could make an incredible pony figure in minutes. Come to think of it, I don’t remember any of his scenes lasting more than ten minutes to make. They were all really well-done scenes, too- not only could you see a knight charge a castle, Emor would draw the castle’s interior as well, like a wedding cake split down the middle, so you could see the knight scale the walls, fight his way through levels to the dungeon, fight back out with a princess, and make a leaping jump off castle parapets onto his getaway horse all in complete silence. Not realistic, no, but that was part of the appeal- none of us went in there expecting something real. When a scene or a sketch was finished, either the characters would leave off a wall or he’d cover the wall with white paint. This was good, in a way- it gave these shows a time limit, so that when he’d finished with all of the four walls in the room, everyone knew the show was over until the paint dried.

Emor, meanwhile, was changing in a bad way. I’d mentioned that upon his return, he’d been extremely energetic. Well, that energy, that vitality or fervor or whatever you want to call it, it never left him. Not for an instant. Far from it, it seemed to grow in him, and he enjoyed it all too much. His eyes grew wider, he slept gradually less over time, his statements and opinions more radical and frenzied, and though he never was a pushover, he was starting to make people nervous in his company.

A month or two passed, and Emor’s audience grew like a wildfire. Nearly everypony in the town paid to see Emor’s art in action, and he had to rent out larger and larger places for them to sit. He now didn’t stop after one scene was done- he moved directly on to the next, put on the next blank space on the wall, sometimes to the intriguing effect of causing scenes to mingle, which the crowd loved. The subject matter got more wild and immoral, the monsters got more bizarre and creative, the fighters using more impossible weaponry, all for the sake of the crowd’s interests. Emor got steadily more indulgent, which we figured was from the money, and he became a drinker and became quite appealing to the mares in town (neither of which got rid of that vitality, by the way.) Some of those mare claimed that they’d woken up in the middle of the night to see him scribbling with that stick on a drawing pad, a gigantic grin on his face, and while most of them said that they’d assumed he was drawing them in the nude, there’s rumors that one or two of them got glances at that notepad. Those anonymous few supposedly said that those drawings absolutely weren’t nude pictures, but neither of them, whoever they are, will say what he was drawing. Don’t bother looking for the notepads or fliers, though, they’re all gone now. I’m getting off-track; point is, he was hitting the bottle, and that’s important, because it was that drinking that would eventually ruin everything.

On the night of one of his performances, as he walked in front of his cheering crowd, it was immediately apparent to everypony that he was completely drunk. I was in the front row, and I could smell the hard cider on him from ten feet away. The show started, he went through a bunch of sketches and scenarios the crowd recommended, when at the end somepony asked that he draw himself. Everyone cheered the idea, I guessed they’d been wondering what his creations thought of him, and he eventually obliged.

No sooner had Emor finished connecting the final two lines on his coat, than every single character, across the vast, expansive wall, all stopped and looked directly at that illustration. Lovers stopped kissing, clowns stopped laughing, robots stopped fighting pirates, everything stopped and looked at the Emory-illustration. The crowd died almost instantly- I remember Emor’s face at that moment, pale white, full of terrible comprehension at his mistake, and looking desperately for the cans of white paint he’d forgotten to put out before the show. Everypony else? They were looking at the fake Emory.

That Emory reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a black stick of his own, and as we all watched, drew a door. He pushed on his side and the door swung open, allowing him to walk through onto the floor of the auditorium.

The rest was an absolute hellish pandemonium. Ponies screamed and ran for the exits as Emor’s characters, both those currently on the wall and those which had previously left before being covered up, ran out of their own exit, throwing pies, shooting lasers, blowing fire and poison and the impossible. I was near enough the exit to escape, and gave only one backwards glance. The scene will haunt me forever.

Emory was being dragged by his creations, kicking and screaming, through the door his copy had made.

The auditorium burned down, obviously enough, but I have no idea how many characters escaped, what happened to the fake Emory, or how many ponies died. The fire brought the fire department from the nearest cities up to over a hundred miles away- they in turn brought the police force, which brought the government, which hushed up everything. They took the fliers and any art Emor had made, and swore everyone to secrecy or else life detainment. The fire was blamed on a cigarette in the garbage during a town gathering, and we all eventually went on with our lives. Emory was made to never have existed.

In retrospect, I realize everything. Emory hadn’t been creating illustrations. Illustrations don’t move, much less act or attack-they’re just images ponies see, shadows made to look like real things. Emory had been making life- actual thinking things in some alternate dimension, using a power that was never meant to fall to mortal hands. He got drunk on his power. His punishment was probably well-deserved.

Incidentally, the government screwed up on two different accounts. They did a damn good job silencing everyone, but proof remains. The ruins are still there, you know. The auditorium’s ruins. I hear they’re going to start reconstruction soon, which will wipe out any remaining evidence somepony can definitely see, but I went back there once, several years after the fire- just once. Amidst the rubble, covered in ash, I saw something squirming. I looked closer. It was Emory’s hand on the wall. Exactly like it had been three years ago, (sweaty but calloused, I remember,) but it was constantly flailing, as if the body it was supposed to be attached to was still writhing in flames.

That was mistake number one. Number two was those creations.

Like I said, I don’t know how many escaped, nor how many the government agents found and caught, but I will say only this- Those tall grass meadows on the outskirts of town? Don’t go into them. Ever. You were asking about those white figures you’ve seen at night, right?

This town doesn’t have ghost stories.

The Sandman

"Go to bed and wait for the Sandman."

Even as it came out of Thunderlane's mouth it seemed to him a strange thing to say, and he was not sure why he had, but for some reason it worked: Rumble went to bed.

The next morning, though, Rumble asked: "What does the Sandman look like?"

Thunderlane was making breakfast. Rumble sat at the table, his hooves shaking. "Nothing, really," Thunderlane said. "It's just an expression."

"What does it mean?"

"Just something people say." He put a plate of eggs in front of  and kissed him on the top of his head. He thought that would be the end of it.

Until he saw the Sandman for himself.

He was getting ready for bed and stopped by Rumble's room to check on him while he slept, as he often did. It was such a routine precaution that when he saw a pale, naked stallion sitting on the edge of Rumble's bed, rocking back and forth, it took a moment for him to process what he was seeing.

He reacted the way any father/brother would, of course: He ran into the room screaming, and for a moment he thought about attacking the intruder, but then the stallion on the bed turned, and that's when Thunderlane saw that it wasn't really a stallion: It was a pale, slithery thing, hairless and warped, its joints turned the wrong way and its body out of shape with itself. When it moved it was like an insane marionette dancing on a stage.

Thunderlane froze. The skittering thing watched him. Only when he remembered that Rumble was still there in bed, staring at the broken-shaped thing sitting a hoof away, did he regain the courage to move. He grabbed Rumble and ran. In the hall he turned to see if the thing would follow them, but it didn't. For a moment it watched and then, moving like a stop-motion nightmare, it crawled to the window and jumped out, leaving only the billowing curtains to mark its passing.

Thunderlane had trouble talking to the police. He reported a break-in, but when asked to describe the intruder he didn't know what to say. How could he make the ordinary stallion in the blue uniform sitting at his kitchen table while two of his colleagues searched the house understand a thing like he'd seen? He couldn't even understand it himself.

To make it worse, Rumble's memory did not correspond to Thunderlane's: He described an ordinary looking burglar. "A stallion in a mask," he said. Thunderlane's thought about it: Had it been a mask? No, it would had to have been a full costume, and an elaborate one, something like they would use for a movie. And that would not explain the way it moved...

But in the end he simply echoed his son's testimony: "A stallion in a mask," he said. "A burglar." The lie unsettled him almost as much as what had happened.

The doctors said Rumble wasn't hurt and showed no signs of molestation. Thunderlane was relieved. They stayed at a motel for a couple nights until they felt ready to come home, and then Thunderlane had a new security system installed, along with bars on the windows. He didn't like the sight of them in Rumble's room, but it seemed like the only thing to do.

Thunder was frightened that first night back in the house, but Rumble, strangely, was not. When asked if he felt okay sleeping alone, he just said yes. In the end it was Thunderlane who found himself wishing he were not sleeping alone. He was up all night listening for the sound of anything moving in the house. Although he had convinced himself that his memory was faulty and that it had been a normal (albeit probably deeply disturbed) stallion in his brother's room, when he closed his eyes even for a moment he pictured bloodless skin and a twisted, inpony face. He found himself wondering, why my house? Why my brother? He knew, of course, that there didn't have to be a reason. But still, he wondered.

Two weeks later Rumble stopped talking. Thunderlane didn't notice at first; kids went through quiet phases sometimes. But eventually he tried to get Rumble to talk, and he wouldn't. Eventually, it became clear that he couldn't.

Back to the doctor they went. Nothing wrong with him that we can see, was the diagnosis. Was it the trauma, Rumble asked? Could be, they said. Sometimes these things come on late. Children can be a mystery even to those who know them best. They recommended a child psychologist, whom Thunderlane couldn't afford. He could not, for that matter, even afford the bill they were giving him now.

Nothing seemed to help. Rumble would write out answers to questions sometimes, but never more than a yes or no. When Thunderlane would ask him what was wrong, or if he'd seen or heard anything that frightened him, Rumble would only stare. He seemed furtive and bemused. Thunderlane found himself missing the sound of his son's voice. Sometimes he wanted to hear it so bad that he ached. But it seemed that Rumble would not talk again until he was ready.

Thunderlane had other things to worry about, too. He was convinced, beyond reason, that the intruder was not really gone. Though the alarm never went off and the locks and bars remained undisturbed, he was sure that he heard movement in the night. Not normal movement: It was a sound like a huge snake slithering through the house. When he heard it, he imagined horrible things. Nothing was ever there when he went to investigate, though he often thought he glimpsed something just out the corner of his eye, a pale, dehydrated hoof or a misshapen shadow that would slink away as soon as he turned.

He rarely slept, and when he did he had haunted dreams.

Soon he realized he had not left the house in weeks except to go to the bank and buy groceries. He felt hemmed in. With Rumble acting mute he hadn't had an actual conversation with anyone in weeks, so he wrote to his mother. The letters took longer to deliver, since something happened with his "Instant Letter Delivery" Module.  But when he did get a letter, it was fairly long.  She asked him if he was okay, and if he would come to visit her sometime in the future, and if he would ask the gentlemen in the nice uniforms would stop taking her everywhere she went.  "I guess I'm okay, Ma," he wrote.  He stopped writing to wipe the sweat from his brow and then make sure he could hear Rumble playing in the next room. "But things have been a little rough. We had a break-in."  

The letter came by half an hour later.

"Oh how awful! Did they take anything?"

"Nah. Just ran off. It was weird though. I haven't really felt comfortable since then."

"Are you still working with the weather ponies."

"No Ma, I left last year, you know that."

"Oh. Well, have you been getting out? What about that nice mare you were seeing last year, the one who played the piano?"

Thunderlane scowled.  He was about to write back, when something made him pause.  A sound, like... slithering!

Thunderlane charged outside of his room and practically tore the place up looking for whatever that thing was.  He found nothing.  

He began giving Rumble a light physical exam every week. His CNA training was a little rusty, but you never really forget. It was an absurd thing to do, of course; even if there was a physical cause for Rumble's behavior, it would be nothing he could discover this way. And he was aware on some level that it was compulsive behavior. Nevertheless, it made him feel better.

One morning Rumble's set the diaphragm of the stethoscope against Rumble's chest, but he could not locate a heartbeat. He moved his hand in search of the right spot, to no avail. Then, to test it, he listened to his own heartbeat; it came through steady and clear. But when he checked Rumble again he didn't hear anything. A thought came unbidden to him of the Tin Man in "The Wizards of Oz", whose chest was empty as a kettle.

A sick feeling roiled his stomach. He threw the stethoscope down and grabbed Rumble by the shoulders, looking into his face. Rumble stared back with bright eyes. He even smiled a little, with the corners of his mouth. Thunderlane felt the tingle of tears. He swept his brother up and hugged him, and Rumble hugged back. Then Thunder sent him to play. The stethoscope, he decided, was broken. He threw it in the trash.

Things got worse. Thunderlane's terrors were no longer relegated to the long hours of the night. Now it seemed that some creeping, some skittering and scuttling, some unknowable noise in some dark corner or another, filled every second of his day. The thought of how big the house really was started to weigh on him: There were so many rooms he wasn't in at any given time, so many places someone—or something—else could be. He imagined strange figures occupying the rest of his home when he wasn't around, melting into the walls or merging with the shadows whenever he turned on a light or opened a door. How would he know if they were there? How would he ever know?

Soon he didn't even have to be outside of a room to imagine it. When he walked up the stairs he pictured pale figures lurking beneath them. When he went down the hall he pictured a crawling thing slithering behind the walls, shadowing his every step. If he sat too long in the same chair he imagined that it was right behind him. And he was never comforted when he turned around and found nothing there, as he could only guess that meant it had moved, swiftly and silently, behind him once again. Wherever he was not looking right now, that was where he imagined it to be.

He was losing his mind, he knew. The only thing that helped him cling to sanity was that Rumble seemed undisturbed. Other than his muteness, his behavior was perfectly normal. And whenever he seemed to sense that his father was troubled he would hug him, or squeeze his hand, or even smile. Sometimes, when he left the room, Thunderlane cried.

One night he found himself creeping around the house with no lights on at two o'clock in the morning. If the intruding thing had taken to violating his daytime activities then he would get revenge by confronting it on its own terms: the night. And really, night was no more frightening to him now than day. They were almost interchangeable.

He padded barehoof down the halls, up the stairs, in and out of disused rooms. Sometimes he stopped to listen, hoping to locate it by sound; it was a stealthy, creeping thing, he knew, but it was awkward at times, and it couldn't always keep its strangely shaped limbs from making their distinct, irregular footsteps. The smallest noise would give it away...

There was one room he suspected it spent most of its time in: the spare bedroom. Not a bedroom at all, really, more like a closet just large enough to accommodate a bed if one were so inclined. It was unpainted and uncarpeted and drafty; he'd always meant to fix it up. He didn't come in here very often because he disliked the bare, unused look of it. It made him think of a partially dissected corpse.

He came in now, though. If the thing made its nest any one place in the house, this would be it. Of course, there was nothing there now...but that didn't mean there was nothing there.

He cursed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. What was he missing? How did it hide from him? What was its secret? He peered into the room's empty corners one by one, getting his face a few inches from the plaster and floorboards so that he could be certain—certain!—that there was no space for it to conceal itself.

The light bulb flickered. He froze. My Celestia, he thought, it's on the ceiling! He pictured it crawling above him like a huge, pale lizard. That’s how it gets around, he thought, that's how it escapes anytime I should have it cornered, it just scuttles up the wall and hides right over my head! He imagined it dangling down behind him like a spider. If I turn around, he thought, it will be there, hanging with its face right next to mine. He held his breath. He did not want to turn around, but he had no choice; it was between him and the door.

With a quiet sob, he turned around.

Of course, he was alone. There was no stallion on the ceiling; he checked twice. Maybe it crawled out and was waiting for him in the hall...but when he checked there the coast was once again clear. It should have been a relief, but it was not. After all, it had to be in here somewhere. If the ceiling was not its trick that just meant it was something else, something even more strange, even more clever...

He went to Rumble's room. He had not stopped checking on him at night, like he always had. This time, though, rather than open the door he listened at it first, pressing his ear against the grain of the cheap wood and holding his breath, terrified that he would hear a skittering sound on the other side of the barrier. What he heard instead shocked him more:

Rumble was talking to some pony.

Thunderlane recoiled for a second and then, when he'd caught his breath, he all but kicked the door in. Rumble was already awake, indeed, sitting up in bed, but he was not saying anything now. The light flashed on and Thunderlane stalked halfway into the room before stopping, suddenly torn: What did he want more, to confirm that his brother could speak again or to find whomever he was speaking to?

The creak of a door hinge settled the matter for him. He ran to the closet and threw it open: There was nothing inside, or at least, nothing that shouldn't be there. He swept aside clothes on their hangers, but nothing was hiding between them. Then he dragged a box out and emptied it into the floor: Nothing. He combed along the bare walls and floor and, yes, the ceiling, pushing aside every last bit of rubbish and stray knick-knack so that he could be sure, absolutely sure, that nothing was hiding.

All the while Rumble watched him.

After a few minutes Thunderlane was panting and covered in sweat and the closet was bare, and there were neither intruders nor answers inside. It struck him as funny, somehow, and he started to laugh, very quietly. He kicked his brother's stuff out of the way as he went to sit down on the bed, dazed. He became aware, all at once, of several things, first being that he had not slept in days and was nowhere near his right mind. The second was how close he'd come to really losing it, for good.

Tomorrow, he decided, they would both sleep until the afternoon, and when they did wake up he and Rumble would get out of this creaky old house. No more staying cooped up like prisoners, and no more checkups, and no more dreams about monsters. He would even take the bars off the windows. It was time to get back to living like real ponies again. It was time to—

Thunderlane saw it when he brushed a hand through Rumble's hair. He pulled Rumble (a little too roughly) closer. His brother acquiesced to the examination without fidgeting or complaint as Thunderlane pawed the side of his head, hoping that what he was seeing would somehow stop being apparent. He stared and stared until he ached from not blinking, but there was no denying what was right in front of his eyes:

Rumble was missing an ear.

No, he realized with mounting nausea: both ears. There was no injury, no incision, no mark where they should have been, simply smooth, blank flesh. As blank as Rumble's quiet, unperturbed demeanor.

Thunderlane swept him up, cradled him in his wings and ran into the hall. He was not sure where he was going or what he meant to do when he got there, he just knew that there was now nothing more important than getting his brother out of that house. But their path was cut off: A naked stallion sat in the hallway with his back to them. No, not a stallion: Thunderlane recognized its stretched limbs. The pale thing squatted on its haunches, rocking back and forth like it was palsied. It almost seemed to be in pain. Thunderlane hugged his brother closer and backed away. Then he heard Rumble's voice: "Big brother."

Thunderlane turned to Rumble, and he heard the voice again:

"Big brother."

But Rumble's lips hadn't moved.

Thunderlane looked back at the hunched figure. Its head jerked when it talked, like a tic:

"hello. big brother."

Thunderlane's mouth went dry. It took several tries before he could speak. "Don't call me that."

"it is. this voice's name. for you."

"Go away. Leave me, and my brother alone!"

"but i am. your brother."

The longer it talked the more the voice became distorted and blurred. An icy feeling nestled in Thunderlane's stomach. "Who are you?"

"somepony. who came to visit."

"Why here?"

"you. invited me."

Thunderlane's heart thudded against the inside of his chest. "Why?"

"i had. something you wanted."

Thunderlane licked his dry lips. "You're lying. You don't have anything I want. I want you to leave. Leave, and never come back."

"who. is. daniel's. mother?"

James blinked. "What?"

"who. is. rumble's. mother and. father?"

"What the hay kind of question is that?"

"how. old. is. Rumble?"

Thunderlane blinked again. The thing's voice caused a pinching pain in the center of his forehead. "Stop asking me these things."

"when. is. rumble's. birthday?"

"...I don't know."

"what. is. his. middle. name?"

"Shut up."

"what. was. his. first word?"

"I said shut up!" Thunderlane wanted to tear the thing apart with his bare hooves. Only the heaviness of Rumble cradled him in his arms kept him where he was.

"you were. alone. you wanted. a brother. so i. made one. for you."

Thunderlane began to shake. "That doesn't make sense. Made out of what?"

"out of. myself."

Thunderlane's stomach turned over.

"but now. i need those parts. back."

Rumble picked at Thunderlane's shoulder to get his attention. Something was strange about Rumble's face. "Rumble? Open your eyes."

Rumble scrunched his eyes shut tighter.

"Open your eyes. Rumble? Rumble. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!"

Rumble shook his head, trying to refuse, but he couldn't hold it forever. Eventually his eyelids flicked up and Thunderlane saw the truth.

Rumble's eyes were gone.

Thunderlane almost dropped him. For a second he wanted to throw his brother down so that he could stop looking into those empty holes in his face. Rumble opened his mouth, as if to speak, but of course, he had no voice.

"he is coming back. to be part of me. again."

"No. No, no, no, give him back, give him back!"

"i. cannot. it has been. too long. i warned you. this. would happen."

"You're lying! You're lying, you're a bucking liar, give me my brother back, give him back!"

"i. do not lie. i. warned you. he could not exist forever. but you. do not remember. you. can only remember. what i want you to. you forget. all the times. we have talked."

Rumble felt like a doll, or an empty bag. His hair was falling out, disappearing before it touched the ground. His hooves vanished into thin air. Thunderlane cradled the air. Tears streamed down his face. Soon he held nothing.

He looked around the house; toys disappeared, photos vanished from their frames. Thunderlane turned toward Rumble's room and confronted a wall where the door should be. He groped the blank surface. He hit his head against the wall. The pain didn't feel real. "Why did you do this?"

"it was. what you wanted. and i learned. so much."

"This is impossible. Ponies will ask, ponies will wonder: the police, the hospitals, the ponies in the neighborhood!"

"they. have already. forgotten him. they only. remembered. what i wanted them to. like you."

Thunderlane pressed his hands to his aching skull. "Will I at least remember him after this?"

"you. can try. but your mind. will fail you. now that everything. he was. is part of me. again."

Thunderlane sat on the floor, looking at the blank wall. Out the corner of his eye he saw the thing creep toward him and even felt its wet hoof on his shoulder, but he did not look at it.

"If I won't remember any of this," he said, "then why tell me?"

"because. a father. should know."

And then Thunderlane was alone.

***

Grace worried about Thunderlane sometimes.

When they met a year ago, he said that he'd never been married and he'd never had kids, that all he did was take care of a little brother, but there was a certain pained expression he assumed when he said the last part. Grace knew that look: She'd met brothers who lost siblings.  

And there were other things about him that worried her too. Sometimes she would find him staring at a particular spot on the wall, brow furrowed in concentration. He did not seem to realize he was doing it. And of course there was the insomnia, and the sleepwalking to consider too. Yes, there was lots to worry about. But she loved him all the same.

Thunderlane still said he'd never had foals, and neither had she. She'd long wanted one, but it was impossible, and she worried that Thunderlane wouldn't stay with a mare who couldn't be a mother (though he constantly assured her that it was not so). There were times—and more and more often of late they were the nights when Thunderlane took to sleepwalking, and even Grace imagined that she heard strange, scuttling noises in the house and saw impossible shapes in dark corners—when she thought she would do anything, absolutely anything, if it meant having a little daughter for she and Thunderlane to raise.

And at those moments, she became truly afraid. But she never knew why.

The Holder of Nothing

In any city in Equestria, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit somepony who calls herself "The Holder of Nothing." Should a look of sheer, primal disgust mar the worker's expression, you will be taken to a separate building, one that appears to be an old, wooden outhouse. Inside will be a seemingly endless corridor far, far longer than the length of the outhouse.

The corridor will be completely silent. Attempting to make any sound at the wrong time is a grievous, lamentable, terrible mistake. You will notice the lights in the corridor getting brighter and brighter as you make your way down towards the end, soon you will be blinded by their brilliance. If at any point the lights go out, quickly shout out, "No! Stop! What you are doing is wrong!" while backing away. If the lights do not come back on, bolt for the door you came in through. It should still be open; hopefully you aren't far enough down the hallway for it to close on you. If it does close, an eternity in tartarus would be far preferable to what you will suffer.

If the lights come back on, continue walking down the corridor. At the end of the hall will lie a single cell; the worker will open the door for you while glaring at you in disgust. Inside the cell will be a mad pastiche of colors, arranged in several harlequin-like formations. You must not be distracted by them, for at the center of a room is a bare young mare, slathered in blood and bound by strips of pony sinew. If you take your eyes off her even for a moment, she will completely and totally destroy you. She will only respond to one question: "What were they when they were one?"

She will then stare into your eyes and speak the answer in incredible detail. It will be unlike anything you have ever heard; you will be on the verge of both ecstasy and agony at her mere words. It is not uncommon for a Seeker to lose themselves in the euphoria. The worst thing you can do, however, is look upon the tattoo on her chest. Your mind will tempt you to gaze upon it, but you must resist. If you do not, and foolishly set eyes upon it, you will fall victim to her horrifying powers. She will flay you alive and add your mutilated flesh to her bindings, and you will remain trapped with her, fully conscious, for the rest of time.

That tattoo is Object 4 of 538. They desire to be one again, but they mustn't.

The Splendor Mane

If there is one day in my life that has defined me it has to be back when I was a younger lad. I must give a bit of background though. I started seeing things moving out of the corner of my eye. Now seeing something slightly move out of my line of sight didn’t really bother me that much. Even the noises while I was trying to sleep didn’t throw me off that much. My upstairs neighbors are some of the weirdest people I have ever meet. One edited his apartment to be able to practice Javelin and another one was a Peruvian flute player. I’m getting a bit off track now.

So after three days of these things, moving out of the corner of my eye. I start seeing things completely move out of my vision of sight. One time during work I was standing in my cubicle talking to Fred in the next cubicle over. I looked up over at the hallway that lead from the office to the stairs. The wall blocked view of the stairs. As I looked over I saw a purple blur, move from the side of the hall down the hallway out of view.

My heart nearly stopped. I saw this a few more times coming to the conclusion a weird guy in purple was stalking me. The noises at night got louder and more terrifying. After a week or so of that, I started hearing a voice at night it was quiet and heavily mumbled. Using what left of my sanity I came to the conclusion that it was just my weird neighbors being weird. Until the second night of whispering. It said my name!

In a deep voice that location could not be found said “Felix.”

It was faint the first night but, after that it got louder and louder. After the fifth night of whispering I went to my friend’s house where some of my friends were going for a small party. My five nights of no sleep was obvious to my friends. They were worried about me. I assured them that it was just some stress. I was trying to make myself not look as crazy as mine friends already knew I was.

After a bit of drinking and our extreme D&D match(I kicked flank that night) with them. I looked out the window. There standing was this purple buck who kept bucking with me. It wore a dark purple suit with tons of dots on the suit. Though their colors I couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t his suit that caught my eye it was his face. Or lack of it. As I blinked he was gone. I jumped off the couch. My friends were able to calm me down after a bit. I was able to fall asleep that night there was no noise. Not a creak, scratch or whisper.

After waking up on my day off I realized I needed some groceries. I walked down to a general store. As soon as I got there I was surprised to see that there weren’t any ponies there. The parking lot was full as usual, but inside no pony was there. Though this should of sent off red flags for some reason my brain came up with the conclusion.

“Yeah, no stupid ponies to deal with.”

As I went about my myself; grabbing everything on the list as my usually day of shopping goes. It wasn’t till my last item my body started realizing something was off. I started sweating and my heart was pumping really fast. In my haze of stupidity I just passed it off as being hot. It wasn’t until I was one isle away from my last item, that my brain started working.

“Wait it’s a Saturday! This place should be packed! And it’s the second day of the month!”

I grabbed my last item(Sauerkraut) as adrenaline started kicking in. I ran as fast as I could down the rows of food until I ran into something. Hit it like a brick wall. I went flying back into a nearby rack of toys. As I waved about trying to defend myself I grabbed a handle and started swinging the item that had fallen on me as a weapon. As I started knocking things away. I thought I had defeated the monster. But, when I opened my eyes there was nothing there. And I was holding a wiffle ball bat and the monster I thought was attacking me was some toys that I knocked out of the way in the confusion. I stood up and looked at the exit. There was the doors that led outside as normal, but I couldn’t see anything outside. It was pitch black.

My brain came to the quick conclusion that probably meant death. My hooves figured out the same thing as I was running down the rows as fast as I could to the tools in hope to find some sort of weapon. I heard the same voice as I had heard during my sleep. Deep, low, terrifying and this time echoing loud. It boomed across the whole store.

“Run as fast as you want Felix, but you’ll never escape!”

I started to hear footsteps from behind me and I started feeling breath against my neck. I was only one or two rows away from the tool section. When I finally reached the row I slid down to the middle of the row and grabbed the first thing that survival horror games had taught me was a weapon. A crowbar! I turned around and swung the crowbar as hard as I could. Hitting my target hard.The hit made hands sting in pain I dropped my weapon.

I feel back to the ground as I looked up upon my nightmare fuel. It stood at around eight feet tall, in a purple suit. The purple suit was covered in different colored polka dots on his suit. His face being completely white from what I could see with his hat covering his face. His hand with it’s purple glove slowly moved up to his hat. As his hand hit the back of his purple hat with a band with the colors of the rainbow that held a single cartoonish red flower in the band. His hat tilted from being down so I could see his face.

His face was completely white with no facial features. Except on his face was drawn rather large black eyes and a drawn on mouth that showed no emotion. His long and slender body started to slightly move. His drawn on mouth and eyes started moving. He had pupils in his large black eyes. His mouth turned into a huge smile.

He looked down at me; frozen in fear from the thing that was well splendor. He then said in a rather high pitched voice.

“Oh, yeah.”

He then cleared his voice while holding up one of his long slender finger. After he finished he said in a louder voice.

“HELLO!!! I”M THE SPLENDOR MANE!!!!

His voiced echoed about the store. Then the candyman song started playing. Except candyman was changed from candyman to Splendor Mane.

“The Splendor Mane can!”

It went on for about 3 minutes until it finally stopped. He kept the same happy stare at me the whole time. After the song finished I was trembling covered in sweat and fear. I finally after a minute said.

“W-what i-is a Splendor Mane?”

He chuckled, grabbed me by the hoof, and pulled me up. Looking at me with the same happy expression. Blackness slowly surrounded us. All I could see was his face. His voice dropped low. He said in an almost whisper.

“I’m your fears, your nightmares, and the darkest corners of the world!”

He then looked down at his hoof. In his hoof he was holding a 4×4 card. He then muttered to himself.

“Pause for dramatic effect.”

Swinging his arms up knocking me to the floor, yelled in his high pitched voice.

“I’M THE SPLENDOR MANE!!!”

His voice echoed about the store…again. The Splendor Mane song started playing again. Suddenly I got rush of courage, stood up and yelled.

“Stop!”

“What? The music?”

“Yes ‘Splendor Mane’ the music!”

“Are you not finding this funny?”

“Not really.”

He suddenly had a sad face. He then threw a taco at my face and hit me. I stumbled back and said. “W-what the buck!”

Splendor man was laughing his flank off. He then put his blank back on. I whipped away the taco and said.

“Why the hay did you do that?”

“Because it was random! And as any 7th grade girl will tell you that is the height of comedy!XD”(He literally made this face, not kidding.)

He finished his sentence with a twirl then started eating a flying pancake cat.

“Just because some teenage girls find it funny, doesn’t actually make it funny!”

He dropped his flying pancake cat thing out of his hooves and mouth. Then his face turned into one of these bucking things.

“D:”

He then slapped me. My weak and fragile body fell to the floor. He burst out laughing. I got up and brushed myself off. After a minute or so he stopped laughing, looked down at me, and made a look of disapproval.

“You don’t like slapstick either! What is wrong with you!?!”

“Nothing, but that’s beside the point. Where am I? What’s a Splendor Mane?”

“Well, I am the Splendor Mane a sort of demon thing that does the bidding of the devil. Maybe you have heard about my more popular brother Slender Mane?

“Oh, yeah that shitty game nobody would stop talking about for a month then everybody forgot about.”

“Finally somepony who agrees that Slender was a poo-poo game.”

“Why did you say poo, you know I don’t care. But where am I?”

“Purgatory!”

In confusion I said, “What general store is Purgatory? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“Oh, but, Felixy it quite does.”

“How?”

“Well it’s, ah? Well? It’s evil. Yeah lets go with that.”

“What so evil about it?”

“Gosh-dern-it Felixy, can’t you just enjoy the randomness!? General stores are Purgatory that’s comedy gold!”

“Well I could see some good witty humor in that but, there’s no good writer who could exploit that.”

“Oh, Felixy you must like breaking the fourth wall!”

“Oh, no it was just an observation.”

Then a loud booming voice echoed.

“Did some mention breaking the fourth wall!?!?!”

I fell back to the ground starting to find it quite comfortable and easier to cower on. I then yelled in fear. “W-who is that?”

“You dummb that’s the writer of this fair story. You ask too many question and stutter too much.”

The writer followed up with, “Yes I wrote him after all my fears of a gay Slendermane and my social anxieties!”

Splendor man replied. “I am ‘NOT’ gay. You donkey turd!”

As the Splendor Mane fought with the author I spaced out in his own little world. I thought about the situation. Why? Why was I here? Did I do something to upset Celestia? Maybe not believing that she was our God, but that wouldn’t upset her enough to stick me with an annoying gay Slender Mane. Would he?

I was awoken from my mind nap when Splendor Mane picked me up by my throat. He mumbled

“Lets get it over with.”

I chocked out “What?”

“Like I said Felixy you ask too many questions.” Now in a sadder voice.

Splendor Mane carried me all the way to the exit and then dropped me onto the comfortable floor.

“Felixy you are deader than a metaphor that the author is to lazy to make.”

Completely shocked I stuttered. “No,no,no,no!”

“Sorry, Felix but, you got hit by a bus on your way to the store. Ha, you have became a statistic.”

“But, I can’t be dead.”

“Yes, you can you idiot! Apparently you were so low on the totem pole that I had to do the ‘job’ instead of either of my brothers.”

He then motioned for me to have some flying pancake cat.

“But-”

“I can’t do a thing Felix.”

“You-”

Splendor Mane then slapped me.

“I can’t Felix.”

The booming voice returned.

“Ugh, I just realized we can’t kill him off.”

“What!”

“Well he is telling the story. It wouldn’t make any sense.”

“But, this barely resolves it either!”

“Yeah I don’t know what to do with the plot so you guys wing it for a bit while I think this through.”

I was very happy at this. The fact I was going to live. I was smiling ear to ear. Splendor Mane then exploded.

“Fu- Must not swear must be kind and lovable! I just want to be random and be loved, but no my story get hijacked by some donkey-turd of an author!”

The author returned.

“Okay I figured it out.”

“What!?”

“Felix will be your proxy!”

Splendor Mane stood there mouth opened and shocked. The author then started again. “Well, it makes sense. Since this is pretty much a self insert fan fic. It just makes sense.”

“But!” Splendor Mane replied angrily.

“Do you want to be loved my random 7th grade girls?”

“Fine!” Splendor Mane said in a sad voice.

I cut in “I get to live!?”

“Yeah. You get to live Felix.”

I was pretty damn happy. Splendor man gave me a face like this

“:/”(Once again it was like this. Not being lazy.)

Splendor Mane then snapped his fingers and we were on a rooftop overlooking the city.

“Will I get to learn how to do that?”

“What? No! That is only for ponies who like random.”

“Oh, so that’s, how the British won World War II.”

“What!?!?!??!”

“Never mind, so what is are first job.”

Splendor Mane pulled out a laptop out of his pocket. He opened it to a website called “Crappypasta”. He then said.

“We have to protect this amazingly, funny, and smart pasta called ‘Bloody Fruit Loops of Death’ from all these haters. Especially this dirty-birdie tytiger10.”

“Wait did you just make an obscure reference?”

“Yeah of course. Obscure references are hilarious. Not as much as slapstick or random, but you know still pretty good.”

I was about to disagree when he slapped me then burst into a long laugh. I got back up and he laughed for a good twenty minutes. When he stopped I said to him.

“Obscure references aren’t that funny because if people don’t get them they feel left out…”

“YOU NEED TO SHUT UP!!! YOU-YOU DONKEY POO!! Random and Slapstick and Obscure References are the height of humor!! You are just being a loser hipster hater who has no life!!”

“This is going to be a long eternity.”

“Same here Felixy, Same here.”

Faces in the Storm

I think I’m going to go insane…

It’s been twenty eight days since the seventeenth of December, and the rain hasn’t faltered for a second since then. It keeps falling in sheets, driving down from the heavens like a waterfall. Outside, you feel like you could drown walking.

When this all started out, I don’t think that anypony thought much of it. I mean, this nightmare was just another winter storm then. It started in kind of an odd place, out in the ocean east of Equestria, across from the frozen north, but I’m not sure that meant anything to ponies who weren’t meteorologists or oceanographers. The storm started out expanding very rapidly. I’m not sure if it’s still growing or not, since the TV hasn’t come on for more than three weeks, but it sure hasn’t moved at all.

Things started looking more bizarre when the wind failed to move the storm. It just kept hammering Baltimare, growing south along the coastline from the Crystal Mountains all the way down to where I lived in Manehattan. The weather forecasts changed every few minutes, as forecasters revised their estimates, going from saying that there would be light flurries, to saying that there would be a few inches of snow, to saying that there would be an absolute blizzard across the city, and that everypony should stay inside.

My wife, Grace, couldn’t heed that warning, though. She had to go to work, and I had to stay home and take care of our five year old daughter, Cotton Top. When my wife walked outside that morning, I promised her that I would keep Cotton safe. Watching Grace pull out of the driveway in her Nissan Altima, I had no idea that would be the last time I would ever see her.

As the day wore on, the weather took a turn for the worse. It looked like the weather forecasters were right, predicting one of the worst storms Manehattan had seen in over a century. It amazed me when the power stayed on late into the night, but I wasn’t complaining. You never know exactly how bad a blackout really is until you go through one with a five year old who’s still terrified of the dark.

Not that I can say I’m not scared of the dark anymore, myself.

The last time we saw the cheerful, smiling forecasters on the Weather Channel, they were saying that the storm had expanded south into Fillydelphia, and that we could receive two feet of snow during the night. It was at about 6:23 P.M., I think. Less than a minute later, the Weather Channel cut off, and every program on the television changed to a warning, telling everyone to get out of Manehattan along whatever bridge they could take and avoid Manhattan Island.

I tried to reach the company where Grace worked on my phone, but the lines were down. I didn’t really know what was going on, but I decided to listen to the reporters on my TV, and get Cotton out of the city. I struggled with the idea that I shouldn’t just desert Grace, who worked somewhere on the south part of the island, but when I got outside, I realized that I couldn’t possibly risk going there.

To the south, across the horizon, the dark clouds of night were painted red with flames.

The traffic was horrible, but not as bad you might think. A lot of ponies were reluctant to leave. They all seemed to be in shock. I pulled our taxi cart along the roads through Nassau and Queens, seeing a lot of ponies standing by the roadside watching the shadow of the flames flickering against the sky, but running into far fewer actually driving along the road. Some of the ponies were slowly making their way by hoof out of the city, and as time went on, the traffic congestion got a bit worse, but amazingly I was able to get myself and Cotton out of Manhattan, back to the mainland before it became so bad that I couldn't pull the cart at all.

I still remember looking across the harbor on the road from Queens to the mainland, and seeing Manehattan Island burning. I don’t think that I’ll ever forget that. Cotton kept staring out the cart, speechless, and tired, too, I believe. I don’t know for certain what time it happened to be, but I think it was past eleven.

All night, I pulled through the countryside, trying to pick up a radio station that could tell me what was going on. There was nothing anywhere, though, except news of the mandatory evacuation of Manehattan. It seemed odd to me that I had seen very few police officers and no military officials anywhere. Now, looking back, I think they were probably all either elsewhere, or dead.

The next day, things were worse. The weather started getting warmer, and the snow turned to rain. Piles of snow by the roadside were melting, and the blacktop was covered with water and mud. The clouds kept getting darker as the day went on, and as we ran into more and more traffic, coming from places all along the coast of Equestria. The radio evacuation order was going out then to everypony from Fillydelphia to Baltimare.

By the time that night fell and Luna's moon rose, it was pretty hard to tell night from day. Cotton started asking me where her mother was, and I had to lie to her, and tell her that Grace was okay. Really, I was lying to myself, too. I thought that maybe she was somewhere along the highway right now, safely in her a building that wasn't burning.   I have no doubts now that she was already dead.

We eventually had to pull off of the road and go to sleep in our cart. There were some strange sounds in the night around us, and my daughter kept waking up, scared that the monster she believed had been living under her bed in Manehattan was there with us, living under the cart. I told her that it was all just her imagination, but I couldn’t help hearing the scratching on the undercarriage, or the occasional low purr coming from somewhere further out in the night.

When morning came, everything seemed well again. That is, until I got moving. I wanted to believe that the sounds I had heard the night before, and the ever present sense of something out there in the night had all been figments of my imagination, but what I saw along the roadside shook that pleasant notion from my head. Everywhere, there were carts still sitting on the roadside, their windows broken out, and their doors sometimes torn off of their hinges. In front of some, deep trails led through through the melting snow into the distance.

There was no way that I was going to stay out in the cart exposed like that at night. Instead, I chose to find a house along the road which looked empty, and, well, I broke in. To be more accurate, I knocked on the door, and it creaked open on its own. No pony was inside, so I decided that I and Cotton could stay in there for the night. The door locked safely and securely behind us, and we seemed to be safe.

We’ve been in that house ever since.

At first, we stayed in the upper part of the house, but as the nights and the days grew together into one dark, pitch black blur, we decided that the basement was probably safer. Just in time, too. Soon after we went down to the basement, I heard something break down the front door and crash around in the upper part of the building, toppling tables and knocking over the television.

Time passed slowly, eternally dragging on. The temperature kept getting warmer and warmer, until it began to feel more like the middle of summer than the middle of winter. Then, one night (I think, it was impossible to tell), the world around us grew warmer than the inside of an oven.

I can’t say that the temperature was lower than one hundred and fifty degrees. It was almost literally scalding. A little bit of water had started creeping into the basement through windows high up on the walls, and I and my daughter tried to stay out of it, because it was nearly hot enough to boil.

That was the night I saw something I really wish that I could just unsee.

My daughter went to sleep early. She was tired, and, I think, a little sick. For a little while, I let her sleep alone, choosing to look out through one of the closed windows, where no water was pouring in.

At first, I saw nothing but the pitch black of the storm. Then, I noticed something out there in the night. A few darkly glowing patches of luminescent green, coming from something I couldn’t see. I watched them for a while as they bounced through the depthless darkness, moving along at a distance I couldn’t really understand.

Then, there were several bright flashes of lightning, and I realized that what I was watching was much larger than anything I could have possibly imagined.

How tall it was, I’m not totally sure, but I know it had to be bigger than a mountain. It was still just a shadow in the distance, but it had enough form for me to know that it was not normal, even in the twisted alternate version of reality which comes with the storm. I could feel the heat, coming off of it, and coming through the window; like an open fire, less than an inch from my face. In its wake, there were flames, spouting up from the forest of southern Manehattan, and casting black trails of smoke against the black sky.

Soon, the light from the brief outburst of lightning strikes fell away, but the green glow continued. I kept watching for a while before going back to sit with Cotton Top, those images burned forever into my mind.

When morning came, the world was a bit cooler. As the next day wore on, and the next after it, the temperature went even lower, and so did our stocks of food.

The owners of the house had a few weeks worth of food in the basement. Apparently, they were farmers who had kept old traditions of canning and drying their own produce. It lasted us longer than I thought, but now, we’ve been out for a while I think that I and Cotton are going to head out. If the cart is in good condition, we’ll take it. If it doesn’t…we’ll figure something out.

There’s water everywhere, and it’s more than foot deep on the flat land here. The ground reached its saturation point weeks ago, and the water hasn’t had time to drain away fully. I don’t know what’s going to happen if it keeps raining; I guess this part of Manehattan is going to join the ocean.

I’m just thinking that maybe we can get to safety somewhere. There has to be some place where this storm hasn’t reached. I’m leaving this note here, just in case someone finds it eventually. I just want there to be some remnant of I, Cotton, and Grace passing through this world. I don’t want us all to just be three more faces in the storm.

-C.S.B.-

Proven Innocent

The police had everything about the kidnapping of Pipsqueak wrong. Their prime suspect, Scooter the Clown was a well known foals's entertainer in town. He performed at parties, like Pipsqueak's all the time.

At the precinct I am an insignificant ant flailing for the attention of titans. Finally, a cop turns to me and says, "Are you lost little colt?" On cue, my silence held no longer.

"The balloons with the ransom note, they were filled with helium right?" I asked. "Scooter never had a helium tank there that day. He blew everything up by hand. Check his cart and you will see I am telling the truth."

The officer smiled and left, only to return 10 minutes later ghost stricken. He sat down and rattled "I don't know how we missed that kid, but you just did that clown a service."

I beamed as I walked home, knowing my hero was safe not ever dreaming he would thank me in person. When I saw him a block from home my jaw dropped.

"Someone's been a good little detective. I have a special badge for you," Scooter said.

He reached into his pocket, grabbed a balloon in the shape of a badge and then blew it up in front of me. As soon as I held it's light floating form, my heart froze.

Without another word, he turned around and started dancing down the street. Pausing only occasionally to put a balloon to his lips, tie it and then release it into the air. As each one drifted into the sky I realized just how wrong all of us were about Scooter.

Red and Black

Twilight tried hard not to think about it.  As she played with the knife in her hooves, it became harder and harder, and the urge to cry became stronger and stronger.  If she really wanted to stop thinking about it, she would have set the knife down somewhere and left.  But she couldn’t.  She had a job to do, and like it or not, she had to do it.  Even though it involved her plunging a knife into the heart of one of her best friends.

She stared into the stained glass of the door.  Despite it being nearly cracked, she could still see inside the room.  There was a mare in the corner, huddled up into a ball.  She slowly rocked back and forth, making incomprehensible noises. She yanked her hair out, ignoring the blood that dripped to the floor.  She bashed her head on the wall over and over again on the steel walls, issuing a loud bang every time she did.  If that wasn’t heartbreaking enough, then the screams would convince Twilight otherwise.

The mare in the room suddenly stopped moving.  Her head rested against the wall, as if he was sleeping.  But her eyes were open.  And they slowly started to change colors.  Her pupils turning red, and her bloodshot eyes suddenly lighting on fire.  The mare started to scream.  He screamed so loud, he could’ve shattered the glass asunder.  Her body was shaking wildly like he was having a seizure, yelling all the while.  

The flames on her eyes slowly receded.  It wasn’t until this time Twilight noticed the dramatic change.  Her fur, which was once sky blue, now a pallid gray, was tightening on her body.  The skin was tearing itself apart, exposing the muscle beneath it.  Her teeth had fallen out of her mouth, which was now dripping with blood.  The rest of her hair fell to the ground.  Her eyes were bleeding heavily.  

This was no longer a pony.  This was one of them.  A Sanguis monster.  A blood monster.

Twilight didn’t realize she was crying until it stopped moving.  It sat on the ground, propped up against the wall opposite the door.  Her head was cocked to the side.

Every negative emotion suddenly poured out.  She starting screaming and crying.  She pounded her fists against the door, cursing all the while.  She didn’t stop, until the creature in the room tilted its head towards the door.  And then it spoke.  

Nopony, not even Twilight who heard it herself, could describe just how awful he sounded.  It was horrifying.  It was... unholy.  

She held her hoof out, and pleaded to her.  “K̡̰̚̕i̮̹͛͒l̡̖̎͝l͎̟̓́.̩̞̄͘.͚̹̈́̿.͚͉̋̎ ͇̤͆͒m̖̯̓͠e̮̩͒̚.͇̞́͝ ̠̙̆͌ ̡̝̔͛P̞̠̋̚l͎̰͂̓ę̩͊͝ă͕͈̂s̫̺͆̑ẻ̮̞̅.̗̓̿ ̯̪̔̌ ̺̫̾̔J̛̣̹̈́u̝̳͗͌s̻͉͊͒t̤̦͂̄ ̗̮͊̚ḝ̰̐n̘͉̑̅d̹̥̋̚ ̳͌̆͜i̧̲͐̕t͇̥̿͘.̲̙̏̊”  

It was so awful, Twilight nearly threw up.  

Twilight had to take care of this soon.  If she didn’t, it would break out and attack the residence of their settlement.  

Twilight put her hoof on the handle to open the door.  But as she went to turn the knob, she found that just couldn’t make herself do it.  I can’t do this.  I can’t just kill her.  She’s my friend!

Her hoof still shaking, she let go of the handle, and ran out of the shed.  

Every time she opened a door to go outside, Twilight expected to see everything miraculously turned back to the way it once was.  She expected to open the door and hear the soft chirp of birds in the trees that swayed lightly in the wind.  The sunlight softly touching her skin.  Instead she was greeted with the same red and black surroundings.  The screams of the unholy creations that were conjured by unknown means, somewhere in the distance.  The dead trees creaking in the wind.  Thunderous skies of black and red, booming overheard.  Not even the sun looked normal.  Instead of the bright fireball in the sky, it was now a large, red and black atrocity.  Red lightning continually flashed from it.  Twilight swore it would one day crash into the Equestria and destroy everything.  Twilight always told herself that she wasn’t wishing it would.  

As she walked into the streets of the settlement, ponies looked at her.  Staring daggers at her.  All of them feeling sympathy for her.  She didn’t need it.  That wasn’t going to bring back her beloved back.

A stallion in a crowd shoved his way to Twilight.  He looked ready to strangle her to death in front of everypony.  “You can’t keep doing this, Twilight!  We can’t have one of those things in our town!”  He loaded the word things with enough acid to soak through cement.  

She hated that word.  She hated it with a passion.  It made her feel dirty inside, and left a saline taste in her mouth.  

“I swear to Celestia, we’ll have to take away your rations until you learn to do your job!  Now get back to that shed right now, and kill that thing!” the stallion screamed.

“That’s not a thing!”  She shot back.  “It was a person that I cared about!  She had a name!  So call her that!

“I could care less what it’s name is!  I want it gone!”  he growled.  

“...No!  I can’t do it!  I can’t kill Rainbow Dash, dad!”

There was a moment of complete, and crippling silence.  The father and daughter stared each other down.  Then the stallion walked toward her, his hoofsteps almost as loud as thunder.  She tried to step back, but it was already too late.  Her father slapped her across the face.  

She held her face, trying to make the pain go away.  She started sobbing.  Sobbing like she never has in her entire life.  The reality of everything crashed down on her like a collapsing building.  She dropped to the ground, life crushing her beneath its cruelty.

All of her other friends were dead, Celestia and Luna were dead, Equestria was practically burning to a crisp, her wings were torn off by a Sanguis monster as well as her horn.  Her life was practically over.  Everything that she held dear was destroyed.  

She stood back up, people still staring at her and her father.  Her father walked over to her.  She felt herself being lift up off the ground.  She felt herself floating away from the crowd.  She opened her eyes.  

Her father was taking her to the shed.

Her father kicked open the door in an act of rage.  He pulled Twilight into the room and shoved her against the door.  “Look at it!”  Twilight said nothing, but refused to look into the room.  “LOOK!” he screamed.

Twilight slowly looked into the room.  Her good friend was hitting the walls whilst repeatedly muttering to herself.  

“H̸̝̠̜̦̽̈́̉̂e̵͚̗̜̒̉̊̚ͅ ̷̖̥̠̱͌͛̂̇ẘ̵̖̹͚̼̈́̆̑ȁ̶̯̮̘͔̈́̇̏į̸̞͎͇̋̅͊̌t̵̪̝̣̭̆̓͆̄s̷͔̜͓̜̑͑͗̆ ̷̦͓̻̮̈́̎̏͂b̵̢̹̯̅͌̉͘͜ȩ̵͓̝̫̅̋͛̈́h̷̹̼̙̽͑͂̚ͅi̵̪̭̗̖̊̿̔͂n̸̦̞͖̪̔͛̈́̈d̵̪̳̠͕͌͐̍͝ ̴̱̟̘̄̈́̎̿ͅț̶̨̦͖̔̏͑̓h̸̦̝̮̤̽̔͆͆e̸̡̳̣̬̐͑͋͠ ̴͙̺̘͎̍̄͑̓w̴̗̣̜̲͛̃̿͊a̵̭̙͙̤̿͌͌͝l̸̪̰͍̘̒̒̈́͝l̵̤͍̺̯͂͛̂̔s̷̛͓̘̙̋͊̔.”

Her voice sounded much worse than it did before.  How that was even possible, she didn’t know.  She didn’t want to know.  

“Do you see what she’s become? There’s nothing we can do for her.  She’s dead!”

“Shut up!” she shouted back. Trying to fight back, she kicked, she screamed, but her father was much stronger than she was.      

      “Î̷̛͉̪̠̔̕ͅn̶͔̰̥̬͊͗̎͝ ̶̠͈̗̣̅̑̾̀ȃ̵̧͍̮͔̀̽͆ ̴̨̯̰̘̅̑̊͆p̴͍̩͍͉̃͂̒́á̸̭̳͈̏͛͝ͅl̸̹͙̪̗̔̀̿̀ä̴͔̯̖͈́̓̀̕ć̵̡͍̪͖͌̇͝ḛ̴͓͇̘́́͋͝ ̸͎̭͖͖͋̉͛̽ǒ̶̮͉̞̖̈̅̌f̵̖̥̱͔̈͗͒͘ ̵̖̣͉̲͊̃͋̀t̵̹̖̲̂̾̇̊ͅȏ̴̧̭̰̤̀̍̒r̷̬̺̝͇͗̀͂̏t̵͇̭̻̬̄̾͂̕ű̶̢̢͙͖̑͋̒ŗ̸̢͖͗̅̀́͜e̶̦͚͔̻͒̔̋̄d̴͓͇͔̳̽̄̃͝ ̴̢̣̫̋̾̽͗͜ḡ̵̣͉͔̔̔͆͜l̶̢̛̘̝̏͑̚ͅą̵͍͎̙̇̊̆̈́s̴͈̝̜̣̓̐́̓s̷̡̰͔̰̈́̂́̈́.̵̹̻͚̪̀̋̿͝”

Her father impatiently yanked the door open, and threw her inside with a knife.  

She ran to the door, pounding and pounding, begging for her father to let her out.  She hit the glass so hard it shattered and the pieces fell to the floor.  "Let me out of here!"

           "Not until you finish your job."  With that, he left the shed.  Not even bothering to look back at her.

           There was hoofsteps coming up to her.  Slow, fumbling hoofsteps. She wouldn't look behind her, in fear that it might attack when she turned around.

           She knew it was going to say something else.  But it didn't.  She waited in anticipation for it to say it, and yet it didn't.  She was afraid it would've torn her into pieces if she so much as uttered a word out of her quivering mouth.  But then she remembered that these things don't crave flesh until they see the sun.  Then something in their minds tells them to feed.

           Twilight slowly turned around.  Luckily, it wasn't right in front of her face.  But it was standing close to her.  It nearly fell down, due to the fact that it wasn't accustomed to balancing on its own hooves.  But it made eye contact with her, and never looked away.  

           Twilight picked up the knife carefully, to make sure she didn't set it off in some way.  It watched her hand with great intrigue. It gasped as it picked it up, but didn't attack her.  Twilight jumped when it gasped.  

           She risked a step.  It still stared at her.  She risked another.  And another.  And another.  Soon, she was right next to it, knife shaking in her hoof.  

           If this was to get out and see the sun... The consequences were too awful to think about.  

           Raising the knife up high, she aimed it at its heart.  That's when it happened.

           "s̵̛̠̜̜̑̚ẻ̸̺̝̲̽̔r̵̻̯̻̒͛̀v̷̮̫̟͊͗̾ë̴͎̞́̐͝ͅd̸̤̼̏͒̉ͅ ̵̬̮̥̓̍̉ḃ̶̨͙̦͂̈y̸͚̮̬͋̚͠ ̷̙͇̙͑̽͝l̴̢̰̻̾̿͂ȩ̴̝̮̓̂̋ġ̷̡̜̮̈́́i̶̛̫̖̝̍͆ó̷̖̺̲̅̎n̴̡̘̻̔̌̚s̶̨͎͕̿͐̉ ̸̢̻̺̑́̓f̴̟͓̬͑̎͝o̷̬̪̻̎̈́͊ȓ̷̰̙̩̈́̃g̶͈̖͆͂͜͝e̸͇̫̲̓̃̐ḑ̵̤̮̓͛͠ from the tears of the ş̵̘̤́̾͠l̵̫͉̹͒̀̽ę̴̢̪͌̎̿ȅ̷̩̰͍͋͆p̵̧̬̘̏̈́͠ĺ̴̨͎̩͊̒ë̸͇͕̘́̇̅s̷̹͔͚̽̔̓s̴̢͎̣̑͛̍ ̵͔͖͓̌̈̽d̷̡̤̩̉̏̒è̴̡̳̬̇͑ã̴̼͓̣́̌ḏ̷͕̪̽̈́͂ ̵̭̪͚̿͌͝á̴̺̳͓̍͝ņ̷̭̺̓̆̅d̸̥̤͉̅̂̓

̴̭͉̻͂͌̈́c̵̥̳͎̽̒͑ḷ̷͖̮́͊̃ą̸͇̦͛̅̊d̶͉͇͇̐̆͝ ̷̙͉̙̉̂͌ị̴͚̈́͌͜͝n̸̰̘͚̍̌̽ ̷̝̪̥͛̈́̐a̶̟͖̥͆̉̀r̴̜̹̬͊̋̿m̵̛̫̯͌̄͜ö̶͈͚̙̀̒r̵͎̣̦͆̓̕ ̷̻̹̘́͠͠c̵̟̱̱̉̇̅a̸̝̱̝̎̒͌r̸͉̼̬̈́̎̚v̵̨̺̲͛͆͛ë̶̠̳̩́͘̕d̶̨͖̠̆̀̓ ̵̜̬̻̈̅͘f̷̥̟̫͌̈́͋r̷͈̭͛̀̕ͅȯ̶̧͈̆̈́͜m̸̞̯̟̿̈̀ ̶̙̫͓͑͛̅t̷͚̲̦͆̈́͂h̶̬̜͎̆̅͠e̵͓͙͈͆̿͝ ̷̧̬̠͋̽̎s̴͙̮̝̃̅͝u̷͓̠̰̒̿̈́f̴̫̼͓̋̇͌f̷̻̲̃̈͜͝ě̷̝͔̓͋͜r̶̭̹̺̍͌̅i̴̢͈̰̎̈̌n̴̪͉͇̍̌͠g̴͕̳͖̐͂͝ ̸̢̨̫͐́̇ȍ̸̼̺̖̋̃f̶͕̣̫̓͝͠ ̴̧̨̞̂́̄m̴̟͎͚̃͗̕o̶͔̮͖͑̊͝t̵̝̬̘̔͊́h̴̛͇̠̙́̇ê̴͕̥̼̋̋ṟ̴͕͋̀͜͝ṣ̶̡̳̈́̊̂.̶̩̱̦̏̃̌ ̵͎̠̺̋́̽

̶̭̜͔̉̉̒"

That was her!  That was Rainbow Dash!  For a moment, Rainbow Dash was a alive and talking to Twilight.  But those words weren't her’s.  They were coming from the monster in her mind.  And she had to free her from it.  

But right then in that moment of ambivalent hesitation, the creature in front of her stuck her hoof out and pointed at Twilight.  She looked into the monster's eyes.  The never ending darkness in its eyes showed brightness.  Her eyes became violet once again,  and her fur returned to its regular color.  But the blood remained there on her face.  That could be easily washed.

“T-Twilight.”  Rainbow said.  Rainbow Dash said.

For the first time in a long time, a smile appeared on Twilight’s face.  She practically screamed as she threw herself into her, tackling her and forcing them both to the ground.  It was what Pinkie Pie would’ve have done.

Time passed while Twilight and Rainbow were stuck in that moment of time.  The world was practically on fire, and there they were, hugging each other while in a world of hell.  Equestria could implode, or the red sun could swallow the earth in an act of fury, and they would have been happy just lying there.

Staring into each other's eyes, they stood back up.  Rainbow struggled with his recovered balance.  

After standing up, Twilight through her hooves around Rainbow again.  “I thought I lost you.”

Rainbow wiped away some blood on her face.  She smiled. “You’ll never lose me.” They hugged again.

Not long after beginning their hug, it felt like she was squeezing a little too tight.  She tried pulling away, but her grasp on her was too strong.  Rainbow added more and more pressure, to the point where it felt like she was going to crack her ribs by doing this.  And that’s exactly what she was doing.

Twilight fought back with all of her might, but to no avail.  Rainbow Dash pushed Twilight away and grabbed her head. Twilight looked up to Rainbow.  Her eyes were black again.  The same red pupil occupied the center of her soulless eyes.  Blood dripped from her eyes and mouth.  As it fell down to the floor, it started to turn black.  It looked like there was a miniature lightning storm going on in the crimson liquid.  

The last thing Twilight saw was the smile crossing Rainbow’s face.  The last thing Twilight heard was that horrifying voice again.  Her squeeze grew tighter and tighter,  and with a sickening crack, Rainbow Dash smashed Twilight’s skull and pulverized her brain.  Brain matter and blood clotted on Rainbow’s hooves.  

“H̑̋҉̭ë͇̽̒̾͌̄͐̔͜ͅ ̩͍̓͛̀c̜͉͓̦̳̰̿ͥ̌ͤͮ̔͆̈̚ͅo̓ͫͯ̈́̒̐̂̓͏͏͓͎̬̙̹m̨͎̼͋͛̌̇̾ͭ̓e͆̅̀ͭ͐́̊͑̓҉̺š̢̼̟̲̰̖̌̀.”

Chicken Dinner

A first hand report of the story originally reported in The Montréal Mirror in 1964:

A mother and father decided they needed a break, not having much alone time in the almost a year since their young daughter, Scootaloo, was born. They wanted to have a night out, dinner, maybe a movie, and the honeymoon suite at a local hotel to possibly give Scootaloo a little brother or sister. They called their most trusted babysitter, who unfortunately was already engaged for the evening. But she did refer a good friend of hers, Opal, who she swore could be trusted. They spoke with the new babysitter and agreed to have her arrive no later than 6:30 so the parents could get an early start.

As the parents got ready to paint the town red, Scootaloo lay on the floor, gnawing on his teething ring in the den off to the back of the house. At shortly after 6:20 the father walked past the open doorway and saw an elderly woman sitting in the rocking chair facing the child, her back to the doorway. The father was slightly startled as his wife hadn’t mentioned the sitter had arrived. He spoke to her as he straightened his tie in the mirror on wall opposite the doorway.

“Oh my, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in. We appreciate you coming on such short notice. My wife put some bread in the oven for you. The addresses for the restaurant and hotel are on the counter if you need to reach us. We will be home around 9 tomorrow morning. Goodbye Scootaloo, I love you.”

He hurried down the hallway as his wife was coming down the stairs, meeting her at the bottom his wife asked “What were you saying dear”

“Oh nothing, I was just giving the sitter instructions, now we should hurry so we can make our reservation on time.” he replied grabbing his coat as he unlocked the front door.

They went to the taxi cart and were in such a rush they didn’t notice the car pull into the drive way not 15 seconds after they pulled out. They proceeded to have the best night out they could remember. The wife become somewhat concerned shortly after arriving at the hotel when she wrote home and no one wrote back in three hours. The husband calmed her as he pulled her into bed, kissing her neck.

“Don’t worry dear, she’s an older lady and it’s almost 10, she must have gone to bed after putting Toby down.”

The next morning after a nice breakfast they arrived home to find a note on the door. It read:

“I arrived at 6:30 as agreed but no one was home.

If you had made other plans I would have appreciated

if somepony had called me.

Opal”

The husband gave his wife a confused look as she put a hand to her mouth and her face turned white. She threw open the front door calling out for her son. There was no reply, in fact there was no sound at all in the house, just the smell of something burning. She ran up the stairs as her husband raced to the back of the house the find the kitchen filled with smoke. He turned off the stove and used pot holders to grab the smoldering pan of the charred thing in their oven and dropped it in the sink. His wife came into the kitchen crying into her hooves.

“He’s not here! Scootaloo’s gone! She took him!”

The husband then took her in his embrace as she cried. It was then that he noticed blood on the lid of the trash can. A pit formed in his stomach as he left his wife and opened the trash can. He exhaled as he realized that it was only the bread his wife had made. It was then that his eyes shot wide open as his wife let out a fresh scream of horror. As he turned toward her, he caught sight of the melted remains of the teething ring on the bottom of the open oven.

NoEnd House

Let me start by saying that Onyx Masquerade was addicted to heroin.

We were friends in college and continued to be after I graduated. Notice that I said "I". He dropped out after two years of barely cutting it. After I moved out of the dorms and into a small apartment, I didn't see Onyx as much. We would write to each other every now and then.  There was a period where he hadn’t written in five weeks straight.  I wasn't worried. He was a pretty notorious flake and drug addict, so I assumed he just stopped caring. Then one night I got a letter from him.  It was unexpected, and startled me when it showed up.

"Felix, man, we need to talk."

That was when he told me about the NoEnd House. It got that name because no one had ever reached the final exit. The rules were pretty simple and cliche: reach the final room of the building and you win 5000 bits. There were nine rooms in all. The house was located outside of the city, roughly four miles from my house. Apparently Onyx had tried and failed. He was a heroin and who-knows-what-the-buck addict, so I figured the drugs got the best of him and he wigged out at a paper ghost or something. He told me it would be too much for anypony. That it was unnatural.

I didn't believe him. I told him I would check it out the next night and no matter how hard he tried to convince me otherwise, 5000 bits sounded too good to be true. I had to go. I set out the following night.

When I arrived, I immediately noticed something strange about the building. Have you ever seen or read something that shouldn't be scary, but for some reason a chill crawls up your spine? I walked toward the building and the feeling of uneasiness only intensified as I opened the front door.

My heart slowed and I let a relieved sigh leave me as I entered. The room looked like a normal hotel lobby decorated for Nightmare Night. A sign was posted in place of a worker. It read, "Room 1 this way. Eight more follow. Reach the end and you win!" I chuckled and made my way to the first door.

The first area was almost laughable. The decor resembled the Nightmare Night aisle of a Hay-Mart, complete with sheet ghosts and animatronic zombies that gave a static growl when you passed by. At the far end was an exit; it was the only door besides the one I entered through. I brushed through the fake spider webs and headed for the second room.

I was greeted by fog as I opened the door to room two. The room definitely upped the ante in terms of technology. Not only was there a fog machine, but a bat hung from the ceiling and flew in a circle. Scary. They seemed to have a Nightmare Night soundtrack that one would find in a 1 bit store on loop somewhere in the room. I didn't see a stereo, but I guessed they must have used a PA system. I stepped over a few toy rats that wheeled around and walked with a puffed chest across to the next area.

I reached for the doorknob and my heart sank to my knees. I did not want to open that door. A feeling of dread hit me so hard I could barely even think. Logic overtook me after a few terrified moments, and I shook it off and entered the next room.

Room three is when things began to change.

On the surface, it looked like a normal room. There was a chair in the middle of the wood paneled floor. A single lamp in the corner did a poor job of lighting the area, casting a few shadows across the floor and walls. That was the problem. Shadows. Plural.

With the exception of the chair's, there were others. I had barely walked in the door and I was already terrified. It was at that moment that I knew something wasn't right. I didn't even think as I automatically tried to open the door I came through. It was locked from the other side.

That set me off. Was somepony locking the doors as I progressed? There was no way. I would have heard them. Was it a mechanical lock that set automatically? Maybe. But I was too scared to really think. I turned back to the room and the shadows were gone. The chair's shadow remained, but the others were gone. I slowly began to walk. I used to hallucinate when I was a kid, so I wrote off the shadows as a figment of my imagination. I began to feel better as I made it to the halfway point of the room. I looked down as I took my steps and that's when I saw it.

Or didn't see it. My shadow wasn't there. I didn't have time to scream. I ran as fast as I could to the other door and flung myself without thinking into the room beyond.

The fourth room was possibly the most disturbing. As I closed the door, all light seemed to be sucked out and put back into the previous room. I stood there, surrounded by darkness, not able to move. I'm not afraid of the dark and never have been, but I was absolutely terrified. All sight had left me. I held my hoof in front of my face and if I didn't know what I was doing, I would never have been able to tell. Darkness doesn't describe it. I couldn't hear anything. It was dead silence. When you're in a sound-proof room, you can still hear yourself breathing. You can hear yourself being alive.

I couldn't.

I began to stumble forward after a few moments, my rapidly beating heart the only thing I could feel. There was no door in sight. Wasn't even sure there was one this time. The silence was then broken by a low hum.

I felt something behind me. I spun around wildly but could barely even see my nose. I knew it was there, though. Regardless of how dark it was, I knew something was there. The hum grew louder, closer. It seemed to surround me, but I knew whatever was causing the noise was in front of me, inching closer. I took a step back; I had never felt that kind of fear. I can't really describe true fear. I wasn't even scared I was going to die; I was scared of what the alternative was. I was afraid of what this thing had in store for me. Then the candle flames flashed for a second and I saw it.

Nothing. I saw nothing and I know I saw nothing there. The room was again plunged into darkness and the hum became a wild screech. I screamed in protest; I couldn't hear this Celestia-damn sound for another minute. I ran backwards, away from the noise, and fumbled for the door handle. I turned and fell into room five.

Before I describe room five, you have to understand something. I am not a drug addict. I have had no history of drug abuse or any sort of psychosis short of the foalhood hallucinations I mentioned earlier, and those were only when I was really tired or just waking up. I entered the NoEnd House with a clear head.

After falling in from the previous room, my view of room five was from my back, looking up at the ceiling. What I saw didn't scare me; it simply surprised me. Trees had grown into the room and towered above my head. The ceilings in this room were taller than the others, which made me think I was in the center of the house. I got up off the floor, dusted myself off, and took a look around. It was definitely the biggest room of them all. I couldn't even see the door from where I was; various brush and trees must have blocked my line of sight with the exit.

Up to this point, I figured the rooms were going to get scarier, but this was a paradise compared to the last room. I also assumed whatever was in room four stayed back there. I was incredibly wrong.

As I made my way deeper into the room, I began to hear what one would hear if they were in a forest; chirping bugs and the occasional flap of birds seemed to be my only company in this room. That was the thing that bothered me the most. I heard the bugs and other animals, but I didn't see any of them. I began to wonder how big this house was. From the outside when I first walked up to it, it looked like a regular house. It was definitely on the bigger side, but this was almost a full forest in here. The canopy covered my view of the ceiling, but I assumed it was still there, however high it was. I couldn't see any walls, either. The only way I knew I was still inside was that the floor matched the other rooms: the standard dark wood paneling.

I kept walking, hoping that the next tree I passed would reveal the door. After a few moments of walking, I felt a mosquito fly onto my face. I shook it off and kept going. A second later, I felt about ten more land on my skin at different places. I felt them crawl up and down my back, my stomach and legs and a few made their way across my face. I flailed wildly to get them all off but they just kept crawling. I looked down and let out a muffled scream - more of a whimper, to be honest. I didn't see a single bug. Not one bug was on me, but I could feel them crawl. I heard them fly by my face and sting my skin but I couldn't see a single one. I dropped to the ground and began to roll wildly. I was desperate. I hated bugs, especially ones I couldn't see or touch. But these bugs could touch me and they were everywhere.

I began to crawl. I had no idea where I was going; the entrance was nowhere in sight and I still hadn't even seen the exit. So I just crawled, my skin wriggling with the presence of those phantom bugs. After what seemed like hours, I found the door. I grabbed the nearest tree and propped myself up, mindlessly slapping my legs to no avail. I tried to run, but I couldn't; my body was exhausted from crawling and dealing with whatever it was that was on me. I took a few shaky steps to the door, grabbing each tree on the way for support.

It was only a few feet away when I heard it. The low hum from before. It was coming from the next room and it was deeper. I could almost feel it inside my body, like when you stand next to an amp at a concert. The feeling of the bugs on me lessened as the hum grew louder. As I placed my hoof on the doorknob, the bugs were completely gone but I couldn't bring myself to turn the knob. I knew that if I let go, the bugs would return and there was no way I would make it back to room four. I just stood there, my head pressed against the door marked six and my hoof shakily grasping the knob. The hum was so loud I couldn't even hear myself pretend to think. There was nothing I could do but move on. Room six was next, and room six was Tartarus.

I closed the door behind me, my eyes held shut and my ears ringing. The hum was surrounding me. As the door clicked into place, the hum was gone. I opened my eyes in surprise and the door I had shut was gone. It was just a wall now. I looked around in shock. The room was identical to room three - the same chair and lamp - but with the correct amount of shadows this time. The only real difference was that there was no exit door and the one I came in through was gone. As I said before, I had no previous issues in terms of mental instability, but at that moment I fell into what I now know was insanity. I didn't scream. I didn't make a sound.

At first I pawed softly. The wall was tough, but I knew the door was there somewhere. I just knew it was. I pawed at where the doorknob was. I pawed at the wall frantically with both hooves. Then I start pounding on the door. I pounded so hard, my hooves felt like they were about to fall off. I fell silently to my haunches, the only sound in the room the incessant knock against the wall. I knew it was there. The door was there, I knew it was just there. I knew if I could just get past this wall -

"Are you alright?"

I jumped off the ground and spun in one motion. I leaned against the wall behind me and I saw what it was that spoke to me; to this day I regret ever turning around.

There was a little filly. She was wearing a soft, white dress that went down to her ankles. She had long blonde hair to the middle of her back and white skin and blue eyes. She was the most frightening thing I had ever seen, and I know that nothing in my life will ever be as unnerving as what I saw in her. While looking at her, I saw something else. Where she stood I saw what looked like a stallion's body, only larger than normal and covered in hair. He was bald from head to hoof, but his head was not pony and his toes were hooves. It wasn't the Devil, but at that moment it might as well have been. The form had the head of a ram and the snout of a wolf.

It was horrifying and it was synonymous with the little filly in front of me. They were the same form. I can't really describe it, but I saw them at the same time. They shared the same spot in that room, but it was like looking at two separate dimensions. When I saw the filly I saw the form, and when I saw the form I saw the filly. I couldn't speak. I could barely even see. My mind was revolting against what it was attempting to process. I had been scared before in my life and I had never been more scared than when I was trapped in the fourth room, but that was before room six. I just stood there, staring at whatever it was that spoke to me. There was no exit. I was trapped here with it. And then it spoke again.

"Felix, you should have listened."

When it spoke, I heard the words of the little Felix, but the other form spoke through my mind in a voice I won't attempt to describe. There was no other sound. The voice just kept repeating that sentence over and over in my mind and I agreed. I didn't know what to do. I was slipping into madness, yet couldn't take my eyes off what was in front of me. I dropped to the floor. I thought I had passed out, but the room wouldn't let me. I just wanted it to end. I was on my side, my eyes wide open and the form staring down at me. Scurrying across the floor in front of me was one of the battery-powered rats from the second room.

The house was toying with me. But for some reason, seeing that rat pulled my mind back from whatever depths it was headed and I looked around the room. I was getting out of there. I was determined to get out of that house and live and never think about this place again. I knew this room was Tartarus and I wasn't ready to take up a residency. At first, it was just my eyes that moved. I searched the walls for any kind of opening. The room wasn't that big, so it didn't take long to soak up the entire layout. The demon still taunted me, the voice growing louder as the form stayed rooted where it stood. I placed my hoof on the floor, lifted myself up to all four and turned to scan the wall behind me.

Then I saw something I couldn't believe. The form was now right at my back, whispering into my mind how I shouldn't have come. I felt its breath on the back of my neck, but I refused to turn around. A large rectangle was dented into the wood, with a small dent chipped away in the center of it. Right in front of my eyes I saw the large seven I had mindlessly etched into the wall. I knew what it was: room seven was just beyond that wall where room five was moments ago.

I don't know how I had done it - maybe it was just my state of mind at the time - but I had created the door. I knew I had. In my madness, I had pounded into the wall what I needed the most: an exit to the next room. Room seven was close. I knew the demon was right behind me, but for some reason it couldn't touch me. I closed my eyes and placed both hooves on the large seven in front of me. I pushed. I pushed as hard as I could. The demon was now screaming in my ear. It told me I was never leaving. It told me that this was the end but I wasn't going to die; I was going to live there in room six with it. I wasn't. I pushed and screamed at the top of my lungs. I knew I was going to push through the wall eventually.

I clenched my eyes shut and screamed, and the demon was gone. I was left in silence. I turned around slowly and was greeted by the room as it was when I entered: just a chair and a lamp. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't have time to well. I turned back to the seven and jumped back slightly. What I saw was a door. It wasn't the one I had scratched in, but a regular door with a large seven on it. My whole body was shaking. It took me a while to turn the knob. I just stood there for a while, staring at the door. I couldn't stay in room six. I couldn't. But if this was only room six, I couldn't imagine was seven had in store. I must have stood there for an hour, just staring at the seven. Finally, with a deep breath, I twisted the knob and opened the door to room seven.

I stumbled through the door mentally exhausted and physically weak. The door behind me closed and I realized where I was. I was outside. Not outside like room five, but actually outside. My eyes stung. I wanted to cry. I fell to the ground and tried but I couldn't. I was finally out of that Tartarus. I didn't even care about the prize that was promised. I turned and saw that the door I just went through was the entrance. I walked to my car and drove home, thinking of how nice a shower sounded.

As I walked into my house, I felt uneasy. The joy of leaving NoEnd House had faded and dread was slowly building in my stomach. I shook it off as residual from the house and made my way to the front door. I entered and immediately went up to my room. There on my bed was my cat, Baskerville. He was the first living thing I had seen all night and I reached to pet him. He hissed and swiped at my hand. I recoiled in shock, as he had never acted like that. I thought, "Whatever, he's an old cat." I jumped in the shower and got ready for what I was expecting to be a sleepless night.

After my shower, I went to the kitchen to make something to eat. I descended the stairs and turned into the family room; what I saw would be forever burned into my mind, however. My parents were lying on the ground, naked and covered in blood. They were mutilated to near-unidentifiable states. Their limbs were removed and placed next to their bodies, and their heads were placed on their chests facing me. The most unsettling part was their expressions. They were smiling, as though they were happy to see me. I vomited and sobbed there in the family room. I didn't know what had happened; they didn't even live with me at the time. I was a mess. Then I saw it: a door that was never there before. A door with a large eight scrawled on it in blood.

I was still in the house. I was standing in my family room but I was in room seven. The faces of my parents smiled wider as I realized this. They weren't my parents; they couldn't be, but they looked exactly like them. The door marked eight was across the room, behind the mutilated bodies in front of me. I knew I had to move on, but at that moment I gave up. The smiling faces tore into my mind; they grounded me where I stood. I vomited again and nearly collapsed. Then the hum returned. It was louder than ever and it filled the house and shook the walls. The hum compelled me to walk.

I began to walk slowly, making my way closer to the door and the bodies. I could barely stand, let alone walk, and the closer I got to my parents the closer I came to suicide. The walls were now shaking so hard it seemed as though they were going to crumble, but still the faces smiled at me. As I inched closer, their eyes followed me. I was now between the two bodies, a few feet away from the door. The dismembered hooves clawed their way across the carpet towards me, all while the faces continued to stare. New terror washed over me and I walked faster. I didn't want to hear them speak. I didn't want the voices to match those of my parents. They began to open their mouths and the hooves were inches from my feet. In a dash of desperation, I lunged toward the door, threw it open, and slammed it behind me. Room eight.

I was done. After what I had just experienced, I knew there wasn't anything else this bucking house could throw at me that I couldn't live through. There was nothing short of the fires of Tartarus that I wasn't ready for. Unfortunately, I underestimated the abilities of NoEnd House. Unfortunately, things got more disturbing, more terrifying, and more unspeakable in room eight.

I still have trouble believing what I saw in room eight. Again, the room was a carbon copy of rooms three and six, but sitting in the usually empty chair was a stallion. After a few seconds of disbelief, my mind finally accepted the fact that the man sitting in the chair was me. Not somepony who looked like me; it was Felix. I walked closer. I had to get a better look even though I was sure of it. He looked up at me and I noticed tears in his eyes.

"Please... please, don't do it. Please, don't hurt me."

"What?" I asked. "Who are you? I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yes you are..." He was sobbing now. "You're going to hurt me and I don't want you to." He sat in the chair with his legs up and began rocking back and forth. It was actually pretty pathetic looking, especially since he was me, identical in every way.

"Listen, who are you?" I was now only a few feet from my doppelgänger. It was the weirdest experience yet, standing there talking to myself. I wasn't scared, but I would be soon. "Why are you-"

"You're going to hurt me you're going to hurt me if you want to leave you're going to hurt me."

"Why are you saying this? Just calm down, alright? Let's try and figure this-" And then I saw it. The Felix sitting down was wearing the same clothes as me, except for a small red patch on his shirt embroidered with the number nine.

"You're going to hurt me you're going to hurt me don't please you're going to hurt me..."

My eyes didn't leave that small number on his chest. I knew exactly what it was. The first few doors were plain and simple, but after a while they got a little more ambiguous. Seven was pounded into the wall, but by my own hooves. Eight was marked in blood above the bodies of my parents. But nine - this number was on a pony, a living pony. Worse still, it was on a pony that looked exactly like me.

"Felix?" I had to ask.

"Yes... you're going to hurt me you're going to hurt me..." He continued to sob and rock.

He answered to Felix. He was me, right down to the voice. But that nine. I paced around for a few minutes while he sobbed in his chair. The room had no door and, similarly to room six, the door I came through was gone. For some reason, I assumed that scratching would get me nowhere this time. I studied the walls and floor around the chair, sticking my head underneath and seeing if anything was below. Unfortunately, there was. Below the chair was a knife. Attached was a tag that read, "To Felix - From Management."

The feeling in my stomach as I read that tag was something sinister. I wanted to throw up and the last thing I wanted to do was remove that knife from under that chair. The other Felix was still sobbing uncontrollably. My mind was spinning into an attic of unanswerable questions. Who put this here and how did they get my name? Not to mention the fact that as I knelt on the cold wood floor I also sat in that chair, sobbing in protest of being hurt by myself. It was all too much to process. The house and the management had been playing with me this whole time. My thoughts for some reason turned to Onyx and whether or not he got this far. If he did, if he met a Onyx Masquerade sobbing in this very chair, rocking back and forth... I shook those thoughts out of my head; they didn't matter. I took the knife from under the chair and immediately the other Felix went quiet.

"Felix," He said in my voice, "What do you think you're going to do?"

I lifted myself from the ground and clenched the knife in my hoof.

"I'm going to get out of here."

Felix was still sitting in the chair, though he was very calm now. He looked up at me with a slight grin. I couldn't tell if he was going to laugh or strangle me. Slowly, he got up from the chair and stood, facing me. It was uncanny. His height and even the way he stood matched mine. I felt the rubber hilt of the knife in my hand and gripped it tighter. I don't know what I was planning on doing with it, but I had a feeling I was going to need it.

"Now," his voice was slightly deeper than my own. "I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to hurt you and I'm going to keep you here." I didn't respond. I just lunged and tackled him to the ground. I had mounted him and looked down, knife poised and ready. He looked up at me, terrified. It was like I was looking in a mirror. Then the hum returned, low and distant, though I still felt it deep in my body. Felix looked up at me as I looked down at myself. The hum was getting louder and I felt something inside me snap. With one motion, I slammed the knife into the patch on his chest and ripped down. Blackness fell on the room and I was falling.

The darkness around me was like nothing I had experienced up to that point. Room four was dark, but it didn't come close to what was completely engulfing me. I wasn't even sure if I was falling after a while. I felt weightless, covered in dark. Then a deep sadness came over me. I felt lost, depressed, and suicidal. The sight of my parents entered my mind. I knew it wasn't real, but I had seen it and the mind has trouble differentiating between what is real and what isn't. The sadness only deepened. I was in room nine for what seemed like days. The final room. And that's exactly what it was: the end. NoEnd House had an end and I had reached it. At that moment, I gave up. I knew I would be in that in-between state forever, accompanied by nothing but darkness. Not even the hum was there to keep me sane.

I had lost all senses. I couldn't feel myself. I couldn't hear anything. Sight was completely useless here. I searched for a taste in my mouth and found nothing. I felt disembodied and completely lost. I knew where I was. This was Tartarus. Room nine was Tartarus. Then it happened. A light. One of those stereotypical lights at the end of the tunnel. I felt ground come up from below me and I was standing. After a moment or two of gathering my thoughts and senses, I slowly walked toward that light.

As I approached the light, it took form. It was a vertical slit down the side of an unmarked door. I slowly walked through the door and found myself back where I started: the lobby of NoEnd House. It was exactly how I left it: still empty, still decorated with childish Halloween decorations. After everything that had happened that night, I was still wary of where I was. After a few moments of normalcy, I looked around the place trying to find anything different. On the desk was a plain white envelope with my name handwritten on it. Immensely curious, yet still cautious, I mustered up the courage to open the envelope. Inside was a letter, again hoofwritten.

Felix,

Congratulations! You have made it to the end of NoEnd House! Please accept this prize as a token of great achievement.

Yours forever,

Management.

With the letter was a bit worth 5000 bits.

I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed for what seemed like hours. I laughed as I walked out to my car and laughed as I drove home. I laughed as I pulled into my driveway. I laughed as I opened my front door to my house and laughed as I saw the small ten etched into the wood.

NoEnd House ll: Belle

It had been three weeks since I heard any word from Felix. In the six months since we started dating we had only gone three days without talking, and that was after a pretty intense fight. There was nothing out of the ordinary when I had talk to him last, he had just mentioned that he was going to check something out a friend told him about. But then I got a really weird letter the night before. It was from Felix, but it wasn’t from his address. It only had five words in it:

“no end dont come felix”

Something was wrong. After I read that text I felt nauseous, like I was seeing something I shouldn’t. I decided to get a hold of Onyx, but I had talked to this flank before. He was a deadbeat, but at least he might have some information on where Felix might be. I decided to write to Felix. I figured it would be easier to start something with Onyx if he didn’t know it was me.  Not ten seconds after I wrote to him, a letter appeared out of nowhere.

“Felix?! Holy shit you had me worried I thought you went to the house.”

“What do you mean?”

“NoEnd House, that place I told you about I could have sworn you were gonna go.” NoEnd. This guy knew what was going on.

“Yeah, I actually couldn’t find it. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. Where was it again?”

“No way, you already had me worried buck that place I’ve been there you do not want to go there.”

“Onyx. This is Belle.”

“Wait what? Where’s Felix?”

“I don’t know, I thought you would know but apparently not.”

“Oh shit. Oh shitshitshitshit.”

“What? Seriously Onyx you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I think he went to the house. It’s outside of down, maybe four miles down Terrence St. Unmarked road turn right. Shit, he’s gone.”

“No, I don’t think he is.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

“I’m going to get him back”


I left the next night at around eight. There wasn’t a single other cart the entire trip, and as I turned onto the unmarked street I saw a sign pointing down the road:


NoEnd this way

Open 24hrs

My breathing hadn’t been steady since I left my house, and seeing the house didn’t help anything. There weren’t any other ponies anywhere, which made me think that it wasn’t open. A light from the front stoop illuminated the area surrounding, and the windows showed that lights were on inside. I walked up to the front and made my way in.

The front lobby was normal enough, but like I predicted there wasn’t anypony there. All the lights were on, but no one was there. Besides the door I came through, there was only one other. Posted next to it was another sign:

“Room 1 this way. Eight more follow. Reach the end and you win!”

That wasn’t what made my stomach sink. That wasn’t what stopped my heart. There was more below, scrawled and hoofwritten in red:

You won’t save him.

I must have stood in the lobby for an hour. I was frozen. I didn’t know how to go on. Did I go through the door? Did I call the police? After reading the sign I decided that I may have bit off more than I could chew. I’m average height for a filly, but pretty thin. I wasn’t about to fight off some psycho that was holding Felix hostage. I decided calling the cops was the best thing to do, so I reached into my pocket and opened my phone to call. No service. The house must be blocking the signal, and it was basically in the middle of nowhere. I walked towards the entrance, figuring I’d find service outside. I reached to the knob and twisted, and nothing. It was locked. I shook it harder. Nothing. It was locked from the outside. I slammed my hooves against the door and called out to anypony that could hear me. I knew it was useless, no pony was out here except me. Then a letter came out of nowhere.  It was so simple, but it couldn’t have been any more terrifying.

“You can’t save yourself either.”

My entire body was shaking. I wanted to pass out. I was stuck there. In a room with no exit. My eyes scanned the room, and landed on the door across the room. A gold ‘1’ was mounted on the front, it looked like a room door in a hotel. The ground felt far away as I walked closer to the door. In a few moments I was within inches, and I placed my head against the wood and listened. All I heard was distant Nightmare Night music. Just creepy instrumental music you’d hear at any haunted house. Suddenly I got a little calmer. Felix was always known for his pranks. He would tell me about these elaborate set ups he and his friends would make for the new players on their hoof-ball team. Somehow a smile found its way onto my face, and I opened the door without fear.

Entering the first room alleviated my fears even more. The room was a completely normal attempt at a haunted house, though rather lacking. In each corner was a scarecrow, but not even scary ones. They were the kind you used to see in grade school, with the big smiling faces. Paper ghosts hung from the ceiling, and a fan in the corner added a cold breeze that made them spin. Next to one of the scarecrows was again the only other door in the room. Printed on the front, similar to the first door, was a large ‘2’. I laughed and left this lame room behind me.

When I opened the door to room 2 I couldn’t see three hooves in front of me. It was completely filled with a gray mist that smelled like rubber. I guessed there had to be some fog machine in here, and it must have been pumping this stuff for hours. There were no windows in the last room, so the ventilation must have been terrible. I walked slowly forward and let out a small shriek. I had bumped straight into a large robotic knife wielding murderer. His eyes flashed red and the knife in his hoof went up and down in a jerky stabbing motion. My heart was racing, and if anypony was with me I would have felt incredibly embarrassed. I covered my mouth and made my way past the thing, the fog was getting to be a little much. I was beginning to feel light headed as I found the door to room 3. I placed my hoof to the knob and jerked it back in pain. The knob was extremely hot. I placed my hoof on the door itself and felt that it too was warm. I couldn’t hear anything from the other side, I put my ear up to the warm wood expecting to hear a fire and heard nothing. I assumed that it was just a warm, like they were pumping heat into it like the final room in the Mr Toads Wild Ride at Disneyland. I grabbed the doorknob as fast as I could and I flung myself into Room 3. There was no fire. Just darkness, and it was freezing cold. Room 3 wasn’t like the other rooms. It wasn’t like the other rooms at all.

At that moment I knew that something wasn’t right. I tried to make out anything in the room but I couldn’t even see my hands grasping for the doorknob that now wasn’t there. I was trapped. I must have been turned around in the darkness, even though I didn’t move once I entered I must have gotten turned around in all this darkness. At that moment a light on the ceiling flashed on. A single spotlight pointing directly down, illuminating a small table, and on this small table was a flashlight. Even though I couldn’t really see where I was going I moved forward, the light on the ceiling was enough to make my way to the table. As I reached for the flashlight I noticed a small tag attached to the handle:

To Belle – From Management

The moment I finished reading the light above me turned off, and I was again left in the dark. I fumbled with the flashlight for a second before I was able to turn it on. From what seemed like every direction, a low and rumbling hum surrounded me. My heart was pounding and I started to spin in place, darting the beam of the flashlight all around me. There was nothing in the room, but after a while I noticed something terrifying. It could have been my imagination, but I could see a figure dart away at the last second wherever the beam of light hit. I began to panic. I started backing away from the small table, unsure which direction I was going. The hum was getting louder, and then I starting feel the presence of whatever it was that was dodging the light. My hooves shook wildly as I frantically shined the light in whatever direction I could think of. It was always there, just barely escaping back into the darkness every time. But it was getting closer. My eyes started to well up with tears. I thought I was going to drop the flashlight I was shaking so badly, until I saw it. The light set directly on a small number ‘4’. It was written on a piece of paper and taped to a wooden door in the corner. I ran. I ran as fast as I could with the flashlight pointed directly in front of me. I could feel it behind me. The hum was getting louder and I thought I felt its breath on my neck. I was sprinting at this point, only a few more steps to go. In one motion I grabbed the handle, twisted and slammed it shut behind me. I was now in the fourth room.

I was outside. I wasn’t in the house anymore. What awaited me after opening the door to room 4 was what looked like a cave. I looked down to the ground, and I noticed something strange and disturbing. The ground wasn’t made of grass or rock or dirt, it was wood paneling. It was the same floor as in the previous rooms. This was room 4. Somehow I was still in that house. There were a few torches mounted to the side of the rock surrounding me, and the cave beyond was pitch black. The torches looked like they could be taken down, so I walked over to the closest one and unsheathed it from its mounting piece. My body was covered in sweat, and I slowly made my way into the cave. The hum was gone, hopefully for good. No other noise met me inside the cave, but there was a slight breeze. The cave seemed to go on forever, and I was walking for what felt like hours, until I saw a faint blue light. I walked toward it, cautiously but at a decent pace. The light was an opening, the end of the tunnel. I started walking a little faster, I always hated cramped spaces like caves and tunnels. In a few moments the exit was right in front of me, and before I knew it I was at the end. And that’s exactly where I was. The end. At the exit of the cave, the ground dropped off to a cliff, and there was no other way to go. I looked back into the dark cave behind me. I knew there wasn’t any turns, it was a straight tunnel. I turned and looked down over the edge. What I saw made my stomach turn worse than it ever did before. What I saw was an ocean, water all around with nothing else in sight. The drop must have been a hundred hoof, with a small rock formation at the bottom. After a few seconds of studying the rocks, my stomach turned more than I thought possible, and my body broke into a fresh sweat. The rocks formed a number. The rocks formed a ‘5’.

I stood up and backed away from the edge. I hated heights. I was stopped by a wall that shouldn’t have been there. I turned around and was met with a terrifying sight. The cave was gone. I was face to face with a solid stone wall, the side of whatever mountain this was. I had to keep telling myself I was still in the NoEnd House. I didn’t leave. Clearly this isn’t an actual mountain. But it felt so real. I turned back and looked over the cliff again. There was no way. This house has been pretty messed up before now. I was outside for god’s sake. But what it expected me to do now was just too much. I knew what those rocks down there meant. That was the entrance to room 5. There was no stairs leading down, no other paths to use. I was trapped, again. The house wanted me to jump. The house wanted me to jump. I sank to the ground and curled into a ball. I couldn’t do it. There was no way I could jump off a cliff onto a jagged rock formation a hundred feet below. My mind was split in two. I knew that I was still inside, but my surroundings screamed in my ear the opposite. I stayed there on the wooden ground for a while, at that point I had lost all concept of time. After what seemed like weeks I finally stood up. Slowly I made my way to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The giant ‘5’ taunted me to jump. It knew I couldn’t do it and it taunted me. And then the hum returned, the low and distant hum. It seemed to come from behind me, resonating within the mountain. I don’t know what came over me, but after hearing that sound, something inside me lit up. I clenched my eyes shut, and I jumped.

The wind was rushing up as I fell, and a deep fear washed over me. I was going to die. I was going to smash into those rocks and die. They were going to tear me apart and I was going to die. I didn’t dare open my eyes, I just fell. Even with the loud wind around me, the hum was now deafening. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted it to be over I just wanted to hit the rocks and I wanted it to be over-

And then I stopped. I wasn’t falling anymore, but I never hit the rocks. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was standing on the familiar wood paneling of the house. The hum was gone, and silence took its place. I had made it. I was in room 5. I don’t know how it happened, but I was in room 5. The feeling of dread was gone, I was just incredibly happy to be alive. After a few moments to collect myself I decided to look around at the rest of the room. My happiness left me fast. This room was empty. The walls matched the floor, and the ceiling matched the walls and the walls had no doors or windows. I was in a sealed box. Then I realized I didn’t make it. I wasn’t safe. I had made it out of the fourth room, but only to enter room 5, and there was no leaving it.

At that moment I wondered if Felix had been in this room. I wondered if he had jumped off that hundred-hoof cliff and ended up stuck in the room. And if he did, that means he got out. He wasn’t here, I was alone. He got out, and I would too. The thought of Felix escaping this room gave me new found confidence, and a second wind filled my spirit. I was going to get out of this room, find Felix, and get us the hay out of here. I walked around the perimeter of the wall and felt for any sort of inconsistencies. Nothing. The walls were flawless, barely a scratch on them let alone some secret exit. I started to knock at random places on the walls. They were completely solid. The confidence started to leave me. I was running out of ideas. And that’s when she spoke to me.

"Belle. You shouldn’t have come here, Belle.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin if that was possible. I was still facing the wall, and the voice had come from the middle of the room. The voice was that of a little filly, at least that’s what it sounded like, and I turned around slowly, and my eyes fell on who spoke to me. I was right, a little blond filly, no more than seven years old with light blue eyes and a long white dress. She smiled at me and spoke again.

“But now that you’re here, let’s play a game.”

There was something horrifying about that little girl. She wasn’t scary like those horror girls are in those Japonyese movies. She looked completely normal. If I saw her walking down the street I would have just walked right on by. But looking into her eyes, I felt complete terror. Jumping off of a cliff was scary, but I wouldn’t jump off twenty cliffs twice as high if it meant I could take back one minute of looking into her soulless eyes. After a moment of staring, I finally spoke.

“What game? Who are you?” I mumbled.

“If you lose, you die.”

“If I win?”

“He dies.”

My heart sank somewhere below my hooves. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I knew she was telling the truth.

“Which will it be?” She smiled.

“Neither.” I don’t know where I found the courage to talk back to this demon foal, but I had come to far to just let Felix die. And if I died, this was all for nothing. No, I chose neither. But then I saw it. The reason the little girl terrified me. She was more than just a small child. Looking at her, I also saw what appeared to be a large stallion, covered in air, with the head of a ram. It was a horrible sight. I couldn’t see one without seeing the other. The little girl stood in front of me, but I knew her true form. It was the worst sight I had ever seen.

“Too bad.” And with that she was gone. I was alone again, in an empty and silent room. Only this time something was added. A small table where she stood appeared from no where, as though it was there the whole time. There was something on it, but I couldn’t tell from where I was. I walked up to the table and looked at the small object. It was a small razor, like one you would find in an exacto knife. I reached out to pick it up and as I did a scream left my mouth. When my hoof came into view, I saw something that was never there before. It looked as though something was branded into my skin, a single number 6. I looked back to the razor and noticed the tag attached to it:

To Belle– From Management

*thought you may need this*

After reading the note, I started sobbing uncontrollably. Tears were rushing down my face harder than they ever have I my life. I had never cried like that, and don’t think I ever will. I fell to the ground and sunk my head into the hard wood floor. I was sobbing for hours, just lying there on the ground. And then the crying stopped, and depression set in. I don’t even know why I was crying. It wasn’t about Felix, it wasn’t even about how I was stuck there. There were still no doors in this room, I was still trapped. But that’s not why I was sad. I was in the deepest depression possible. Complete and emotionless depression. I felt empty, and clawed my way up from the ground and steadied myself against the table. My eyes fell on the razor, and I picked it up. I was going to kill myself. I couldn’t handle it any more. I had had it. Felix was probably dead. I was trapped in here. It was over. I pressed the razor against my wrist, right above the 6 that had appeared on my skin. The sobbing came back, and I just stood there, crying with the razor pressed against my wrist. Felix was dead, I was about to die. Nothing mattered anymore, and with one deep cut, I sliced down my wrist.

Immediately after slicing down my wrist I was no longer in room 5. I didn’t die, I knew that for sure. The depression was gone, but I was by no means happy. Tears were still finding their way down my face. The room I was in was similar to the one previous, and again, it had no doors. There wasn’t any lamps, but somehow I was still able to see everything clearly. The room was completely empty, but before I had time to think of what to do next it went dark, and the hum from before returned. I covered my ears in protest, it was louder than it ever was. But it was over in a moment, and the lights returned, only this time something was added to the room. And then I screamed. There in the middle of the room, strung up by chains and naked from the waist up was Felix. It looked like he was tortured, knife wounds littered his chest and hooves.

“FELIX!” I ran up to him as fast as I could. He was conscious, I saw his chest move up and down, but he wasn’t speaking. And that’s when I noticed what was etched into his chest. A dropped to my haunches as I saw it. The 7 stared at me as though it had eyes.

I heard Felix try and speak, and I got to my hooves and got as close as I could to him.

“Felix! Felix can you hear me?!”

“Belle…what’re you…what’re you doing here?” His voice was slight, but he was talking, and I was thankful for that.

“Felix I’m trying to save you. How do I get you down?” There were large padlocks on the chains holding him in place. I looked around the room for any sort of key, but all I found was a small knife in one of the corners. The metal was way too thick for that knife to even dent it, so I disregarded it as useless. I went back to Felix, it looked like he was on the verge of death. And then another letter appeared right in front of me. It startled me something awful, and I took the letter from the ground.

“That isn’t me.”

I didn’t know what to think. Felix was right there in front of me, but that letter was from the first pony who contacted me. It as the first letter I received from Felix that mentioned the NoEnd House.

“Belle…” I heard his voice clearly with my ears and my mind. It seemed like his voice was coming from all sides. “Felix…You have to go on.”

“What are you talking about? How?” I was face to face with Felix, or whoever it was that was chained up here.

“That knife…” he made a slight movement of his head toward the corner. “Go get it.” I ran and was immediately back with the knife clenched in hoof within a few seconds. I had no idea what was going on, but I needed to save him and would do anythi-

“Now stab me in the chest.”

“…what?” I was shocked. Felix hung there, staring directly into my eyes.

“You have to run that knife through the seven on my chest. It’s the only way to save us both.”

“No…” I stumbled backward. “No, you’re not making any sense.”

“Belle!” He was screaming now, his eyes looked frantic. The side of his mouth curled into a twisted grin. “Belle stab me now it’s the only way!” I looked down at the knife in my hand, my head felt as though it was being struck with a bat. I was at a complete loss. I clenched my eyes shut tight and felt the knife in my hoof.

“BELLE!” And with a scream and a thrust I stabbed the knife into Felix's chest. I don’t know what came over me, I just knew it was the only way. I opened my eyes and saw his face. It was terrified. Tears slid down his cheeks and Felix looked me in the eyes.

“Why…did you…do that…?”

He couldn’t fool me. I know that wasn’t Felix . It couldn’t have been, or else I wouldn’t have been able to stab him. I know it wasn’t I know it wasn’t. His eyes rolled back as the life left him, but that’s when it changed. The seven on his body was gone, the blood dripped down onto the ground into a pool below me. The crimson liquid stretched out in every direction, the circle nearly filled the room, and I began to sink. I tried to move but I couldn’t. It was like quick sand. The blood was up to my knees now. As much as I tried to struggle I just sank deeper. Up to my chest now. I clawed and scratched at the wood around me. The lifeless body of Felix hung above, his head facing me, smiling. The blood reached my neck. I was beyond terrified. Before long I was full submerged, and fell into darkness.

When I woke up, I was outside the house. I could feel the cold earth below me. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the night sky. The NoEnd House towered above me. I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or cry. I was out. I was out I was out I was out. I got up and dusted myself off. My body was still shaking as I walked to my car, but a feeling of uneasiness washed over me. There was no way I escaped. The house wouldn’t just let me go. Something wasn’t right. I knew it. I knew I didn’t kill Felix in the sixth room. I knew I didn’t. But he was no where to be found.  There was the paper on the porch, right where I left it.  I had a quill on me, so I wrote to Felix on that same paper.

“Where are you?” I wrote. Within a second of sending it I got a reply. I opened it up with excitement.

“room 10 your room 7 run.” and the deafening hum returned.

I bolted. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I wasn’t outside. I was still in the house. The hum rattled everything around me. It shook the trees and the air itself. I just needed to find an 8. I needed to find the next room. That was my only chance. I needed to find room 8. The first few rooms were obvious, but as I progressed it was getting less and less clear where the rooms started and ended. I had no idea what I was looking for, anything that had a number on it. I needed to find an 8 I needed to find an 8 I needed to find-

Another letter.

“your address”

What the hay did he mean? My address? I slid the phone back in my pocket, the hum was growing louder and louder. And that’s when it hit me. My address. My address. My address. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

4896 Forest ln.

Unit #8

I bolted from the house as fast as I could. The hum seemed to follow me. Nopony else was in sight.  I still ran as fast as I could.

None of this was making sense. How was room 8 my apartment? Should I have even trusted that letter? It was from Felix. I know it was. There was no reason not to trust it. It took no time at all to run to my complex, and honestly I didn’t even remember running. It was like when you zone out for a minute and wake up farther down the road. My hooves fumbled with the keys as I unlocked the bolt and made my way into the first hallway on the left. My complex was huge, but my apartment was one of the first ones on the left. I ran as fast as I could, passed 4, passed 5. My head was spinning, this night was weighing down on me like a lead vest. Passed 6. The farther I made it down the hallway, the farther away the hum seemed to be. As I passed unit 7 I could barely hear it anymore. And when I stopped in front of my unit I was in complete silence. I just stood there, standing in front of my apartment. The small gold ‘8’ was at eye level with me. I reached for the doorknob and slowly slid my key in, twisted, and the door swung open and I was sucked in like a vacuum, the door slamming behind me.

Room 8. I got up off the floor and looked around. It was identical to my apartment. If I didn’t know any better I would have assumed that I was home and that this was a bad dream. My mind went to Felix, and wondered what room 8 was to him, what it was that the house showed him. I walked around and studied the area. Literally everything was how I left it, right down to the half eaten Hay burger left out next to the sink. I looked over at my computer desk in the family room. The letters from Onyx were still there. I looked through my conversation with Onyx. It was there, word for word. The house knew all of this, and how I had no idea. To be honest, I tried my hardest not to think about it, the answer no doubt something I was better off not knowing. I tried to get up, but I couldn't.  My body wouldn't move, it was like it was glued to the chair.  Then everything suddenly went dark.  An image, like a movie projector flashed in front of me. The projection was live and all it showed was a grey wall. There was suddenly a letter that popped up next to me. "This is managent"

“Hope everything is how you left it :)”

“Who are you?” I said out loud.

“Enjoy the show :)” And that’s when the projection changed. The projection focused on a young stallion strapped to a surgical table. He was sobbing quietly to himself. The image wasn’t that clear, but I thought I had recognized the stallion laying there. He was tall, short brown hair, orange body, and a sickly complexion.

“This is what happens when people attempt to cheat :)”

That’s when I realized who it was. Strapped to the surgical table was Onyx Masquerade. And he wasn’t alone.

I don’t want to describe what I watched at that moment. The screams, the sounds that Onyx made were unlike anything I ever heard out of a pony. I couldn’t look away. I wanted to, but I think it was the power of the room, I couldn’t look away. Onyx let out one final soul curdling scream, but I didn’t hear it through the projection, it was coming from my room. My heart sank as I spun around towards the hallway. I got up off my chair, and I could still hear the screams emanating as I walked toward its source. I reached my bedroom door and the screams were now replaced by the hum. That hum. It had haunted me the entire time. I slowly opened the door, and I saw inside my room what I had seen on my computer. There was the surgical table, with whatever was left of Onyx Masquerade strewn across its top. No pony else was there. The others in the room were gone, but a chill went up my spin. The Management was here with me, only one room away. I walked closer to the table, the stench was horrific, and it took everything in me to stop from vomiting. I knew I was nearing the end. I had to be. I looked around the room. Somewhere in here was the entrance to the next room. I knew it had to be. And it was. But it was simpler than I had expected. Across the room, where my bathroom door should have been was a simple wooden door, similar to the early ones in the House. Something was stapled to the door, something long, and bloody. It was the entrails of Onyx Masquerade, and they formed a 9 on the door.

I felt bad for Onyx, but I had gone through Tartarus that night. I walked right passed the table, picked up a long surgical knife and didn’t give the body a second glance. The final door was there, and I walked right up to it. This night was about to end, and I was coming out of that room with Felix, and I was going to stop whoever it was that was keeping him here. The door opened easily, and as I stepped through I saw what was waiting for me. It was an empty room, it resembled a waiting room for a doctor’s office. There were a few chairs lining the wall and crumpled up old magazines in a basket in the corner. Across the room on the opposite side from where I came in, there stood a single door. My heart sank when I read the label printed on the wood. It wasn’t a number. It was a single word.

MANAGEMENT

I clenched the surgical knife in my hoof.

“Alright, I’m bucking ending this.”

They were on the other side of the door. I could feel it. And Felix was too. The hum was louder than it had ever been. I could feel it inside me. It was coming from inside me. As I walked it got louder, and as I placed a hoof on the door the room was filled with the sound. I turned the knob and opened the door. The room waiting for me was not what I had expected. It was the front lobby. The same front lobby that began this entire Tartarus. Only this time, there was somepony behind the desk. My heart jumped out of my chest when I saw who it was. It was Onyx Masquerade.

“Hello Belle.”

“Onyx?” No, there was no way. “How? What?”

“Who were you expecting? A ghost? Tirek? Some creepy little blond filly?” He was smiling. I wasn’t.

“What the hay is going on here?”

“Belle. Come on. Just think for two seconds. Who first told Felix about this place?”

“You...didn’t…”

“Who told you about Felix's whereabouts here?”

“Celestiadammit Onyx you were his friend!”

“I’m sorry Belle, but that’s how we run business here.”

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?!”

“He’s in the here with us in the House, Belle. And he isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you.” I don’t know what took over me, but I lost it. I jumped over the counter and shoved Onyx to the ground. I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the ground, the surgical knife in my other hoof pressed firmly against his neck. I wanted to kill him. I had to kill him. He killed Felix. He wasn’t killing me.

“Belle, you can’t. There’s always going to be someone to run the House.”

“No.” I slid the knife across his throat and slammed his head further into the ground. “I don’t think there will be.” With his death the room went dark. I could still feel the surgical knife, but I was no longer holding on to Onyx hair. I don’t know for how long I was in the darkness, but it felt like ages. I stood and felt for the desk, balancing myself with one hoof on the side of the marble surface. Then the lights came on. I could see the windows across the room, it was still night out. I looked out and saw him. Felix was walking around outside, seemingly unharmed. I ran to the door and tried to open it. I was so happy. But the door wouldn’t budge. I tried my hardest, but the door wouldn’t let me out. I looked out the window and saw Felix as he began to walk down the dirt road. I rested my head against the door and saw it. My stomach lurched hard. There, pinned to my chest was a name tag, with one word:

MANAGEMENT

Lost Episodes

Twilight again, submitting once more to the writers of Creepyponies: Chilling Tales Submitted by You. Don't let that get you thinking this isn't true though. Now, I don't want to burst anypony's bubble here. So, if you believe in those lost tape urban legends and enjoy living in that world, maybe this isn't for you. Don't get me wrong, I hate it when ponies complain about the "Lack of realism" in youth entertainment. I also believe that foals should believe in things like Hearth Warmer for as long as the world permits, but this, this is different.

Now back in my teen years, when my apprenticeship with Celestia had just started to feel like a more advanced version of a standard school, I met a stallion. His name was Cutboard. He used to cut and edit old VHS tapes. It was his passion. His parents were very rich, richer than mine in fact. He sat around his house cutting tapes, almost never getting any sleep. I'm pretty sure he was autistic, now that I think about it.

It all started when he saw the movie "Tulips and Blackberries" as a colt. If you haven't heard of it, it's a sad and ever-so-slightly psychologically mind-bending movie. To summarize, A filly finds an enchanted rose petal that makes her see the world as though it is out to get her. Basically, I have no idea how his parents let him watch that. I'm about to spoil the ending but it's important. In the end the filly dies of starvation cowering in her basement as she thinks her mother is trying to poison her. So what does this have to do with anything?

Well, Cutboard didn't like the ending. His dad was a wedding photographer and recorder so he showed his son how to operate some of his machines. So Cutboard cut out the ending, replacing it with a happier scene from early in the movie. He watch this tape obsessively, and even into his early teens. He made me watch it. I could picture him as a colt cheering as he made it the way he wanted. I'll admit I was kind of being a bad influence, but I asked if he could do it with other movies. He told me that yes, he could do it with any film. I guess in the time of black and white this seemed a lot more special than nowadays.

Over time, I encouraged him to edit more films, just with different purpose. Instead of whitewashing the scary stuff, I got him to see the full potential of his talent. This went on for a while before I lost interest. It seemed less interesting to me as I was taking my training up a few notches to things that were pretty advanced for someone as young as I was. Meanwhile, he just got more and more involved with the cutting of these tapes. I think his favorites were shows for foals and when Household Times came around, he went crazy. Now it wasn't so much about fixing tapes as it was breaking them in interesting ways. One that sticks out is when he merged an episode of Around The Campfire with a gory old war movie. The camp gets bombed, soldiers invade and everypony dies. He had completely revised his interest and embraced what terrified him. He seemed to be in love with drawn-out sequences with chilling silence. He'd even make me be quiet if one of those scenes was playing.

Now you may have heard of Modern Art. He's a well-known hit-and-run graffiti artist. He sometimes also slips fake tapes into the aisles of music stores. Modern Art had nothing on Cutboard. He would always tell me about how he would swap tapes with his at rental stores, he would then start from scratch with the ones he stole. I tried to get him to stop, but he persisted.

At one point, I hadn't seen him in a while, so I stopped by his parent's house. He was in the storage room. He had set up his own little movie studio, complete with a drawing board. He was actually animating entirely new content. I was blown away by this art skill of his that I hadn't seen until now. I was very concerned. When was he gonna come out of this dark place and start acting normally. Although I might not be the best to comment on that, at least not at the time. So I asked what any foal in their late teens would ask.

"Hey, what's going on with you?"

"Huh?" was his response.

"Some of this is... terrifying."

"It's work, Twilight. I'm working uh... just like anypony else would"

"Are you even selling these anymore, or do you just sneak them into shops? What's this costing your father?"

"Hm... Don't care" I took a glance at what he was drawing.

"Is that a headless body dancing?"

"Yep."

"That's... pretty dark."

"Yeah, I know. That's the point."

"I don't get it."

"Those tapes?" He said, seemingly answering a different question. "Yeah I thought they were wrong but, now that I've had time to think about it, I figured out the truth"

"Uh... Which is?"

"That scary stuff, it's right. Happy endings are the true lie!" I just stood there as he kept drawing, and I could smell sweat coming off of him. Ugh! It wasn't just sweat, but the stench of a moldy, foul jacket. I gave up after that. You know when you look at somepony and realize that they've changed completely and all you can think is "I never thought they were this far gone."

It wasn't until I had lived in Ponyville for 6 years that Cutboard crossed my mind again. I was reading the lost episode collection release of Creepyponies: Chilling Tales Submitted by You. The thing is that I recognized a few of them. I had watched them with Cutboard, and even seen him make a couple. Every unbelievable word, and I believed it because I had seen it for myself. Things like Friendship is Magic: A Documentary (Which I had been in) hadn't come around until long after I made my break with Cutboard, but the style was all to familiar. Even the ones that didn't sound like his work could've been attempts at mimicking his work. He was still doing it!

I called Cutboard's old number. Same as television, telephones had only started to become household in our late teens. It had been a long time, and I was not entirely sure he'd still be living there. It rang for minutes on end and I knew that the search had been worthless. I made it a point to check out his old place, to see if he was still in the storage room, cutting tapes.

I boarded the train for Canterlot the next morning. When I arrived at his house, it was a shell of what it had once been. It was a complete husk with it's peeling paint, crawling vines and shutters just barely hanging on. I wondered why it hadn't been demolished yet. All signs pointed to the fact that nopony had lived there in a long time. I saw a note on the door, but I couldn't read it from the road. I wondered if I could use it to locate Cutboard or see if he had gotten help that I now realize I should've given him. As I expected, the note was about how some bank had acquired the property. It noted that trespassing was highly discouraged. Things made a little more sense. Some company had bought the property but didn't have the heart to tear it down. As I walked back something was still nagging at me. I knew Cutboard's parents kept a spare key under a false rock.

When I grabbed the key, a gnawing, swirling dread filled my stomach. Who had moved out and left everything in place? Not only the spare key but flowerpots and pictures were still there. Hay, Cutboard's rusted out, huffy bike was still laying there. I don't know what I expected to find but using the key I entered the house. The smell was overwhelming. It didn't smell like decay but, and I don't know if this will make any sense to you, but it smelled like electricity. That was the least of my concerns, however. Everything was there just as I had last seen it. The television, that bulky, oversized television set we would all sit around and watch Cutboard's tapes, stood there slightly displaying the bombardment of static. I just grew more uneasy. Every fiber of my body was shouting "Run! Run you moron!" Still I pressed on into cutboard's room.

His room was also abandoned. There were stacks of videotapes, hundreds of videotapes, stale and water-damaged. I wanted to shout for Cutboard and wait for him to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked into his parent's bedroom.

There, lying on the bed, were two motionless bodies, gone grey and half turned to dust. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing with my own eyes. Not only were the two bodies dissipating within the confines of their own household, but nopony had even checked on them! I was the first to discover this! My mind raced. My heart raced. The only thing that wouldn't move were my hooves, which remained glued to the spot.

I thought Cutboard must've done this. There was no way the two of them would just lie down at night and then simultaneously die of natural causes. Cutboard had said that he didn't care about his parents. Once I left the room, I tried to magically contact the police. But once I started, a piercing shriek of interference filled my ears. I stopped and tried the phone in their kitchen. Even louder static spewed from it. It wasn't until I put the receiver back down that I heard it.

Music. Faint, barely audible music. I hadn't noticed before but it seemed to be repeating a melody, happy and light. I followed the peppy tune to the door to the storage room, pressing my ear against the door's surface. I'm sure the music was coming from just behind the door.

"Cutboard?" I managed to get out and formed the name with my cold, bloodless lips.

"Cutboard? Are you there? Are you alright?" It reached nopony. Not that it really mattered as one weak buck knocked the rotting wood off it's rusty hinges. Through the localized dust storm I had created, I could only barely see a TV emanating the bright colors of green, blue and yellow. I could make out a cartoon on the screen and silver wires running from the set itself to a dark mass. And then, the dark mass took shape as my eyes adjusted to the strange lighting. It was Cutboard, or rather his body. He was not dead nearly as long as his parents. He sat in an old office chair, the silver wires from the television running into his body through a small hole in his stomach. I walked towards Cutboard. His face was twisted into a hideous wide grin.

"Hi there!" I heard in a jarring voice. The voice sounded happy and optimistic. It sounded almost like Cutboard but more cartoonish. I turned to the screen. The green grass, blue sky and yellow flowers. Cutboard, a perfect animated copy of him, frolicked among them on an infinite loop of a Ponyville background. It waved to me! Cutboard! Oh Celestia, Cutboard! He turned away from me and continued to stroll along the unending cycle of the backdrop. He passed a shrub then passed it again and again and again. The same bird chirping happily as it flew through the sky in a figure eight motion.

"Cutboard, oh Celestia. I should have never let you leave reality." I thought about what Cutboard had done to his mom and dad and how it had begun. Then I unplugged the TV set.

Lavender Town Syndrome

The Lavender Town Syndrome (also known as "Lavender Town Tone" or "Lavender Town Suicides") was a peak in suicides and illness of foals between the ages of 7-12 shortly after the release of an obscure video game known as Ponymon Red and Green in the Griffin kingdom forty years earlier.

Rumors say that these suicides and illness only occurred after the foals playing the game reached Lavender Town, whose theme music had extremely high frequencies, that studies showed that only foals and young teens can hear, since their ears are more sensible.

Due to the Lavender Tone, at least two-hundred foals supposedly committed suicide, and many more developed illnesses and afflictions. The foals who committed suicide usually did so by hanging or jumping from heights. Those who did not acted irrationally complained of severe headaches after listening to Lavender Town's theme.

Although Lavender Town now sounds differently depending on the game, this mass hysteria was caused by the first Ponymon game released. After the Lavender Tone incident, the programmers had fixed Lavender Town's theme music to be at a lower frequency, and since foal were no longer affected by it.

Mr. Widemouth

During my childhood my family was like a drop of water in a vast river, never remaining in one location for long. We settled in Fillydelphia when I was eight, and there we remained until I went to college in Manehatten. Most of my memories are rooted in Fillydelphia, but there are fragments in the attic of my brain which belong to the various homes we had lived in when I was much younger.

Most of these memories are unclear and pointless– chasing after another colt in the back yard of a house in Ponyville, trying to build a raft to float on the creek behind the apartment we rented in Trottingham, and so on. But there is one set of memories which remains as clear as glass, as though they were just made yesterday. I often wonder whether these memories are simply lucid dreams produced by the long sickness I experienced that Spring, but in my heart, I know they are real.

We were living in a house in a place called New Vineyard just outside the bustling metropolis of Manehattan. It was a large structure, especially for a family of three. There were a number of rooms that I didn’t see in the five months we resided there. In some ways it was a waste of space, but it was the only house on the market at the time, at least within an hour’s commute to my father’s place of work.

The day after my fifth birthday (attended by my parents alone), I came down with a fever. The doctor said I had mononucleosis, which meant no rough play and more fever for at least another three weeks. It was horrible timing to be bed-ridden– we were in the process of packing our things to move to Trottingham, and most of my things were already packed away in boxes, leaving my room barren. My mother brought me ginger ale and books several times a day, and these served the function of being my primary form of entertainment for the next few weeks. Boredom always loomed just around the corner, waiting to rear its ugly head and compound my misery.

I don’t exactly recall how I met Mr. Widemouth. I think it was about a week after I was diagnosed with mono. My first memory of the small creature was asking him if he had a name. He told me to call him Mr. Widemouth, because his mouth was large. In fact, everything about him was large in comparison to his body– his head, his eyes, his crooked ears– but his mouth was by far the largest.

“You look kind of like a Furby,” I said as he flipped through one of my books.

Mr. Widemouth stopped and gave me a puzzled look. “Furby? What’s a Furby?” he asked.

I shrugged. “You know… the toy. The little stuffed animal with the big ears. You can pet and feed them, almost like a real pet.”

“Oh.” Mr. Widemouth resumed his activity. “You don’t need one of those. They aren’t the same as having a real friend.”

I remember Mr. Widemouth disappearing every time my mother stopped by to check in on me. “I lay under your bed,” he later explained. “I don’t want your parents to see me because I’m afraid they won’t let us play anymore.”

We didn’t do much during those first few days. Mr. Widemouth just looked at my books, fascinated by the stories and pictures they contained. The third or fourth morning after I met him, he greeted me with a large smile on his face. “I have a new game we can play,” he said. “We have to wait until after your mother comes to check on you, because she can’t see us play it. It’s a secret game.”

After my mother delivered more books and soda at the usual time, Mr. Widemouth slipped out from under the bed and tugged my hoof. “We have to go the the room at the end of this hallway,” he said. I objected at first, as my parents had forbidden me to leave my bed without their permission, but Mr. Widemouth persisted until I gave in.

The room in question had no furniture or wallpaper. Its only distinguishing feature was a window opposite the doorway. Mr. Widemouth darted across the room and gave the window a firm push, flinging it open. He then beckoned me to look out at the ground below.

We were on the second story of the house, but it was on a hill, and from this angle the drop was farther than two stories due to the incline. “I like to play pretend up here,” Mr. Widemouth explained. “I pretend that there is a big, soft trampoline below this window, and I jump. If you pretend hard enough you bounce back up like a feather. I want you to try.”

I was a five-year-old with a fever, so only a hint of skepticism darted through my thoughts as I looked down and considered the possibility. “It’s a long drop,” I said.

“But that’s all a part of the fun. It wouldn’t be fun if it was only a short drop. If it were that way you may as well just bounce on a real trampoline.”

I toyed with the idea, picturing myself falling through thin air only to bounce back to the window on something unseen by pony eyes. But the realist in me prevailed. “Maybe some other time,” I said. “I don’t know if I have enough imagination. I could get hurt.”

Mr. Widemouth’s face contorted into a snarl, but only for a moment. Anger gave way to disappointment. “If you say so,” he said. He spent the rest of the day under my bed, quiet as a mouse.

The following morning Mr. Widemouth arrived holding a small box. “I want to teach you how to juggle,” he said. “Here are some things you can use to practice, before I start giving you lessons.”

I looked in the box. It was full of knives. “My parents will kill me!” I shouted, horrified that Mr. Widemouth had brought knives into my room– objects that my parents would never allow me to touch. “I’ll be spanked and grounded for a year!”

Mr. Widemouth frowned. “It’s fun to juggle with these. I want you to try it.”

I pushed the box away. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble. Knives aren’t safe to just throw in the air.”

Mr. Widemouth’s frown deepend into a scowl. He took the box of knives and slid under my bed, remaining there the rest of the day. I began to wonder how often he was under me.

I started having trouble sleeping after that. Mr. Widemouth often woke me up at night, saying he put a real trampoline under the window, a big one, one that I couldn’t see in the dark. I always declined and tried to go back to sleep, but Mr. Widemouth persisted. Sometimes he stayed by my side until early in the morning, encouraging me to jump.

He wasn’t so fun to play with anymore.

My mother came to me one morning and told me I had her permission to walk around outside. She thought the fresh air would be good for me, especially after being confined to my room for so long. Exstatic, I trotted out to the back porch, yearning for the feeling of sun on my face.

Mr. Widemouth was waiting for me. “I have something I want you to see,” he said. I must have given him a weird look, because he then said, “It’s safe, I promise.”

I followed him to the beginning of a deer trail which ran through the woods behind the house. “This is an important path,” he explained. “I’ve had a lot of friends about your age. When they were ready, I took them down this path, to a special place. You aren’t ready yet, but one day, I hope to take you there.”

I returned to the house, wondering what kind of place lay beyond that trail.

Two weeks after I met Mr. Widemouth, the last load of our things had been packed into a moving truck. I would be in the cab of that truck, sitting next to my father for the long drive to Trottingham. I considered telling Mr. Widemouth that I would be leaving, but even at five years old, I was beginning to suspect that perhaps the creature’s intentions were not to my benefit, despite what he said otherwise. For this reason, I decided to keep my departure a secret.

My father, mother, and I were in the cart at 4 a.m. He was hoping to make it to Trottingham by lunch time tomorrow with the help of an endless supply of coffee and a six-pack of energy drinks. He seemed more like a stallion who was about to run a marathon rather than one who was about to spend two days sitting still.

“Early enough for you?” he asked.

I nodded and placed my head on my mothers shoulder, hoping for some sleep before the sun came up. I felt my mother’s hoof on my shoulder. “This is the last move, honey, I promise. I know it’s hard for you, as sick as you’ve been. Once daddy gets promoted we can settle down and you can make friends.”

I opened my eyes as we left the house behind. I saw Mr. Widemouth’s silouhette in my bedroom window. He stood motionless until the cart was about to turn onto the main road. He gave a pitiful little wave good-bye, steak knife in on of his claws. I didn’t wave back.

Years later, I returned to New Vineyard. The piece of land our house stood upon was empty except for the foundation, as the house burned down a few years after my family left. Out of curiosity, I followed the deer trail that Mr. Widemouth had shown me. Part of me expected him to jump out from behind a tree and scare the living bejeesus out of me, but I felt that Mr. Widemouth was gone, somehow tied to the house that no longer existed.

The trail ended at the New Vineyard Memorial Cemetery.

I noticed that many of the tombstones belonged to foals.

Always Look Behind You

Have you ever gotten the feeling of being watched? Now, I’m not talking about those moments when you’re in a crowd and you get that feeling, because then it’s most likely somepony is watching you. You know, just probability working its way into that situation.

No… no. What I mean… is when you’re all alone. You know that there’s no one else around, not even in your house. It is in that moment when you feel eyes boring into the back of your skull, right? The moment when your stomach knots and your palms get sweaty. The moment when you want to run and hide in your parents bed like a you’re still a foal. But then you look behind you, see nothing, and relax… right?

Right?

Of course you do. You don’t know what was there just a moment ago. For you see… well that’s just it. The monster only exists when you don’t see it.. The second your eyes laid on it, the thing just went ‘poof,’ right out of existence. You don’t remember it, and neither does anyone else. But that doesn’t mean you’re not in any danger.

Let me just say, there’s a reason that our eyes make it disappear.

Your eyes are your only defense. The “windows of the soul” are what keep it at bay, for it cannot watch a pony’s soul and still exist. As soon as you blink or look away however… well, you probably don’t want to know but I’ll tell you anyway.

It rips out your eyes, and devours them.

But you want to know the most horrible part? Do you? Well… again, I’ll tell you anyway. Best to be prepared, right?

You can still see. You see it looking at you, you who has no eyes at this point. You see it ripping into your body, pulling out your organs, intestines, and eventually your heart, killing you once and for all in one of the most painful and horrifying manners that a pony being could ever lay eyes upon.

And you will see it all, for it loves slow, agonizing death.

Why do you see all this?

Because the moment you let your eyes be taken, its eyes, milky white orbs that appear far to large in its head, gained pupils… your pupils.

But before all this happens, it’s just got some empty white eyes.. It can’t see you, and when you see it, it can’t be real anymore. So make sure you always look behind you…

Oh, I think you’re getting that feeling right about now… aren’t you?

Better hope that you can look behind you fast enough.

NoEnd House lll: Origin of Ending (Part 1)

Felix stumbled to the ground in a daze. The last couple of hours were a complete blur. Haunting images would sporadically cross over his mind, slowly reminding him of the hell he’s now leaving behind. His first thought was to go to the police. There was no way he could explain any of this, but for some reason his first reaction was to go somewhere - maybe they could just come here and confirm that it’s a normal house, nothing more. They could put his mind at ease and he could go home, live a normal life with-

Then he remembered. The dirt under his feet slipped around him as Felix tore back to the house. Belle. Belle was in there. As he ran, Felix swore under his breath as he reached the door. He tried the knob, but no use. With both hooves he pounded on the door, screaming Belle’s name. Nothing. His hooves were red and burning, and David slumped to his haunches, hooves dragging down the door as he went. After a few moments, Felix felt his eyes sting. He had left her in there. The mare he loved went in to save him, and took his place. He had to find a way in. There had to be another way in. Felix got back up with renewed energy, but before he could move a letter materialized in front of him.

It was Onyx Masquerade. Maybe he could help.

-Hey, Felix. You alright? Haven’t heard from you in a while.

-onyx - celestia - where are you

-I’m in the House. I went in to find you. I told you not to go.

-its passed now whatever but onyx i need to get back in - do you know how

-Go around back - there’s an oak next to the house with a trap door at its base. Go through there, it’s a service entrance.

-what why the buck would this place need a service entrance

-Just get to the tree. I’m trying to help you.

Felix didn’t have time to ask anything more. He took off running down the porch to the other end of the house, leaping over the side rail and landing in an awkward pile below. He could see the tree wasn’t far, or maybe it was - it was so big the depth perception was hard to figure. And was that even there before? Yeah, he had other shit on his mind earlier, and who really takes notice of tress, but this one - it was massive. He ran up to the side and there it was - a small, wooden door on the ground below it, like one of those old cellar doors houses used to have leading into their basements. Felix looked around him and behind his back, and he wasn’t even sure why he did. He just had one of those feelings. Shaking it off, Felix yanked on the handle. The rusted hinges groaned in protest, but after a few hard pulls, it gave way and revealed the darkness below. With a heavy sigh, Felix slowly made his way down.

Celestia, it was dark. But soon Felix was hit with a smell that put the darkness to shame. It was like burnt hair covered in shit and mold. He spit onto the ground - he could bucking taste that smell. Felix scanned the room. Next to him was a table with a flashlight on it. He turned it on. It wasn't as bright as he had hoped. It wasn’t much, but he was at least able to see the surrounding walls. Looking around in the dim light, Felix noticed something strange. He hadn’t been in too many underground tunnels, to be fair, but he assumed the walls would be dirt, mud, or something like that. He couldn’t quite see what it was, but it wasn’t anything hoof-made, or that could pass as dirt. Curiosity got the better of him, and with his flashlight outstretched he went up to one of the side walls. He had to get close to see it, with the phone almost touching the wall. Felix’s eyes grew wide. No. Can’t- With his other hoof, Felix prodded at the wall. It gave a bit, but was solid. He was reminded of the smell, and now knew its origin. It was flesh. The walls of this tunnel were covered in burnt skin. Felix moved the light a few inches and followed the light. He saw areas where different skins were sewn together with some rough metallic string, almost like cooper wire. One section made his stomach turn over on itself. It was a face. The face of a mare, stretched out and elongated, with the eyes and mouth sewn shut. The nose was removed, and the hole that was left behind was sutured as well. Maybe it was the smell, or the sight of this but Felix couldn’t take it. With a lurch, he turned to the side and vomited on the ground.

The tunnel went on for ages. What was most likely only a few minutes felt like hours to Felix. He had to get inside and save Belle. Nothing else mattered. Onyx was a friend of his, but if it came down to it, Belle was the first to save. Onyx could rot in there if need be. Then again, he was the one that told him about this path. Felix’s mental debate ceased after something from behind touched him. With a start he spun around and was face to face with nothing. Confused, Felix brought his light up and reached out into the blackness. Nothing. Nothing, except a wall. A wall that wasn’t there two minutes ago, rank and covered in flesh. Felix screamed and pounded on the wall in front of him, and it gave only slightly. The hall was shrinking. Trapping him in as he walked. It hit Felix like a train. He was in the service tunnel, but he was in the house. It had him. There as no going back, the house was pulling him in, and it was glad to see him.

Earlier, this may have phased Felix more than it did at that moment. There, in that Tartarus tunnel, Felix barely flinched. He had seen what this place was capable of, and he had witnessed some of the most sanity-testing experiences imaginable. He’d seen it all - or at least he thought. As he walked, Felix could now here the tunnel shrinking in from behind. The grinding, sloshing noise of flesh twisting on itself to seal him in made him feel sick again, but he only sped up his walking. After a moment, he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks. It was a voice. A fillies - and it wasn’t Belle’s.

“Why did you come back? WHY DID YOU COME BACK?”

Felix stood there frozen. The voice seemed to come from every where.

“WHY DID YOU COME BACK? WHY?” The screaming was getting closer and Felix braced himself against the back wall. Soon he heard the thudding hoofsteps of somepony running towards him. And then he saw her. A filly, no older than thirteen, running up to him yelling her constant question. Felix was too stunned to react short of just standing there. The filly ran up to him and began to pound on him with her hooves, hard at first, but the weakening - like a spoiled filly hitting the ground when she doesn’t get her way.

“Why, Felix...why did you come back...?” The filly slumped to her haunches in front of him, with one final hit against his leg. Felix stood there in shock, hooves slightly raised and tense. His fear began to ease out of him. She clearly wasn’t a threat, and didn’t seem to be a ghost or anything.

“Hey,” he began, “it’s alright. Who are you?” The filly jumped slightly at his words. Slowly she lifted her head to look at Felix. His heart sank as he saw her face. No eyes. Absolutely no eyes. Blackness. And when she spoke, he could see inside her mouth. No tongue and no teeth, just a void.

“You came to save us...didn’t you?”

NoEnd House lll: Origin of Ending (Part 2)

The filly stood up and brushed her hair out of her face. For some reason, even taking how terrifying she should be to Felix, there was something oddly...normal about the Filly. She had shoulder length brown hair, and was skinny as a rail with a few specs of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Even her clothes could have been found in any store - black tank top and jeans tucked into black red boots. She was older than he first thought, as well. Closer to sixteen - if she even had an age. A hum from behind them startled them both, and dragged Felix back into his current situation.

“We have to go,” she said, “now.” And the filly grabbed his hoof and took off. Surprised, Felix followed and nearly dropped his flashlight. He tried to hold it up as far as he could to light the way.

“No need,” the filly raised her free hoof in front of her as she spoke, “I got it.” She mumbled something under breath, something that couldn’t have been Equiss, and a glowing light pulsated in front of them and followed. It was like a spot light from above was following their movements. The hum from behind was getting louder as they approached the first fork in the tunnel. Without hesitation, the filly veered them over to the right. Clearly she knew where she was going, and Felix wasn’t about to argue. After a moment, the humming stopped, and they were stood in front of a ladder leading up into darkness.

“Just up here!” And the filly began to climb the ladder before them. Felix snapped back into reality, and he was incredibly confused.

“Wait!” The filly stopped mid climb and looked over her shoulder.

“Look, I know this is weird-”

“No. No, I know what weird is. I’ve seen weird. Who are you?”

“I’ll explain soon, okay? We just really kinda need to get out of here, okay? No one is supposed to be here and we, well, are. So-” And with that the filly returned to her climb. Felix was about to retort, but the hum from behind grew louder. Survival outweighed understanding at that point, and Felix grabbed the ladder and followed the filly, leaving that tunnel for hopefully the last time.

The ladder lead the pair into an empty room. It almost looked like a huge broom closet. A few scattered buckets and mops were lining the walls, but for being a part of the house, it was very unassuming. The filly next to him shook herself off and shoved her hoof toward Felix. Her mood swings were clearly something to be impressed with, and Felix reluctantly took her hoof and bumped it.

“You’re probably wondering who I am, and why I know you.” The filly didn’t even wait for Felix to respond. “My name is Vidala, and this is sort of my house.”

“What are you talking about? How is this your house? This bucking place is your house?”

“I know, I know, but you have to understand what happened. It wasn’t always like this, it-”

“And what the hay - what was that thing you did? With the light down there?”

“Yes, I know - this is all a part of it. It all relates just let me explain.” Vidala paused and looked at Felix. He closed his mouth and looked back at her, letting her know she was now free to talk without interruption. “This is my house. I know it may seem like Tartarus right now, and you’re right. It is. My family kind of dealt in some weird stuff. We moved into this house about ten years ago, and it was nice. A small, quaint place, yeah, considering I’m used to the city - but it was nice. The problem is, my family, we...can do things. Witches, I guess.” Vidala kind of laughed at the thought. “Mostly just parlor tricks, like that light show you saw in the tunnels. But some of us, like my brother, took it a bit too far. He started to mess with some dark dealings - demons and summoning and the like. I mean, summoning isn’t always bad. I can summon a cat, for instance, which is kind of cute but what my brother dealt with was far worse. We would try and tell him to end it, but the power was kind of getting to him. Onyx was never one to listen to reason.”

“...Onyx?” The ideas was circling Felix’s head, but he wasn’t quite ready to accept it. Onyx had been his friend for years...he thought.

“This one night, seven years ago, my brother took it too far. Summoning demons for a few minutes here and there wasn’t enough for him anymore, he needed more. We would ask him why he was so obsessed with all this, and he would only respond by asking why not? What happened over the next few nights...it’s kind of hard to talk about it.” Even with her blacked out eyes, Felix could tell this memory really pained the young filly. All of this - this Tartarus - was because of her brother, his friend. It seemed to Felix that this filly was just as much a prisoner as he was.

“Alright,” Felix put a hoof on her shoulder, “then let’s get you out of here.”

Felix took a look at his surroundings. His heart jumped slightly as he glanced around. Aside from the hatch in the floor they just entered through, they wasn’t any other exit - just smooth cement walls.

“Do you know where we are?” He asked the Felix, hoping to Celestia she had some idea.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, with a bit too much hesitation for Felix’s liking, “It’s my house, isn’t it?” And with that she made her way over to one of the far walls. The surface of the wall was a smooth brushed gray cement - there was no way through, no door, nothing. Vidala reached into her pocket and took out what looked to be a small piece of artist’s charcoal. She pressed it to the wall and began to draw a long, swooping line about three feet in length. Line after line followed, and Felix watched in awe as the filly stood back and admired her work. Felix had never seen anything like it outside of fantasy movies. It was like a yin yang mixed with a pentagram mixed with a child’s doodle. Vidala placed the charcoal back into her pocket and ran her hoof through her hair. After a moment of silence, she raised her hoof and placed it against the symbol, putting her other hoof on her temple.  At first Felix thought she was speaking to him, but then realized that she was chanting her weird language again. Soon the symbol looked to be vibrating, and Felix watched on as it began to steadily glow a deep purple. Vidala smiled to herself as she felt the wall shake before it split in two.

"I've always loved doing that."

Don't Go into the Basement

You know, Mom, I remember now how it all started.

It was right after moving to the new house. How old was I? Four, maybe five? I was so young. So innocent. So unsuspecting.

The new house was beautiful, Mom. Do you remember how I used to run from room to room? You always laugh so hard when you recount those times. We were so happy. All of us.

The house was so big, much bigger than the old house. This one had two floors. The main floor had the living room and three bedrooms:  Thunderlane’s, Dad’s and your’s, and my bedroom, at the end of the hall.

Do you remember what I used to tell you about the basement though? I always told you to not go into the basement. You would brush it off. Wave away my fears. You probably don’t remember me telling you at all.

But I remember. I can never forget.

It all started with going downstairs on my own a few times. When I would go down there to get something, I would see things moving. Small, black things. In the corners, on top of the old fridge, in the hallway, in the laundry room, anywhere. They would move in and out of the corner of my eye. This would cause me to dash into the half-dimmed room and scurry upstairs. I remember one time Thunderlane commented, “Oh, Rumble’s scared again.”

I was scared of these beings, Mom. I was so scared. When you sent me down into the darkness alone, I feared for my life. I never knew what would happen when I was down there. I got to the point that I never went anywhere without turning a light on. A light switch would always be switched before going in any room, and then a frightening dash back upstairs. But I also didn’t want anypony to know I was afraid. I hid my fear the best I could, Mom. That was until seeing wasn’t the worst part.

It was not long after I began seeing them, that I started hearing them. Saying things in hushed whispers. Mocking me. Snickering. Moving objects in the basement. The small noises meant nothing to you and the rest of the family. You could turn your back to the sounds. You closed your eyes to the unknown living in your house.

I remember this one time; you found a handkerchief waiting for you on your bed. You laughed it off. You all laughed it off.  The handkerchief didn’t belong to any of us, and it was just waiting there for you, almost like a warning. But you all thanked the beings for their kind gift, making a mockery and a joke out of it. Mom, why didn’t any of you listen to me when I told you to stop?

By the time I was eight, the voices were a constant occurrence in the house. I could hear every word they said. These creatures, which I called the Whisperers, talked about everything. They talked about new things to do to be nuisances, how much we amused them, how best to hurt the family living in their house. I had learned from you to put these things behind me and ignore them.

But that became harder and harder. I remember one night, laying in my bed, I heard the door creep open. I hadn’t been able to sleep well, so small noises jerked me up in the middle of the night quite often. But the Whisperers never moved objects so carelessly. They knew I was awake, and they knew the best way to frighten me. Loud movements were heard from the kitchen, and to save myself, I flung the blankets over my head. I wanted to cry for you like a toddler, Mom, but I didn’t want to put you in harm.

I heard a yelp from the kitchen. It was soft enough that no one else would be awoken from it. I know if you ever read this, Mom, you’ll yell at me for being so stupid, but I had to see what was in the kitchen. I had to know what evil was preying on my family.

The hallway felt eerily cold in the hot summer’s night. The light, being already on, hardly made my descent to the kitchen less terrifying. My hooves shattered the silence as I struggled to creep as quietly as I could. I was so afraid, and the sweat from my body glued my clothes to my skin.

Mom, I don’t want to scare you with describing what was in the kitchen, but I’ll tell you best of what was there. A small creature, about 2 feet high, stood before me. It was pitch black and beady yellow eyes. This is the only way to describe the appearance of the creature, Mom. It smelt of a mixture of vegetable oil and that paving stuff that they put in the cracks of roads. It gave off this sound, like a crackling fire and constant murmuring whispers. The creature made me afraid, Mom. It was fear incarnate. This creature drove a stake right into my soul, making me cold and writhe in true darkness.

While I watched this…thing, it stared me down and opened its mouth, which was invisible at first glance. Its mouth was simply a whole full of razor-sharp teeth, and it snickered as I gasped at the pure horror of the scene. As quickly as it opened, the creature’s mouth closed, and it turned its gaze over to its right. I hadn’t noticed her, Mom. I hadn’t noticed Dino.

Dino, our poor hound, lie directly in the center of the kitchen underneath the countertop. A large butcher knife was nestled gently between two of her ribs. Dino whined one last time as she took in her last breath and died a painful death.

I didn’t know what to do then, Mom. I had no control of my body at that time. I cried. No, I screamed while tears fell from my eyes. I didn’t know what else to do, Mom. I couldn’t help it.

That’s when I heard them, down the hall again. Thunderlane’s door and your door was open. Oh, God, Mom. I was so frightened. Without thinking about it, I ran into Thunder’s room.

I found her mutilated.  In so much pain, but somehow alive. I know you don't want details. Let’s just agree that she had not stood a chance.

I had no time to grieve. I had to check on Dad. Strangely, the light to your room was on, so I didn’t need to go too far inside to see Dad laying lying on the ground, in a distraught, disturbing way. Two butter knives were lodged into his neck, Mom. I don’t know how that was done.

You were not in the room. You weren’t there. Why weren’t you in your room? Did you hear it coming, the hoofsteps? Did you honestly think that running to the basement would be the best answer?

I knew immediately, Mom. I knew you were down there, trying to escape the evil that was upstairs. I ran down the stairs, hoping to beat the Whisperers to you.

I found you in the family room, Mom. The light was off. I found you in front of the TV. You had gashes in your head and your legs. You were losing so much blood. When you saw me, you screamed. You screamed so loudly. I didn’t understand.

But then I saw them. The Whisperers had beat me to you. And they were chanting.

Kill her. Kill her. We must kill her. We must kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

They were chanting at me, Mom. They were telling me to kill you. They were telling me that you had to die.

That’s when I looked at my hooves.

They were covered in blood, Mom. Blood was all over me. Blood was running down me. I was holding a knife. A knife from the kitchen.

When I looked back up, the Whisperers were gone, and it was just you and me.

I turned on the light and smiled. You screamed again. I advanced you, raising the knife in my hoof.

I told you to never go into the basement, Mom. Why didn’t you listen to me?

Abandoned by Disney

Some of you may have heard that the Disney corporation is responsible for at least one real, "live" Ghost Town.

Disney built the "Treasure Island" resort in Horse Shoe Bay near Baltimare. It didn't START as a ghost town! Disney's cruise ships would actually stop at the resort and leave tourists there to relax in luxury.

This is a FACT. Look it up.

Disney blew 30,000,000 bits on the place... yes, thirty million bits.

Then they abandoned it.

Disney blamed the shallow waters (too shallow for their ships to safely operate) and there was even blame cast on the workers, saying that since they came from a place where they relaxed most of the time, they were too lazy to work a regular schedule.

That's where the factual nature of their story ends. It wasn't because of sand, and it obviously wasn't because "foreigners are lazy". Both are convenient excuses.

No, I sincerely doubt those reasons were legitimate. Why don't I buy the official story?

Because of Mowgli's Palace.

South of the beachside city of Las Pegasus, Disney began construction of "Mowgli's Palace" in the late 1990s. The concept was a Jungle-themed resort with a large, you guessed it, PALACE in the center of the whole thing.

If you're unfamiliar with the character of Mowgli, then you might better remember the story "The Jungle Book". If you haven't seen it anywhere else, you'd know it as the Disney cartoon from decades past.

Mowgli is an abandoned foal, in the jungle, essentially raised by animals and simultaneously threatened/pursued by other animals.

Mowgli's Palace was a controversial undertaking from the start. Disney bought up a ton of high-priced land for the project, and there was actually a scandal surrounding some of the purchases. The local Government claimed "eminent domain" on pony's homes, then turned around and sold the properties to Disney. At one point a home that had just been constructed was immediately condemned with little to no explanation.

The land grabbed by the Government was supposedly for some fictional highway project. Knowing full well what was going on, ponies started calling it "Mickey Mouse Highway".

Then there was the concept art. A group of stuffed shirts from Disney Co. actually held a city meeting. They intended to sell everypony on how lucrative this project was going to be for everypony. When they showed the concept art, this gigantic Indian Palace... surrounded by JUNGLE... staffed with stallions and mares in loincloths and tribal gear... well, suffice to say everypony flipped their shit.

We're talking about a large Indian Palace, Jungle, and Loincloths not only in the center of a relatively wealth area, but also a somewhat "xenophobic" area of the south-west Equestria. It was a questionable mix at that point in history.

One member of the crowd tried to storm the stage, but he was quickly subdued by security after he managed to break one of the presentation boards over his knee.

Disney took that community and essentially broke it over its knee, as well. The houses were razed, the land was cleared, and there wasn't a damned thing anypony could do or say about it. Local TV and Newspapers were against the resort at the beginning, but some insane connection between Disney's media holdings and the local venues came into play and their opinions turned on a dime.

So anyway, Treasure Island, Horse Shoe Bay. Disney sunk those millions in and then split. The same thing happened with Mowgli's Palace.

Construction was complete. Visitors actually stayed at the resort. The surrounding communities were flooded with traffic and the usual annoyances associated with an influx of lost and irate tourists.

Then it all just stopped.

Disney shut it down and nopony knew what the hay to think. But they were pretty happy about it. Disney's loss was pretty hilarious and wonderful to a large group of folks who didn't want this in the first place.

I honestly didn't give the place another thought since hearing it closed over a decade ago. I live maybe a seven or eight hour hike from the place that Mowgli's palace was built, so really I only heard the rumblings and didn't experience any of it first-hoof.

Then I read this article from somepony who had explored the Treasure Island resort and posted a whole blog about all the crazy shit he found there. Stuff just... left behind. Things smashed, defaced, probably ruined by the disgruntled former employees who had lost their jobs.

Hay, the locals from all around probably had a hoof in wrecking that place. Ponies there felt just as angry about Treasure Island as folks here did about Mowgli's Palace.

Plus there were rumors that Disney had released their aquarium "stock" into the local waters when they closed... including sharks.

Who wouldn't want to take a few swings at some merchandise after that?

Well, what I'm getting at is that this blog about Treasure Island got me thinking. Even though many years had passed since its closing, I figured it might be cool to do some "Urban Exploration" at Mowgli's Palace. Take some photos, write about my experience, and probably see if there was anything I could take home as a memento.

I'm not going to say I wasted no time in getting there, because honestly it took me another year after I first found that Treasure Island article to get around to going down to the palace.

Over the course of that year, I did a lot of research on the Palace resort... or rather, I tried to.

Naturally, no official Disney site or resource made any mention of the place. That had been scrubbed clean.

Even odder, however, was that nopony before myself had apparently thought to blog about the place or even post a photo. None of the local TV or Newspaper sites had one word about the place, though that was to be expected since they had all swung Disney's way. They wouldn't be out there lauding their embarrassment, you know?

Recently, I learned that corporations can actually ask Google, for example, to remove links from search results... basically for no good reason. Looking back, it's probably not that nobody spoke of the resort, but rather their words were made inaccessible.

So in the end I could barely find the place. All I had to go on was an old-as-Tartarus map I'd received in the mail back some number of years ago. It was a promotional item sent out to ponies who had recently been to Disney world, and I guess since I had been there twenty years earlier, that was "recent".

I didn't really intend to hang onto it. It just got shoved in with my books and comics from my foalhood. I'd only remembered it months into my research, and even then it took me another few weeks to locate the storage bin my parents had shoved it all into.

But I DID find it. Locals were no help, as most were transplants who had moved to the beach in recent years... or old residents who just sneered at me and made rude gestures the second I managed to say "Where would I find Mowgli's---"

The hike took me through an inordinately long corridor of overgrowth. Tropical plants that had run rampant and overpopulated the area mixed with the native species of flora that actually BELONGED there and had tried to reclaim the land.

I was in awe when I reached the front gates of the resort. Tremendous, monolithic wooden gates whose supports to either side looked like they must've been cut from giant sequoias. The gate itself had been gouged in several places by woodpeckers and eaten away at the base by burrowing insects.

Hanging on the gate was a sheet of metal, some random scrap, with hoof-painted letters scrawled in black. "ABANDONED BY DISNEY". Clearly the handiwork of some past local or an employee who wanted to make some small protest.

The gates were open enough to walk through, so grabbing my digital camera and the map, whose flip-side showed a layout of the resort, I set off.

The inner grounds of the place were just as overgrown as the entryway. Palm tree stood untended and ragged among piles of their own coconuts. Banana plants similarly stood in their own stinking, bug-riddled refuse. There was this sort of clash between order and chaos, as carefully planted rows of perennial flowers mixed with obnoxious tall weeds and stinking, blackened mushrooms.

All that remained of any outdoor structures were broken, rotting wood and various charred bits of unidentifiable material. What was most likely an information booth or an outdoor bar was now simply a pile of assorted debris chopped up by past vandalism and ravaged by weather.

The most interesting thing on the grounds was a statue of Baloo, the friendly bear from the Jungle Book, which stood in a sort of courtyard in front of the main building. He was frozen in a jovial wave toward no pony, staring into empty space with a silly, toothy grin as bird shit covered whole swaths of his "fur" and vines ensnared his platform.

I approached the main building - the PALACE - only to find the outside of the building covered in graffiti where the original paint hadn't peeled and chipped away. The front doors weren't just open, they had been taken off their hinges and were stolen.

Above the front doors, or the gaping maw where they had been, somepony had once again painted "ABANDONED BY DISNEY".

I wish I could tell you about all the awesome stuff I saw inside the Palace. Forgotten statues, abandoned cash registers, a full-fledged secret society of homeless bums... but no.

The inside of the building was so stark, so bare, that I actually think ponies had stolen the molding off the walls. Anything that was too big to steal... counters, desks, giant fake trees... they were all resting amid this empty echo chamber that amplified my every step like a slow rat-a-tat of a machine gun.

I checked the floorplan and headed to all the locations that might seem in any way interesting.

The kitchen was as you'd imagine... an industrial food prep area with all the appliances and space, no expenses spared. Every glass surface was broken, every door knocked off its hinges, every metal surface kicked and dented. The entire place smelled like very old piss.

The huge freezer, not even remotely cool now, had row upon row of empty shelf space. Hooks hung from the ceiling, probably for hanging cuts of meat, and as I stood inside for a moment, I noticed they were swinging.

Each hook swung in a random direction, but their movements were so slow and small that it was almost impossible to see. I figured it had been caused by my hoofsteps, so I stopped one from swinging by stopping it with my hoof, then carefully retreating, but within seconds it started to swing once more.

The bathrooms were in much the same state as the rest of the place. Just like the Treasure Island resort, somepony had methodically smashed each porcelain commode with coconuts and other implements. There was about a half inch of rancid, stinking stagnant water on the floor, so I didn't stay there very long.

What's odd is that the toilets and the sinks (and the bidets in the ladies' room, yes I went there) all dripped, leaked, or just ran freely. It seemed to me that they should've shut the water off long, LONG ago.

There were plenty of rooms in the resort, but naturally I didn't have time to look through them all. The few I did peer into were similarly wrecked, and I didn't expect to find anything there. I thought there was actually a television or radio in one room, as I really think I heard a quiet conversation coming out.

Though it was like a whisper, probably my own breathing echoing in the silence, or just another case of the sound of flowing water playing tricks on the mind, this is what it sounded like...

1: "I didn't believe it."

2: (short, unknown reply)

1: "I didn't know that. I didn't know that."

2: "Your father told you."

1: (unknown reply, or possibly just weeping.)

I know, I know, that sounds ridiculous. I'm just telling you what I experienced, why I thought there might've been something running in that room - or worse, some vagrants who had holed up there and probably would've knifed me.

At the front doors of the Palace again, I figured I hadn't found anything of note and had wasted the trip up.

As I looked out the door, I noticed something interesting in the courtyard that I had apparently missed. Something that would give me at least ONE thing to show for all my trouble, even if it was just a photograph.

There as a lifelike statue of a python, maybe eighty feet long, coiled up and "sunning" itself on a pedestal right in the center of the area. It was almost time for the sun to start setting, so the light fell onto the object in the PERFECT way for a photograph.

I approached the python and snapped a photo. Then I stood got in a bit closer and snapped another. I moved closer again to get the detail of its face.

Slowly, casually, the python lifted its head, looked directly into my eyes, turned, and slithered off the pedestal, across the grass, and into the trees.

All eighty feet of it. Its head long disappeared into the woods before its tail even left the sunning spot.

Disney had released all their exotic animals onto the grounds. Right there on my floorplan map was the "Reptile House". I should have known. I'd read about the sharks at Treasure Isle, and I should have KNOWN they'd done this.

I was dumbfounded, just utterly stupefied. My mouth must've been hanging open for the longest time before I came back down to Equestria and snapped it shut. I blinked a few times and backed away from where the snake had been, back toward the Palace.

Even though it was totally gone, I still wasn't taking any chances and backed my way into the building.

It took a few deep breaths and slaps to my own face to get myself right in the head again after that.

I looked for a place to sit down, as my legs were feeling a bit like jelly at this point. Of course, there WAS no place to sit down unless I wanted to recline in the broken glass and dead leaf carpet or haul myself up onto a desk of questionably reliability.

I had seen some stairs near the Palace's lobby and decided to go have a seat there until I felt better.

The staircase was far enough away from the front of the building to be relatively clean, save for a startling accumulation of dust. I pulled a wedge of metal off the wall, once again painted with the "ABANDONED BY DISNEY" motto I'd become accustomed to. I placed the wedge on the stairs and sat on it to keep at least somewhat clean.

The stairway led downward, below ground level. Using my camera flash as a sort of improvised flashlight, I could see that the stair case ended in a metal mesh door with a padlock. A sign on the door... a REAL sign... read "MASCOTS ONLY! THANK YOU!".

This perked up my spirits a little bit, for two reasons. One, a Mascots-Only area would have definitely had some interesting stuff back in the day... Two, the padlock was still in place. Nopony had gone down there. Not the vandals, not the looters, nopony.

This was the one place I could actually "explore" and perhaps find something interesting to photograph or wantonly steal. I had come to the Palace essentially agreeing with myself that it was okay to take anything I wanted because - hey - "abandoned".

It didn't take much to bust the lock. Well, actually that's wrong. It didn't take much to bust the metal plate on the wall that the padlock was hooked to. Time and decay had done most of the work for me, and I was able to bend the metal plate enough to pull the screws out of the wall - something nopony else had apparently thought of, or hadn't been able to do at the time.

The Mascots-Only area was a startling and very welcomed change from the rest of the building I'd seen. For one, every second or third fluorescent light overhead was illuminated, even though they flickered and faded randomly. Also, nothing had been stolen or broken, even if age and exposure were definately taking their toll.

Tables had note pads and pens, there were clocks... even a punch-in clock on the wall complete with filled-out time cards. Chairs were scattered around and there was even a small break room with an old, static-filled television and long rotted-out food and drink on the counters.

It was like one of those post-apocalypse movies where everything is left in the state of evacuation.

As I walked the maze-like sub-basement hallways of the Mascots-Only area, the sights just became more and more interesting. As I went further, desks and tables were knocked over, papers scattered and almost melded with the damp floor, and a large carpet of mold was slowly overtaking the real rotting crimson floor-covering.

Everything was just sort of "squishy". Anything wood disintegrated into mush when I applied even the least amount of force, and clothing items hanging on hooks in one of the rooms simply fell to moist threads if I tried to unhook them.

One thing that annoyed me was that the light was becoming more sparse and unreliable as I went further into the dank, suffocating depths of the place.

Eventually, I reached a black and yellow striped door with the words "CHARACTER PREP 1" stenciled on it.

The door wouldn't open at first. I figured this was probably where the costumes were kept, and I definately wanted a photograph of that twisted, stinking mess. Try as I might, whatever angle or trick I tried, the door wouldn't budge.

That is, until I gave up and started to walk away. That was when there was a slight popping sound and the door creaked open slowly.

Inside, the room was completely dark. Pitch black. I used the camera flash to look for a light switch in the wall buy the door, but there was nothing.

As I made my search, I was jarred out of my sense of excitement by a loud electrical buzz. Rows of lights overhead suddenly flashed to life, flickering and fading in and out like the rest I had passed.

It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and it seemed like the light was going to just keep getting brighter until all the bulbs exploded... but just when I thought it would reach that critical stage, the lights dimmed a bit and steadied.

The room was exactly as I had pictured it. Various Disney costumes hung on the walls, fully put together like strange cartoon cadavers hung from invisible nooses.

There was an entire rack of loincloths and "native" clothes on hangers toward the back.

What I found odd, and what I wanted to photograph right away, was a Mickey Mouse costume at the center of the room. Unlike the other costumes, it was lying on its back in the center of the floor like a murder victim. The fur on the costume was rotten and shedding, creating bare patches.

What was even odder, however, was the coloring of the costume. It was like a photo negative of the actual Mickey Mouse. Black where he should be white and white where he should be black. His normally red overalls were light blue.

The sight was off-putting enough that I actually put off photographing the thing until last.

I took a picture of the costumes hanging on the walls. Upward angles, downward angles, side shots to show an entire row of frozen, putrid cartoon faces, some with plastic eyes missing.

Then I decided to stage a shot. Just one of the bedraggled character heads on the slick, grimy floor.

I reached for the headpiece of a Donald Duck costume and carefully removed it so the thing wouldn't fall apart in my hands.

As I looked into the face of the wide-eyed, moldering head, a loud clattering sound made me jump with fright.

I looked down at my hooves, and there between my shoes was a pony's skull. It had fallen out of the mascot head and shattered into pieces at me hooves; only the empty face and lower jaw remained, staring up at me.

I dropped the Duck head immediately, as you'd expect, and moved for the door. As I stood in the doorway, I looked back to the skull on the floor.

I had to take a picture of it, you know? I HAD to, for any number of reasons that may seem silly, but only if you don't think it through.

I'd need proof of what happened, especially if Disney was going to somehow make this go away. I had no doubt in my mind, right from the start, that even if it was just gross negligence, Disney was RESPONSIBLE for this.

That's when Mickey, that photo negative, opposite-Mickey in the middle of the floor, started to get up.

Reverse mickey

First sitting up, then climbing to its hooves, the Mickey Mouse costume... or whoever was inside of it, stood there at the center of the room, its fake face just starting directly at me as I mumbled "No..." over and over and over...

With shaking hooves, a violently thrashing heart, and legs that had once again turned to jelly, I managed to lift the camera and aim it at the opposite creature now quietly sizing me up.

The digital camera's screen displayed only dead pixels in the shape of the thing. It was a perfect silhouette of the Mickey costume. As the camera moved in my unsteady hooves, the dead pixels spread, marring the screen wherever Mickey's outline moved to.

Then the camera died. Went blank and quiet and... broken.

I raised my eyes once again to the Mickey Mouse costume.

"Hey," it said in a hushed, perverted, but perfectly executed Mickey Mouse voice, "Wanna see my head come off?"

It started to pull at its own head, working its clumsy, glove-clad hooves around its neck with clawing, impatient movements similar to a wounded stallion trying to pull himself free of a predator's jaws...

As it worked its digits into its neck... so much blood...

So much thick, chunky, yellow blood...

I turned away as I heard a sickening tearing of cloth and flesh... only cared about getting away. Above the doorway out of this room, I saw the final message clawed into the metal with bone or fingernails...

"ABANDONED BY CELESTIA"

I never got the pictures out of the camera. I never wrote the blog entry about it. After I ran from that place, fled for my sanity if not my very life, I knew why Disney didn't want anypony to know about this place.

They didn't want anypony like me getting in.

They didn't want anything like that getting out.  

Room Zero

        It's been a while since I've written anything related to the Disney Corporation, and I'm sure you can understand why.

        A lot has been going on since my last post. I've received a lot of questions and concerns from folks who read my first-hoof account of Mowgli's Palace... a resort that was built and abandoned by Disney.

        I want to thank everypony who mirrored my post. It's been taken down from a few places, mostly corporate sites that were easily leaned on by a larger power. However, for every nuked topic or disappearing blog post, it seems like a hundred more have popped up.

        This is something they'll have to face. There's no turning back for them... none for me, either...

        I'm definitely being followed. For the first month or two, I chalked it up to paranoia. Any casual glance or half-smile in my direction set me off. Hairs standing on the back of the neck and everything.

        The first one, or rather, the first one I was actually able to spot, was a telephone worker milling around my apartment complex.

He was middle-aged, doughy, dressed just as you'd expect, but something just seemed off about him. I couldn't place it, but I knew this wasn't just my imagination acting up. He was awkward and out of place, not somepony who was comfortable doing his routine job.

I followed him around a corner, only to lose him there. When I turned back to go home, there he was. Staring directly at me, about ten feet behind me. Expressionless and cold.

        "Exploring?" he asked. That was all he said, and there was an accusing tone to his voice.

        Tell me, what blue collar phone jockey does that?

        I guess that's the worst part. Never feeling safe. Never feeling alone. That, and the occasional Disney merchandise left somewhere for me to find. Little rubber Mickeys in the mailbox, a Disney Adventures magazine on my bookshelf.

        They hide little Mickeys everywhere. Three circles, one big, two small, in the silhouette of the famous mouse's head.

        I've started keeping a running list of Mickeys I've found.

        Coffee cup rings on my coffee table. One big, two small. Colored glass bottles left on the doorstep, viewed from the top down. (All red.) Graffiti on the wall on my way to work; a huge Earth, small Sun and Moon in the proper locations.

        They're everywhere.

        Ponies have mailed me about this as well. If you repost anything I have to say, you're going to start finding those son of a bitch outlines. I guarantee it.

        The best one by far, one that actually made me laugh because of the horror of it all, was a drawing in chalk next my car. I was taken aback at first, walking through the parking garage, keeping an eye out for ponies following me.

        The outline seemed a perfect match for... well, a "murder victim" you're probably familiar with if you've read my past posts.

        Written in yellow... paint, I'm sure... was a single word.

        "RETRACT"

        The only good thing that has come out of all this is that I know I'm not the only one who's seen something they shouldn't have.

        I'm not going to give their names, because... well, if I have to tell you why, you haven't been paying attention.

        "Researcher" goes to Disney parks whenever he can, all throughout the year. He's not going to have fun, enjoy the rides, etc.

He's looking for the Gascots.

        There's been a long tradition, apparently, of ponies reporting strange patrons throughout the park. Silent, motionless, staring patrons of every age, shape, and size.  Stallions and mares, adults, foals, and teens.

        All wearing Disney-themed gas masks.

        Way back when, Disney would get tons of complaints about "oddly dressed" folks following others around the park. Folks who would then merge into crowds and disappear.

        Later on, the gas masks caused folks to draw other conclusions, and reports of "possible terrorists" and "bombers" started flowing.

All of those reports most likely went straight into the trash can. I know I can't find any sign of any such occasions reported on by the media. (Although you should be aware of the fact Disney can pretty much control its press like no other.)

        Researcher goes to the parks, talks to a few ponies, and tries not to draw any attention to himself. He'll just ask three or four families if they've seen "his friend", who's wearing a "funny mask".

        He has yet to see a gascot for himself... though on one occasion, a foal pointed him toward Frontier town. As he raced through the crowd, he heard a single voice ahead cry out "Mommy! I want a Goofy air-mask too!"

        A fellow I'll call "Lifeguard" worked in a Disney water park for two years.  He stood at the top of a huge water slide and made sure none of the kids got too rowdy. He passed the kids through, one at a time, telling them over and over again to be safe, keep their hooves in, and so on.

        One day, as he tells it, this fat kid goes down the tube and doesn't come out the other end.

        He's sent two or three kids after, the whole thing moves at a steady clip, so naturally you'd expect that if fatty got stuck, the kids that followed him were stuck, too.

        Not so. Only the big kid disappears. Everypony else comes out the other end, cheering and splashing like nothing's wrong.

Lifeguard shuts down the slide, much to the aggravation of the kids waiting. Before he can go through any of Disney's strict procedures... SPLASH... fatty finally comes out.

        Staff members pulled the kid out of the water. He sank like a stone when he hit, his skin already blue and his eyes wide. All he would say was "No-face Kids" and "Stop squeezing".

        The kid was okay, in case you're wondering. He got carted right off to the medical center. When Lifeguard was told to open the slide back up, he made a big stink about how it clearly wasn't safe. Despite his complaints, he was threatened with firing and begrudgingly opened the slide again.

        From that point on, he kept a closer eye on the kids. Every so often, they'd come out in the wrong order... never as stunned as the fat kid, but always with a vague look of concern... a dreamy half-stupor that seemed as if they were trying to figure out what was reality.

        They'd take on some water and choke a bit... and they'd never come back up to ride again.

        I read his letters with the same sort of unease you might be feeling right now. I wanted him to share his own story, but in the end he didn't want to expose himself that way. I can't say I blame him.

        "Snow White", which wasn't the actual role she played, was a "character" in the park. She had a nice little tidbit for me. You know what happens when a costumed employee drops dead in his suit?

        Like, one second he's taking a picture with a cute kid, and the next he's had a fatal stroke?

        A second costumed mascot in the area has to sit with the corpse on a curb or bench and wait for a designated "Dry Cleaner" to arrive and cart the body away in a discrete manner. All the while, patrons have no idea they're sitting with a dead body for photo ops.

        Feel free to check your photo albums at this point.

        That was bad, but another fellow, "Janitor", went completely off the creepy charts.

        Disney World (and probably others) is built with a series of underground tunnels just below your hooves. Three stories' worth.

Anything and everything you can imagine is down there, for use of the employees.

        They're called Utilidors. Utility Corridors.

        Basically, that's the reason you don't see characters out of place or Janitors wandering through the park. They pop in and out of hidden doors, and travel a concealed town you're walking on.

        Janitor told me something that might be common knowledge, but was nonetheless news to me.

        Walt Disney had several apartments built into his parks. There's one above Cinderella's Castle... there's one in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They're all over the place.

        More than that, there are night clubs, a movie theater, a bowling alley, and much more. All behind doors built right into the whimsical facades you passed by without a second look.

        Club 22 is one such hidden area. If you have the cash to join the exclusive club (you don't) then you'll have access to it and much more.

        Club 22 is a place where anything goes. Disney Co. calls these places "Dark Zones". Spots where the squeaky-clean visage of Mickey Mouse gives way to drinking, drugs, and, yes, sex.

        Conversely, the rest of the park is the "Bright Zone", with a few "Gray Zone" utilidors between.

        As far as Janitor has said, it wasn't always that way. It was more of a slow decline and the gradual relaxation of social norms within that elite group.

        The reason he knows all of this? You may have already guessed - He's cleaned it.

        After a lengthy background check and a non-disclosure form, Janitor moved up from a park attendant to one of the Dark Zone cleaning crew.

        Now, before you get some Tirekan "human sacrifice" vision in your head, Janitor saw nothing of the sort. Lots of empty alcohol bottles? Yes. Used condoms scattered like deflated New Years balloons? Oh, yeah. He cleaned up his share of blood, piss, and vomit, but it was all down to the unrestricted behavior of patrons as opposed to any sort of cult behavior.

        At least that's how he sees it in retrospect.

        All that trash, that profane shit, went into a furnace and mingled with the smoke of a quaint cottage's chimney.

If you've been to Disney World, you've breathed ultra-condensed sin.

        Backing up this information was "Hammer". He sent me photocopies of work papers proving his employment, with the instruction to burn them when I was convinced.

        Which I did gladly.

        Hammer worked around the Disney World park, doing demolition and construction. At one point, he approached a superior regarding some strange construction plans.

        There was wide, rectangular area marked off on the blueprints, about the size of a supermarket. The area was left unnamed, and only bore the words "DO NOT DIG".

        Not only was his superior in the dark, but he was super-bucking-purposefully in the dark. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to know about it, and ended the conversation with "this space intentionally left blank".

        Hammer didn't get it. The area seemed a waste of space, and it was directly conflicting with the work his team had been given. He started poking around the area on his off-time, finding only a derelict steel door, and a great span of concrete just beyond.

        It was a "supermarket's worth" of blank, gray floor.

        Soon after, Hammer started picking gascots out of the crowds.

        Unlike all other reports, the ponies... the things... would stand in full view of the guy. They'd cluster together in the distance, or they'd just be pressed against a wall when he turned a corner.

        He said they "moved weird", like they were weak or injured... like a deer that's been run down by a hunter and can't flee anymore.

The gasmasks... the Disney character faces with filters jammed in... he noted that they seemed wet on the inside, like condensation on a car window. Tiny beads of water glimmered behind the glass, making it impossible for any of them to actually see.

        Probing further, Hammer started asking questions of anypony and everypony who had been working in the park for a decade or more.

        He hit dead ends throughout, until he was directed to Ida, an elderly mare who worked in a restaurant on Main Street. She'd been there since way back, and though nopony had the balls to ask directly, everypony KNEW she had plenty of terrible stories to tell.

Hammer asked about the empty space, then about the gas-masked customers, and at first he thought he would receive the same non-answers he'd gotten so far. She was quiet. Eerily quiet.

        "Room Zero." She croaked, a single, shaking hoof placed to her cheek as if she were a little girl fearing a Father's punishment.

        She didn't meet the stallion's gaze for the entire conversation.

        Room Zero, as it turned out, was yet another hidden room just like the apartments and Club 22. However, its sheer size and its spot deep beneath the park set it apart from any of the "fun" dark zones.

        It was a bomb shelter.

        Room Zero was built to withstand a massive attack, be it conducted by foreign or domestic enemies.

        Room Zero was to be stocked with enough rations to feed the entire park's average number of patrons at any given moment, and housed a smaller yet lavish "panic room" of sorts for Disney higher-ups.

        During The Griffon War, official Disney gas masks were actually produced for foals to wear in the event of an attack. The idea was that it would be less scary for kids if Mickey's face was emblazoned on the wartime safety device.

        Yes, I know the obvious problems with that.

        During the Aftermath Morer scare some two hundred years after the Morer War, when Disney World was constructed, Room Zero was stocked with similar masks, as well. Whether they cared about the fears of foal, or just callous branding, the things found their way down there.

        What's more, some genius decided that kids would THEN be frightened by the gas masks their parents wore... and so all masks, adult and foal, were made to comply to this insane standard.

        Ida described it as "Treating a wound with lemon juice."

        None of this explained what Hammer had been seeing, though. Not only the seemingly supernatural appearances, but the emptied out room as well.

        "I've been in there," he explained, "There's nothing but a cement floor and four walls."

        "No," Ida shook her head and covered her mouth, stifling a sob, "You've been on top of it."

        Somepony or something sounded the alarm one day, when the park was at full capacity. The warning was clear. It was supposedly an air attack.

        Security ushered everypony down, down, down into the tremendous shelter. There, they were ordered to put on their masks and hunker down for the duration of the assault.

        Everything was quiet for about thirty minutes, save for the crying foals and the frightened whispers. No pony wanted to die, and so they were thankful in a way for this strange measure of safety.

        Then, the first scream rang out.

        "Hey!" a stallion shouted, "Quit pinching!"

        Waves of shrieks and yelps rippled through the crowd, from one wall to the other, back and forth.

        "Who's running around? Settle down!" Somepony hollered.

        "Who's laughing? This isn't funny!"

        "Ow! Who stepped on my hoof?!"

        Despite security guards' urging to calm down and keep their cool, the crowd became more and more agitated until, finally, after nearly an hour of madness...

        The lights flickered...

        Then died.

        What followed could only be described as utter chaos. In the dark, only the wails of the young and the anguished cries of adults could be heard in a massive, swelling din that bloodied the ears of all within that black echo chamber.

        A group of staff members and a select few patrons made it out of the door, ready to face the War above rather than the insanity below. What they found, of course, was a desolate, yet untouched theme park. The music continued to play, echoing through silent storybook towns.

        Upon returning to Room Zero, the few who stood at the top of the steel staircase that lead down into the pitch blackness heard no sign of the previous fray. There was only silence.

        Ida herself descended that staircase despite the begging of those she left above.

        She reached the reinforced doors, herself now awash in darkness and hearing only the buzzing in her ears.

        A single voice came out of the darkness. The echo made it impossible to tell whether the mocking, raspy voice was at the back of the bomb shelter, or if it was right in front of her face.

        "Shut the door, dear. You're letting out the cold."

        Gripped by terror, she did just that. Within days, the entire thing... shelter, staircase, all of it... was covered with feet upon feet of cement. Air systems and generators above its ceiling were removed, creating the large, empty space.

        "They're all still down there." Ida told Hammer, "Down there with whoever that was."

        You might notice I've used Ida's name.

        Unfortunately, she passed away soon after telling her story. Accidental fall, supposedly, after getting out of bed to turn on a light.

"Such a company devotee," the paper reported, "that her entire bedroom was covered with Mickey silhouettes."

Broken in the Woods

I lay out on the forest floor, my head propped up against the root of a massive redwood. Any hope I once had of escaping this place has long since left me. My stomach rumbles from going days without food. The accident must have broken my back because I’ve lost all sensation in my legs. The woods are so quiet. For a moment I try to forget about my troubles and enjoy the serenity around me.

My moment of peace is only fleeting though. I can hear the sound of something approaching from the distance. It’s faint and I can tell that my pursuer is trying not to be detected. While waiting for its arrival, I wonder to myself what it could be. A bear? A Manticore perhaps? A few minutes later and the mystery is over. I notice from the shadows, multiple sets of eyes catching the moonlight peeking in through the treetops. Timber wolves – a pack of timber wolves to be precise and I can tell they're hungry.

They encircle me, cutting off any exit lane – as if a paralyzed stallion could flee anyways. The pack look ready to kill. They move in closer, but what they don’t know is that it won’t be me dying in the woods. Not tonight at least. I’m not the prey. I’m the bait. And there’s something much bigger and hungrier out here with us.

The Rotted Man

When I was a stallion of only three,

The rotted stallion came for me.

Late one night, from my open door,

He slowly crept across the floor.

—

He took me by the hoof and said,

“I’ll save you from this life of dread.”

We left the house in the early  morn’,

And took his carriage of black and thorn.

—

We rode for hours, through thick dense fog,

To a darkened, unlit black swamp bog.

With topless trees and hanging moss,

Were safe shields from the bitter frost.

—

The thick, dense heat and the cool, crisp air

Crept up your back and through your hair.

He took me to his house of bones,

On a path laid with cobblestones.

—

Upon his door up on the head

Of a foal with hair of fiery red.

His hall was big and bathed with blood red tile,

The walls were stacks of flesh in piles.

—

He told me of his protective feel,

And begged that I should join him too.

He smiled and through his rotted lips

I saw a thousand dark whips.

—

He promised me the world would pay

And told me that I could stay.

Then we entered a smaller room,

And the rotted stallion gave me a red balloon.

—

Then I saw my mom through a tinted glass.

The stallion with her was talking fast.

The tears were pouring from her eyes,

The stallion then held her while she cried.

—

Then the rotted stallion did the strangest thing,

He sat down with me and began to sing.

A soft nice tune that filled my head,

Left with thoughts of puppies and fresh baked bread.

—

It was then I noticed the rotted stallion,

Was simply old and had a tan.

And then my mom burst in the room,

Filling it with warmth, and sweet perfume.

—

She hugged me tight and swore to me,

From here on out dad would let us be.

No more bruises, no more fights,

No more screaming in the night.

—

The rotted stallion had saved our lives,

By taking those who beat their wives.

The foals that cry when they’re dropped,

And are beaten senseless until they stop.

—

There are real horrors on this earth

Some are subjected to them at birth.

And they are saved by the stallion of rot,

I was lucky but many are not.

—

But this is how I dreamt my life,

When father came with the kitchen knife,

I thought that I would be set free,

A lonely foal he would leave be.

—

I thought a stallion could save me too,

Take me away all black and blue,

But life is not a happy end,

And as a foal without a friend.

—

My father crushed my tiny lungs,

To me his words he spoke in tongues,

For I had no sin to give,

Just a foal too young to live,

—

And when I died my final thought,

Was I wish I was saved, by a stallion made of rot.

Noi Went Left

If you’re reading this note, I’m sorry. I assume you’re in the same situation as me—that smug bastard drugged you and dumped you in these catacombs, with only a candle to find your way out.

I don’t know how many ponies he’s done this to, but there have probably been a lot. He wouldn’t spend so much time on it otherwise, would he? He told me the catacombs are a maze, and he’s set traps and deadfalls at every turn. But he promised there’s one safe way out, if I’m lucky enough to guess the correct path.

I’m not lucky. I’m just an art student, here on holiday. There’s no way I’m getting out alive. But I want somepony to. I want revenge.

I’m sure you do, too, so let’s help each other. I still have my sketchbook and pencils. Before each turn, I’m going to leave them behind for the next pony, writing down which way I went. If I survive to another passageway, I’ll come back and leave a page like this one. If I don’t, then it’s up to the next pony to carry on and go the opposite direction.

Eventually, if we keep leaving breadcrumbs, one of us will escape. Get to the police and find that bastard. Do it for those who didn’t make it.

My name is Noi. I went left here.

Reading the note by candlelight you feel a glimmer of hope, until you realize you’re reading from the sketchbook itself.  Noi never returned to tear out the page, and you’re the first pony here since him.

You look to your right, where the dark maze awaits.

My One and Only

When I got home, it was 8:00.  Later than I originally expected.  Today was a very long, very boring, mundane day.  Just as usual.  

But the hours before this moment didn't matter.  For I was about to see my spouse.  The reason I slaved over a desk for countless hours each and every day.  

Opening the door,  I flipped a switch and illuminated my home.  I took some time to look around take everything in.  I realized that I had all of this because I earned it.  I worked so hard to make a living, and I did a good job at it.  I managed to make enough money so I could take care of my needs and my wants.  All the hard work I've done was all worth it.  

And then there was my greatest prize.  The one thing that couldn’t compare to all the money in the world.  The greatest treasure of all time.  The mare I loved.  The one that vowed to spend the rest of their life with me.  All the ups and downs that we had mattered not.  What did matter was that no matter how hard it may seem, how hard it is to forgive after the most heated arguments, how tempting it may be to smack her across the cheek, I knew that love could triumph overall.

She was my one and she was my only.

I could not bear another moment away from the greatest pony I've ever met.  

"Honey... I'm home!" I proudly announced.

I heard her response coming from the basement.  She might have been collecting the ingredients that are necessary for that nights dinner.  I begun my journey to the basement.

I switched on the lights and I looked at her standing next to the fridge, her hair caught in her face.  She looked like that Samara character from the Ring. I chuckled a bit, going in for a hug.  She mumbled some incoherent obscenities.  Perhaps we had ran out of something, or she couldn't find it.  

She didn't look at me.  "Is there something wrong honey?"  I asked.  She didn't say anything.  I went in for a kiss, but she turned her face away from me.  I could tell that there was something wrong.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong."  I remove the hair away from her face... to reveal several cuts and bruises.  

I gridned my teeth in hatred.  I grinded them so hard that my teeth began to dig into my gums, drawing the crimson liquid from your my mouth.  "Who did this to you?"

She started to cry and tried to say something.  But something stopped her.  She was just mumbling.  

"Honey, just please tell me."  I removed the gag from her mouth and adjusted the ropes around her stomach so she could speak better.  

She lets out a strained breath.  "Please, just let me out of here!"  

"...What?  Can you please just tell me what happened to you?"

"Just let me out!"  she started to sob.  

I wiped away the tear from her face.  "Please.  I just want to know what happened to you."

"What are you talking about?  You know exactly what you did to me!  You have kept me down here for Celestia knows how long!  You're a sick psychopath!"

I smacked her across the face, making her fall to the ground!  I bent down and tightened the ropes around her and the chair and stuck the gag back in her mouth.  "You just don't get it, do you?!  You have no idea how hard I work to provide for you, to take care of you!  It's like you don't even care!"

I watched her as she cried.  Tears falling from her damaged face.  I turned around, an unimaginable anger burning inside of me.  As I ascended up the stairs, I got an idea.  An idea that may as well have ruined our fragile relationship.  But it was the only way.  

I turned around, eyeing her as she fearfully tried to crawl away.  Both of us knew all too well that that was pointless.  Yet I didn't know she bother trying.

I grabbed her by the hair and pull her up so she's sitting up-right in the chair she's bound to.  I didn't let go of her hair, so I used that to pull her into the furnace room just behind her.  And I pushed her in.  

I slammed the door behind me and locked it, sheathing her in a sword of darkness.  I could hear her screaming for help.  How cute.

I was near the stairs again when I felt sort of bad.  I couldn't go back to her after what I did.  But an apology would help mend the wound.  

Turning around, I slowly walked to the door and put my forehead against it.  "I'm so, so sorry, my love... I'll let you out in a week.  I love you."

I turned away, tears falling down my face.  But... there was  something wrong.  I didn't know why, but... I couldn't help but smile.  

My Best Friend Never Happened

        When I was five I saw something that almost wasn’t.

I remember Ms Lynch, our neighbour, showing up at our door. I could tell she was upset, and I remember thinking that she looked smaller.

My parents sent me up to my room. A few minutes went by and I started to hear sobbing through the floor, coupled with quiet, unsure platitudes from my parents.

As I struggled to make out the words I became aware of something pale in the corner of my eye. I tried to look at it, but my vision never quite landed. My eyes would carry on and move over it against my will, so that all I was sure of was that there was a white shape in the corner. Somehow I felt like I was breaking the rules, like I was doing something that could get me into a lot of trouble. I spent what must have been a half an hour just trying to look at the thing, getting a little closer every time.

Then I could see it.

It was a frail, skinny shrunken figure, with huge, heart-breakingly pony eyes. It looked so sad and afraid that it managed to unlock some reserve of intense empathy you wouldn’t think afoal could have. It’s limbs were lumpy tubes that ended in featureless stumps and it’s lipless mouth was drawn and quivering.

It looked at me warily, suspicion spreading across it’s miserable face.

"Hello," I said, for lack of anything else.

"You, you can see me?" it murmured, water forming over it’s eyes.

"Yeah" I said, although I had the deep, nauseating feeling that I shouldn’t. "Who are you."

The thing thought for a moment and said, "I’m don’t think I’m a ‘who’ exactly. I think I’m…a thing that nearly happened."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I don’t know. But it’s what I am."

"Well, are you a colt, or..."

"I dunno. Both. Neither"

"Well, maybe we should pretend you’re a filly. Is that okay?"

The thing smiled awkwardly.

"Yeah. I guess I might have been a filly. If...if I happened."

"And if you happened, you might have been named Winter," I said.

She giggled hoarsely, tears running down from her giant, ghostly blue eyes.

"Maybe."

And that’s how it started. Winter was there all the time, which I didn’t mind. At that age you never really want your friends to go away. She followed me to school and looked at my books over my shoulder. When I went to the bathroom she stood right outside the door. She sat on top of the table when I was eating dinner. At first we talked a lot about what she was. Don’t let horror films fool you. Foals don’t blindly accept this kind of stuff, and a five year old knows that this isn’t normal. However, after twenty minutes of Winter not being able to put things she didn’t fully understand into words, the conversation would gravitate to tv or something else normal.

Over time she got more substantial. She was less thin and the sense of wrongness about her eased.

I could tell Winter didn’t like me being around other people and friends, because we couldn’t talk and I wasn’t paying attention to her, but that didn’t make her any more petty and selfish than most foals I knew. It seemed harmless, and it might have been, if I hadn’t made her able to touch things.

We were sitting in front of the window during a storm, and all you could see was the rain exploding into ripples on the glass. It was a few years after I’d met Winter. She didn’t seem to get taller, so by then I was quite a bit bigger than her. I think we were playing checkers, and I was moving the pieces for her as usual. Her disfigured stumps just passed through things, so it was the only way.

The roaring wind and boredom combined to wear down my patience, and I snapped at her.

"Ugh! Can’t you just move the pieces yourself."

She looked up at me like a kicked puppy.

"You know I can’t."

"Well why not?"

"Because, because the pieces are real. And I’m not really real."

"Well I can see you, and I’m real."

"I’ve told you. After I didn’t happen I was like, I was sorta drifting away. Like there was a while when I was a thing that could happen, but then I didn’t and I was getting less and less real, like, even less than something that could be. I think… if you hadn’t noticed me I’d be even less. Gone. Like...you pin me down here. It works the same way with how you think about me. You started thinking I was a filly, and I started to feel like one. I coulda been a colt, I coulda been a filly, but with you I get closer to being a filly."

"So," I said, "Me thinking about you makes you stay here. And me thinking you’re one way you coulda been, makes you more like that way.

So...I really believe you can touch things. If you happened you could’ve touched things, so I say you can touch things. I think you’re real, and real things can touch things."

She looked at the board and tentatively reached out a limb. It went through the  miniscule horse-shoe.

"Try again." I said.

And she did, again and again hopelessly sliding through the piece. Then the piece moved slightly.

We both gasped, and Winter stared at her stumps with a quiet awe. The silence dragged on for a few seconds, before we both burst out laughing.

"I’m real!" she shouted.

"Of course you’re real!"

This didn’t cause any problems at first, though I suspect that was mainly due to Winter's quite gradual increase in ability.

Then my tenth birthday came around, and I was having a party in my house. Winter had always hated days like that, when I was completely surrounded by other ponies so I wouldn’t even look at her for hours on end. But she knew it was coming and prepared for it, willing to occupy herself until the evening.

It seems like my parents thought that ten was some really significant age and conferred a quantum leap in what I was allowed to do. Every time one of my friends parents arranged a play date, they said there was no need to pick them up too early, or that it was no problem if they wanted to leave my friends a little longer. I could see Winter looking more anxious every time one of these calls happened, and before long she was begging me to send everypony home. I just continued to act like I couldn’t see her.

Throughout the day I started getting to know a filly named Pond who’d been invited mostly because she lived nearby. It was the fastest I can remember becoming friends with somepony, to the point where we ended up spending the entire party focused on each other. My parents saw this, and given how close she lived asked if she wanted to sleep over. Winter actually shouted "No!" like she was in pain.

By about nine o’clock it was just me, Pond, and my parents in the house. We were watching a movie and Pond went up the stairs to use the bathroom. It was a few minutes before I noticed that Winter wasn’t in the room with me.

I heard a yelp, and a series of loud smacks.

Me and my parents reached the bottom of the stairwell at the same time. Pond was there, curled up and gasping, holding a bloody hoof to her face. I looked up and saw Winter at the top of the stairs. I’d never seen her look angry before.

Pond went to the hospital and avoided me from then on.

I tried to confront Winter.

"Why would you do that. Why did you hurt her?"

"Hurt her?" Winter growled. "She wasn’t hurt. I was hurt. You’re all I have. You’re enough for me, but you need Pond, and Pinkie Pie, and Rarity.

Why? Why do you need all them, when I just need you?"

I struggled for words.

"Because...because I’m real Winter."

Winter screamed "I’m real! I’m real because of you!"

She pulled clumsily pulled a pair of scissors of my dresser and lunged at me, missing and scraping the point along my scalp.

I hit her straight in the face, and it landed. I don’t know all the rules, but for the first time our connection and probably me teaching her to touch things allowed me to touch her. I pushed her down onto the ground I hit again and again and again, her flesh caving in like modelling clay and rupturing to squirt out thick black ink. She screamed and begged and nopony else could hear.

When I managed to stop myself I’d thought I’d killed her. In a second all the rage and instinct was swallowed by a wave of sickening guilt.

I stared at her leaking body until I heard a strained rasping and saw her chest rise.

"Winter, I'm sory sorry."

My door burst in, and my parents saw me kneeling down and crying, blood matting my hair. I think that was the only time they had any reason to suspect that anything was going on, but they took my word that I’d tripped while holding the scissors.

Winter couldn’t stand up for about a day, and it was a week before all the dents from my hooves had smoothed out and the wounds had sealed. After that she was more quiet and scared than she’d been when I first met her, always flinching if I moved too fast. After that she was a burden, something I was responsible for. I had to make sure she didn’t hurt anypony without making her feel scared. As horrible as it sounds, the beating was probably for the best. She let me make friends and have a relatively normal life, and I made time for her when I could.

Every year in school, as my social circle widened and my workload expanded, she got sadder and begged me to just stay at home. It was a constant balancing act between getting on with life and managing Winter’s emotions.

The situation only continued when I left college, got a job and a husband. You can’t just go to your room to play when you’re married and live in a relatively small apartment. I could go days without saying a word to her and the effect was that her mood was veering from miserable to outright despair.

Most of our conversations happened on the nights I wasn’t that tired, after my husband had gone to sleep. It was on a night like that that she said, "You’re making me less. You’re making me go away."

And she was right. She had become almost as skinny as when I first met her.

I made a firm decision to somehow spend more time with her. I think it was the next day that I found out I was pregnant.

Winter didn’t react well to the news, especially once the doctor visits started to cut even further into my spare time.

Winter sat in the corner of the room when the baby was being born. She looked bitter. She looked hopeless and cheated.

When the baby, Silent Night, was out, he was passed to me. My joy and relief were soured by anxiety and caution as Winter stumbled over, passing right through my husband.

"Why’d he get to happen," she said, her voice cracking.

After a few months I had to go to work. One day I somehow managed to get all the way to my cubicle before I realised something that made my gut drop. I hadn’t seen Winter since I left the house.

My phone rang. My husband Paul was on the other end, gasping for breath and on the verge of tears.

"What is it?"

"Silent, Silent he..."

I stood up and started sprinting to the car park. The world was half a second from collapsing completely.

"What about Silent?" I screeched down the phone.

"In his crib...there was a pillow on him. pushing down on him. Something was doing it...I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see."

"Is he alright," I said, jumping down cement stairs five at a time.

"I think so, but what did it. I couldn’t see!"

When I got home Paul was standing in the garden, cradling Silent. Silent was alive but crying like he never had before.

I went into house and saw Winter slouched against the wall. She was absolutely emaciated, skin stretched perfectly into the outline of a skeleton I knew she didn’t have. I still don’t know how much of it was the result of my ignoring her, and how much the fact that she hadn’t been at my side in a good hour.

"What now?" she asked hatefully, her feeble words slurring. "Do I get beat. Beat by the only pony who sees me. The only pony who knows I’m here.

I thought about running over and kicking her face in, tearing her apart. But I knew that wouldn’t get rid of her

"No," I said with a composure that surprised me. "You can’t beat something that never happened. Winter never happened. There is no Winter." I spat out the last part and grey, dirty tears began to run down her face.

I never acknowledged her again. I moved into a hotel, begging my husband to just trust me and not panic. Every day I forced myself not to look at her. I acted like I couldn’t hear her when she called out to me for some kind of interaction. But it wasn’t just that I was ignoring her. I’d done that almost by accident for days in the past. I was actively telling myself that she wasn’t there, that I was alone.

It worked. On the occasions when my vision panned over her, or I just couldn’t resist a glance, I could see her getting thinner and smaller. After three days she had shrunk down to half her size and become more lumpy and wrinkled, like the somepony had let the air out of her.

She lay on the ground, pulling herself along and struggling to raise her head a few inches. I remember one of her eyes being covered with an oversized, sagging eyelid while the other stared up at me, pleadingly. I looked away.

As she got smaller it got harder to look at her even when I wanted to. Setting your eyes on her was sort of like pushing two magnets together.

The worst moment came after a week, as I stepped out of the shower onto something damp and cool that moulded around my hoof.

I look down my eyes slipping over a black and white shape. Once I managed to see it, I screamed and jumped back against the bathroom wall.

She was less than a foot long, narrow, corrugated, and unable to move. She no longer seemed to have a mouth but still those spectral, tainted blue eyes gazed up at me. Much of her below to neck had been completely flattened by my hoof, a pool of shining black tar spreading out from where she had burst. I think she must have put every ounce of her remaining willpower, all she could get out of my remaining belief in her, into being solid for just a moment, into allowing me to step on her, just so I’d have to notice her.

Eventually I managed to get a hold of myself, and stepped out of the shower as if nothing had happened.

That night, as I was lying in bed and trying to put the image out of my mind, I heard something, so quiet it could almost have been imagined, yet icy clear and undeniably real.  It was Winter's voice.

"Thank you."

I try not to think about what she meant by that.

I moved back in with Paul. He didn’t ask questions and soon everything was going fine.

Then I got pregnant again.

I lost it in the third month.

And that’s why I’m writing this. Because I’m scared. Not of Winter, I don’t think there’s any way of bringing her back. Not of the memories of her, because most of those aren’t bad. I’m scared because sometimes I see a pale shape in the corner of my eye, calling out to me in some desperate, wordless way, and I don’t know if I have the strength to ignore it. I don’t know if I can just let it fade away.

Dear Abby

Dear Rarity,

We’ve never met before, so this may seem a bit odd, but I feel this is necessary. My name’s Jay for starters, I work the checkout line at the general store up in Canterlot. You know the one with the parking lot that’s way too big for the the store itself? Yeah, that one. I’m 24, fairly tall and have a rather scraggly appearance. You probably wouldn’t recognize me if I came up to talk to you, I don’t have a very memorable face. Heh, I don’t really know why I’m telling you all this to be honest… But, this isn’t the point of me writing you.

I was working late at night yesterday, it was a very average day for the most part. Nothing too exciting happened, but you’d be surprised how interesting this job can get at times. I’d been reading some book the guy that’d worked that counter the shift before me had left, it was some really crappy murder mystery chock full of cliches. Incredibly boring, if you ask me. But… It’s something to do I guess. When you showed up though, my whole night changed. I don’t know exactly what it was about you that caught my attention at first, but as soon as I saw you I got this odd feeling. A weird mix between excitement and terror, that’s the best way I can describe it at least. I saw you walk into my line and I quickly composed myself, I’d been slouching down in my chair for a while since I rarely ever get anyone in my line. It was only when you got closer that I realized what about you had caught my attention… You were absolutely beautiful. You walked up and said “hello” and handed me your cart. I could tell by the way you were talking and the way you looked that you were very sleep deprived, though this wasn’t surprising considering how late it was. After a second or two of awkward silence I realized that you’d greeted me, I suddenly forced out a “h- hi” in response. I cursed myself out mentally for that one.

I sat there for a second, trying to focus. “What’s your name?”, I said. It’s only later I realize how odd this must have seemed, what kind of a grocery bag guy asks what someone’s name is? I’m glad I did though. I remember, you said you were named Rarity. Rarity, it seemed to fit so perfectly. The name seemed to roll off my tongue as I said it back to myself silently. It was like sweet honey, it just felt good as I said it. You seemed to be perplexed when I looked back at you, and I wondered if I’d done something to upset you. “Shouldn’t you be packing those?” you said and pointed to your groceries. Suddenly shocked and embarrassed, I looked up and apologized, then clumsily started shoving groceries into bags as fast as I could. I couldn’t believe myself, how stupid could I be? But when I looked up, I realized you were laughing.

“You’re kind of cute” you said. I tried to play it off cool, but I was obviously thrilled. A mare like this thought I was cute? “You are too” I said, as I hastily packed the rest of the groceries. As you walked out, you turned around as you reached the door and said “Have a good night”. I’m guessing I look pretty stupid writing all this down, you probably still remember it, I mean it did just happen yesterday. But I went home ecstatic that night and with all the confidence in the world. I feel like it’s almost unreal writing it back here.

Anyways, I wanted to write you this letter, Rarity, to tell you that I love you. I don’t know what it was I felt that night, it was some weird mix up of emotions. But all I know was that even in that small little transaction we had, I felt as if there was something between us.

Please, write me back soon.

Sincerely, Jay


Dear Rarity,

It’s been a week since I sent my last letter and I still haven’t gotten a response, but that doesn’t matter. How’ve you been? My life’s been just as normal as usual, get up, go to work, go to bed. I live in a really crappy apartment, but I guess that’s what you get when you work as a grocery bagger. I’ve thought about you a lot lately, and I sometimes wonder if you still remember me.

I saw you again today at work, this time it was at a more reasonable hour, thankfully. I didn’t want to bother you to see if you’d approach me on your own. You came to my line again, which made me absolutely thrilled. This time I was less nervous, I was going to act normal no matter what you did or said. I wasn’t going to let a mare like you slip through my fingers. As you walked up you muttered something that was too quiet for me to make out, and waited at the end of the counter for me to finish packing your groceries. This obviously wasn’t what I had expected, but it wasn’t all too bad. You didn’t seem to feel anything at all, actually. I was expecting you to either come up and talk to me or avoid me like the plague, but instead you just walked on through as if I was another stranger. This makes me wonder if you got my last letter, you should check your mailbox more often.

There was one moment where I felt something though. I looked over briefly to see what you were doing, and at the same time you seemed to look up at me to see how far along I was. Right then, are eyes locked. Only for a second or two, but in those two seconds I saw so much more in you than I had seen last time. I felt as if I had known you for years, like I knew all your intricate feelings and emotions. Did you feel anything like that with me?

Shortly after I’d finished packing your bags you paid and walked out, obviously this was a pretty normal process for me considering I do it about 50 times every day, but I had been determined since the night I wrote you that letter that the next time I saw you I was going to get more out of it. I kind of screwed that one up… I wasn’t satisfied with it, I had to have more. There’s a little room in the very back left corner of the grocery store designated for staff. In there though I knew they kept all the security footage from the day, all staff are informed of this and the security camera’s locations when they’re hired. Luckily for me, there’s one positioned right next to my counter.

I waited until the store closed up and everybody left, and then I went in. After flipping through a few of the TV screens, I found the one that was connected to the camera by my counter. I re-winded it until about when I remember you coming in. After a few minutes of scanning, I’d found it. There you were, I paused on the best still shot I could find. I knew the camera wouldn’t do you justice, but it was the best I could have for now. Having a longer look at you I realized how truly perfect you were. Every feature of your body, your hair, your face, your legs… You were perfection.  I re-winded the tape to when you’d first came up to my line a few times, I couldn’t help myself. My eyes were glued to the screen.

After a few minutes of consideration, I popped out the tape and shoved it in my pocket, and then drove home. I knew I wasn’t allowed to, I could very well be fired for taking such actions, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to have you with me at all times, even if it means me losing my job.

Rarity, I love you. I love everything about you. I think about you constantly now. Do you feel the same way about me Rarity? I just want us to be together, forever.

Write back soon.

Yours truly, Jay


Dear Rarity,

It’s been 3 days and I still haven’t gotten a reply. Why don’t you want to talk to me? I’m still unsure if you got my last two letters, please tell me if you have.

So I got fired from my job, they found the missing tape. I got a call from the store owner, my boss, at 6 am on Monday and was told to come in immediately. They were having a mandatory all staff meeting. When I got there, all of the staff was gathered around a small table with the owner at the head of it. Once everypony had arrived he told us that apparently there had been a minor robbery yesterday, they’d had about 200 bits worth of stuff taken from them. And the one tape that would have shown who was the culprit was the one I had taken… Just my luck. He told us that no one was going to leave the room until somepony confessed. After a few minutes, I finally gave in. I told him everything, about how I felt as if me and you had had some kind of connection. After explaining the whole story, the entire room was staring wide eyed at me. After I finished, I sat there in silence for several seconds. Suddenly, the store owner broke the tension. “Jay, you’re fired. Get out of here now and don’t come back,” He said.

I did as I was told and got out of there as fast as I could. That stupid prick, he’s always treated me like trash. He’s been on my case since the day I got the job, I swear he’s just been waiting for me to do one little thing that could justify firing me. And the one time I slip up he finds out. Why didn’t he understand though? Doesn’t he get that you and I are meant for each other? Any rational stallion would have understood, anypony put in my situation would have done that, right?

I’ve been searching you up a lot lately, with no job I have all the time in the world to spend learning about you. Do you know how much you can find out about somepony with just a first name and a town of residence? I found out your last name’s Belle… What a beautiful name, Rarity Belle. I can’t help but say it aloud whenever I think about you. I also found out you’re 24, and you only live a mile away from me. I walked over to your home today, it looks very nice, much nicer than where I live. I knocked on your door, but you weren't there. It was your sister instead. She's really cute, Rarity. But I felt more and more discouraged every time, but I was determined to see you again.

After a few hours of waiting for you to come home, I decided to stay in the tree next to your house while I waited some more.  And after hours of waiting, I saw you.  It was late at night, around 10 I believe. I saw you walk up to the house. I felt a sudden rush of warmth at seeing your face again, I know I have the security camera tape to look at, but it doesn’t compare to seeing you in real life. I made sure to record it for later when I was at home, this time with a much higher quality camera. I wanted to capture as much detail as possible, I didn’t know the next time I would see you and the security tape wasn’t enough for me anymore.

The next day, today, actually, I found out you weren't home. I asked your sister where she was, but she wouldn't tell me.  She thought I was some sort of creep, see Rarity, these people don’t understand us, they don’t understand what we feel for each other. I ended up waiting in the tree a little while longer until somepony came out. It was a colt. What was he doing there? I bet he was bucking your sister. After talking to him for a bit, he told me where you were. He didn’t want to talk at first, but I made him… You’d be surprised what you can make ponies tell you when you’re holding a knife to their head. Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt him too bad, but we can’t have somepony interfering with us. Don’t you agree Rarity? I’m sick of all these ponies trying to keep us apart.

You were at a party with your friends.  They seem nice. I never approached you though. I was too nervous to introduce myself to your friends. I'm sure you will soon enough.

I ended up watching you from the tree for a while. You should be more careful about shutting your blinds you know, I was easily able to watch you from the parking lot.

I can’t get you out of my head anymore, ever. All I do is watch that video I took of you over and over. Rarity, I want to be with you forever. I want to wake up in the morning to see you next to me in bed.

I cannot wait until the next time I see you again.

Love, Jay

Dear Rarity,

I have some really exciting news Rarity, I’m moving in with you! Aren’t you excited? We can spend hours and hours and hours together, it’ll be just perfect.

Let me explain, my job paid just enough so I could make rent and pay for food every week. Because of this, I had little to no money in savings, no where near enough to last a very long time. When you take that money flow away it doesn’t take very much time until you have nothing left. I was able to get by for a few days, but just today I got evicted. This could actually be better than I had originally thought, I wouldn’t be surprised if that guy who told me where you were. This way they won’t be able to find me, and we get to spend all the time in the world together. It’s perfect isn’t it? I made sure to bring all my tapes and photos I’ve taken with me though, and my cameras of course.

I went up to your house and knocked on the door, but I got no answer, so I decided to get in by other means. I managed to get a key from underneath the welcome home mat.  After scanning the footage I took from last night over a few times I noticed that you have a ventilation shaft in the corner of your room, not surprising considering how hot it can get in the summer here. I figured there had to be some kind of way that I could get in. After a few minutes of looking around, I found a hole some yards away from your house covered up by a tent and I crawled in.  I crawled through the shafts until I got to your room, it was very cramped and hard to move around in, but I managed. When I got there though, I felt a rush of success. I figured since the lights were out and I couldn’t see you that you weren’t home, but I’m patient. I scanned every part of your room, trying to memorize all the intricate details. Your scent over-whelmed me as I sat there, I had caught it briefly during the two times I saw you at the store, but never this strong. It was mesmerizing, I couldn’t quite place my hoof on it but it reminded me of something, it was almost like peaches. I sat there hunched over for a few hours, though I’ve taught myself to be extremely patient. I can sit completely motionless for hours at a time, not moving a muscle, no one was going to notice me.

Then, you finally got home. I felt a wide smile form on my face the second I heard the door open. There you were, my love. Of course you took no notice to my presence, the light in your room seemed to be angled perfectly so you couldn’t see anything in the vent after the first few inches. I tried to contain my excitement, but I started breathing very heavily. I tried to cover it up as best I could, but it was hard… You suddenly looked right at the vent. I went completely silent. After a few seconds though you seemed to lose interest, this made me smile. This was the perfect spot.

I could tell I had startled you though, all throughout the night you were turning over in your sleep to look at the vent. Ponies seem to have a sense for when they’re being watched, it can send them into complete panic. Don’t try to fake it Rarity, I can tell when somepony’s awake, when somepony’s truly scared sleep becomes impossible. Why are you so scared anyways? It’s just me, why would I scare you? You do love me, right? You know I love you.

I’m looking forward to spending every day with you now Rarity, write back if you can.

Love, Jay


Dear Rarity,

I saw you wake up this morning, I didn’t sleep a wink last night. You were too enthralling, I spent the whole night watching you. I couldn’t help it… Anytime I tried to look away my eyes seemed to be drawn back a few seconds later. You look even more amazing when you’re sleeping, you know. You’d be surprised how much you can learn about a pony's personality by watching them sleep. I was tempted to get out of the vent to get a better view of you multiple times in the night, but I resisted the urge. I couldn’t have you figuring out I’m here, not yet at least.

You seemed to spend a lot of time in your bathroom in the morning, I assumed you were taking a shower or putting on make up. Why would you do that Rarity? Anything you could do to change the way you naturally look would only cover up your true beauty. Why would you want to do that, don’t you want the whole world to see what I see in you?

You left shortly after to work, or at least that’s what I assumed. After careful consideration, I decided to leave the vent. I slid my hoof (my hooves aren't as big as the average stallions, by the way) through one of the slits and felt around for one of the bolts. The surface of the vent was very smooth, which made them very easy to find. I grabbed onto one and managed to twist it as hard as I could, and finally was able to pop it off. I did this with all the other bolts and finally removed the grating.

The first thing I did was go over to the bathroom. I quickly disposed of everything I could find that you could use to mask your face, that stuff disgusts me. This way everypony'll get to see you how you truly are. I also found something else in there, your hair brush. I grabbed it and brought it close up to my face to examine it. It was a dull blue, with a very thick rounded handled. But that wasn’t what interested me, the hairs… That’s what made me so interested. I took a good few minutes to pull every one of them I could see out and line them up on your counter. I counted them, I’d gotten 59. This pleased me greatly, I quickly scooped them up and put them in my pocket.

I spent the rest of the day going through your stuff to learn more about you, your interests and such. I take it you’re a big fashion fan? I left your room and found your work room, I have to say it was quite impressive. I found something else in there that made me mad, a picture of you with another stallion. It disgusted me just looking at him, holding you like he owned you. I’M the only one that can have you Rarity. Nopony else.

At about 8:30, I considered starting to get back into the vent, since that’s usually about when you get back from work… Then I had another idea. I looked at your bed, the blankets hung low enough to the floor that you couldn’t see underneath the bed unless they were lifted up. I first screwed the vent grating back on, and slowly slid under with a smile on my face, and waited for you to get home. When you finally came in you looked completely pale, and I noticed somepony else came in behind you. They were talking to you about hearing noises coming from your room throughout the day. I mentally yelled at myself, I would need to be more careful from now on. Going under the bed had been a good idea though, since obviously your first thought was to check the vent. You thanked the pony and they left. Finally you and I were alone.

I sat there in silence until you went to bed, it seemed to be an eternity before you did. I wanted to get a closer look at you tonight, and this was my chance. You got in bed and turned off the lights. I was cautious though, I waited for hours to make sure you were asleep, and when I was sure you were I slowly slid out from under the bed. And I saw you there, you looked absolutely stunning. Every curve of your body was perfect, every little detail was beautiful. I was in awe just looking at you. I reached out my hoof and I started to stroke your face, it was soft like silk. I felt myself starting to get hard, your beauty was over whelming. I slowly reached down and started to pleasure myself, I tried to control myself out of worry of waking you up, but I couldn’t help it. I felt pure ecstasy, everything about you was perfect.

Suddenly, you seemed to turn and started to wake up. Horrified, I quickly slid back under the bed trying to be as quiet as possible. A few seconds I saw you get out of bed and look around. I could sense your fear even without looking at you, you should feel calm with me around you Rarity. I’ll protect you Rarity, no pony will ever touch you but me, I’d kill someone for you Rarity.

I made sure to pay attention today, you didn’t bring in my letter from yesterday or any mail at all, you must just not check your mailbox. I’m going to change that though, I’m going to leave this one on your desk tomorrow.

Yours forever, Jay


Dear Abby,

I spent more time today working on the surprise while you were at work, you’re really gonna love it Rarity. I’ve put a lot of work into it you know. I spent a few hours today putting the finishing touches on it, and I think it’s finally ready for you to see.

You got home at about 8:30 again, and saw the letter laying on your desk almost immediately. I started to smile as I saw you open it, waiting to see your reaction. It was really quite interesting watching your face, I could see all your different emotions and thoughts. You seemed to be confused at first, then shocked, then horrified. You started to shake violently and I saw that you were starting to cry, do you not like me Rarity? Why were you crying? Don’t you love me? DON’T YOU LOVE ME ABBY?

Everything after that was a blur, you looked over to the closet while still sobbing. You seemed to be contemplating whether to open it or not. Instead, you ran past it and out the door. When you came back you had all my letters in your hand and started going through them. At some point you seemed to break down and curl up on the floor, tears still rolling down your face. I could tell you were desperately trying to say something, anything, but you were to paralyzed in fear. After about 10 minutes, I saw you look under the bed, in the vent, anywhere I could be. You see though Abby, I’m smarter than that. I knew you’d look in those places, I found a better place after I finished your surprise. You’ll never find me here, no one will. Isn’t it great? I can watch you forever and ever and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

You hadn’t found your surprise yet though Rarity, and I could tell you were still thinking about it. I saw you look over to your closet, I knew you wanted to open it but at the same time you were nervous. What was going to be in it? What would you find? This couldn’t last forever though, you and I both knew that. I watched you slowly walk over to your closet, fumbling with the handle trying to get a firm grasp on it. Suddenly, you flung the doors open and saw it.

It was a scrapbook, of me and you. I saw you flipping through the pages, you seemed to be shocked. Do you not like it Rarity? I got pictures of you and I when you weren’t looking, pictures of you sleeping, pictures of you in your work room. I’d scattered the hairs I had collected throughout it, along with pictures of couples together, of course with our faces on them though. I got that picture of you with the other guy and put it at the very back, except I didn’t leave it like it normally was. I scratched that little prick’s face off. I hate him so much. If I knew who he was I would hunt him down and make him suffer. Don’t you get it Rarity? No one, NO ONE can have you but me. Me and you are meant for each other, no one else.

I watched you sob for another 30 minutes, and then get up and run out of your apartment. Shortly after you came back with multiple police men. This shocked me. Did you not like the surprise Rarity? Why would you bring these ponies into our room? They’ll never find where I am, but if they did it could ruin everything. All my work from the last few weeks would be for nothing. You wouldn’t want that, right Rarity?

I’m exhausted from todays work, and as much as I love you, I need sleep Rarity.

Have a good night, I love you.

Love, Jay


Dear Abby,

Do you see what you’ve done Rarity? DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE? I woke up at 8 am to see you franticly packing your bags, I was confused at first, but then I understood. You were leaving me. You don’t love me. You don’t love me. How could you do this to me Rarity, you were the only thing I wanted in life, I had nothing else to live for, but when I first met you I saw a shimmer of hope. I thought that I’d finally have reason to wake up in the morning and go on with my terrible life. And you went and threw that away. How could you do this to me Rarity?

A few seconds after you left your room I got out of my hiding spot and followed behind you. I saw you throw your bags in a taxi cart and then get in. I wasn’t going to let you get away though Rarity, I would never let that happen. I ran as fast as I could to the cart and smashed the taxi cart puller's head in and dragged you out. Did you really think you could get away from me Rarity? I had to hit you over the head to knock you out, you were making too much noise. Somepony else, somepony that doesn’t understand, could have seen and ruined everything.

Well, I had a plan for if you reacted like this. I dragged you out to a storage unit at the edge of town, I’d reserved a slot the day I decided to move in with you. I drove up and unlocked it, I grabbed you and carried you inside it with me. It had only been a few minutes so you were still unconscious. I set you down at the very back of the small room, then I got in and lowered the door. I called the owner of the storage unit and told him that I had visited my lot the other day and forgotten to lock it, and asked him if he would mind locking it for me. Of course, he said yes. Shortly later I heard the owner come up and lock the door.

About an hour later, I saw you start to get up. I first heard a very faint grunt, then I saw your leg start to move. Shortly after you were fully awake. When you saw my face, you started to scream, which then subsided to a whine and then to a whimper. That’s when you saw it, the one other thing in the room. My knife. It was obvious why it was there, and after a second or two of realization you jumped and grabbed it.

I looked you dead in the eyes and said “Rarity, I love you.” and then I felt the searing pain of the knife being driven into my side, I felt it being pulled out and jabbed back in with great force. I could feel it go in each time, like a fire burning a hole through my chest. I fell to the floor, laughing while coughing up blood. I saw you back away, trembling, and sit back down in the corner.

And now, as I sit here in a puddle of my own blood writing this, I wonder how you’ll go out. Will you use the knife to take your own life? Or will you let starvation take you? Either way, we’ll be together in death Rarity. Together from the day I saw you till the day we both died, just as I wanted it. And as you sit there, crying, I can tell you’ve come to this realization. Rarity, this is all I ever wanted, and for that I have to say thank you.

Love, Jay.

I'm Sorry, Daddy

I was a single father at the time. My wife had been a narcissistic madmare who wasn't capable of taking care of herself, so our divorce was more or less a blessing to me.

When we had separated, I was granted custody of our young son, who was my entire life. During our marriage, my wife had complained that I spent too much time doting on him rather than her, who apparently thought she deserved acknowledgment.

Having that witch out of the house and away from my boy had many advantages about it, but it also had some drawbacks.

I was working all the time, so often I would hire a babysitter or call my parents and see if they could watch my son. I usually tried to get my parents to do it, but every now and again I had to settle with Marigold, the only babysitter who was ever available on short notice.

I never particularly liked Marigold, as she was always a bit on the irresponsible side.

Marigold would often spend most of the time babysitting on the phone rather than paying attention to my child, and every time she saw my car pull into the driveway she grabbed her things and left through the back door… She was a pain. But she was all that was available.

One night, I stepped into my home and I called her name, but there was no answer. I assumed she must have left through the back door again, so I paid no attention to her lack of answer. I walked into the living room and saw that at the top of my stairs was my son, still in his pajamas.

"Hey, sport," I called to him, before noticing the look on his face. "Something wrong, son?"

"I had a nightmare, Daddy," he told me, before running down the stairs to hug me. "It was so scary…"

"What happened in it?" I asked. He hugged me tighter.

"I was walking down the hall when I heard the sound of Marigold humming downstairs. I hid in the dark of the tops of the stairs where she couldn't see me, and I spied on her doing her homework in the kitchen. After a few minutes, the pantry door behind her opened silently. She was listening to her little music thingy, so she didn't hear it. Out of the pantry there was this naked monster pony with tiny little black eyes…" he shivered.

"Go on, son," I cajoled.

"Well, the monster pony watched her for a long time, and then he waved his hoof at the closet in the living room. It opened, and another monster pony came out of that door. She was focused on her homework and her music and it was dark so she didn't see him either.

The two monster pony watched her for a while before the second monster pony waved at the window. The curtain was pushed away, and there was another monster pomy behind it. Marigold didn't see him either… so then, the third and second monster ponies waved at the basement door, and two monster ponies came out. I was so scared, Daddy… but I tried to be quiet and none of them saw me.

"They all watched Marigold for a few minutes before the one right behind her started growling. She didn't hear it. It growled louder. She made a face and blinked. I was praying that she wouldn't turn around, Daddy. But she did. She screamed and screamed and cried and screamed, and all the naked monster ponies ran up and started attacking her.

They ripped her into pieces and ate them all… and when they were done they licked up all the blood on the floor. Then they all nodded at each other, and they all went back to where they were before…in the pantry, in the closet, behind the curtain, in the basement… and I just sat at the top of the stairs, I was so scared Daddy…"

I pulled the colt closer as he softly began to cry. I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek as I tried my best to comfort him. "…Then what happened, son?"

"… I… I went to leave and get the neighbors to help. I thought that if I ran fast enough to the door, they wouldn't catch me. I ran as fast as I could… but they all jumped out at me, Daddy. They were so scary. They grabbed me and were about to eat me when… when…"

"What happened, son?"

He stuttered as he attempted to weep out the rest of the tale.

"You can tell me anything, son… what happened?" I stroked his hair as he began to compose himself.

"I… I… I told them that if they let me go… I would stall you when you came home, so they could get you too, Daddy… and spare me."

All was silent for a moment. And in that moment, I could hear a series of doors opening all around the house. My son buried his face in my chest.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

Return to NoEnd

The wall slid closed behind me and Vidala. The wall was smooth. Perfectly smooth as if the doorway was never there. Ahead of us was another room. An empty room, old and dusty.

“Where are we?”

“Room one. I can’t get us into the management room directly and the fastest way is through.” Vidala responded. She walked further into the room towards the door on the opposite side. She walked straight ahead. Fearlessly. I couldn’t help but feel like she knew something I didn’t. It was a good feeling though. To know she wasn’t afraid of the house, helped me to not be as afraid.

“This can’t be room one.” I said. “Room one was filled with crappy Halloween decorations.”

“Room one is always filled with decorations. It’s how the house plays with you. It knows what you’re not afraid of.”

“But there’s nothing here.”

“This is MY room one.” she said. “I’ve never had a Nightmare Night.”

I didn’t say anything to her, but I definitely questioned how the buck could no one have a Nightmare Night? Maybe it’s that family that she talked about? Maybe they never celebrated but if she knew the house, what other option did I have to follow? She placed her hoof on the door knob and walked through the door labeled “2.”

Room two was the same size as room one, but this room was filled with playground equipment. Vidala’s stride never broke. She continued deeper into the room and I followed at a steady pace as well. I couldn’t help but look in awe at the slides and swings we passed along the way. This was so different from my room two. No paper ghosts or smoke machines. This was almost eerie. If I hadn’t spent so much time in the house already, I would have been shocked. At some point I must have been lost in the room and was staring at the golden 3 that was screwed into the brown wooden door in front of me. If I hadn’t caught myself I would have a bloody nose from bashing my head into it. I must have zoned out. I looked back at Vidala still come through the room, looking at the swings as she went by. Out of instinct I reached for the knob.

"Wait!”

In a last split second I turned my head back to see Vidala reaching out to me before my hoof touched the knob for room three. Instantly, the room went black. My hoof grasped nothing. I felt around in front me frantically trying to find the door that I stood in front of just a moment earlier but there was nothing. Just blackness and silence. Celestia dammit! I was in the blackness again! That bucking blackness that was my room four must be Vidala’s room three. I felt the panic rising in my again. All confidence from watching Vidala earlier was gone. I looked in all directions trying to find a wall or a door, my arms outstretched.

“Vidala!? Where are you?” I called out into the darkness. No response. She had to be in this room, just not around me. “Vidala?” The hum. That bucking hum was back. It was soft again and started to build. The panic was definitely back. The house knew this was the worse thing it could give me and it gave it to me again. I started moving. If I kept going in one direction I’d have to find a wall. Even if it’s not the door, I could follow the wall until I found the door out. I must have been moving faster than I thought. I crashed into something hard. It shook and fell over. It couldn’t have been a pony but it startled me just the same. Last time I was in this room I know I was alone but this time I knew something had to be here. The flash happened, flooding the room with temporary light. It was a stool. And what rolled off of it was a flashlight. No that couldn’t be it. Why? Before I had a chance to look for the exit the lights were out again and I was back in blackness. I dropped to the floor, searching were the afterimage of the flashlight still was. I had it. I prayed that the light hadn’t broken when it fell. Thank Celestia. It still worked. The beam nearly illuminated the whole room with the light and directly ahead of me was a hand written 4 in black sharpie on a glass door. Thanks to the light, I noticed the tag on the flashlight. “To Felix. From Management. I love you.” The buckers are toying with me aren’t they? But this time I’m with…. I searched the room again. Vidala was no where to be found.

All 4 walls, the door and no Vidala… Reluctantly, I continued to the door. Vidala was still in the house with me. I’d find her again. The glass door was fogged up. I couldn’t see through it, but whatever was on the other side…was cold… I opened the door and stepped in.

Room four didn’t require the flashlight. It was cold, that’s for damn sure but it wasn’t dark. It was a well lit meat locker. Row after row of cow and pig hung in all directions. Whomever this was intended to feed, they must have had a killer appetite. The chill made it hard to stay still for too long. I rubbed my hooves over my exposed body and moved one to the side, looking beyond. More meat. I continued deeper and even more meat still. I moved further in silence. I passed by carcasses of every noticeable animal the further I went. My hooves were sticky and red with the blood of the hanging beasts of all different shapes and sizes. To make things even more confusing, they started to become animals I didn’t recognize. Mammals with more than 4 legs which didn’t seem possible to me. Finally, I came across one that I did recognize. I was expecting to see this form the moment I entered the meat locker but that didn’t save my stomach from turning at the site. A pony body, skinned and decapitated hung in my way. I tried not to look and pushed past. This was disgusting. More and more bodies hung from the ceiling closer together, and to make matters worse the temperature was starting to rise. The bodies were suffocating enough but the air became thick with the stench of wet rot. The bodies were squeezing me enough to almost raise me off the ground while pushing my way through. The frozen meat had become soft and squishy, pulling off chunks as I pushed my way through. I coughed and held my hoof over my face to keep myself from vomiting. Little help that did, I just ended up covering myself in more blood.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t move. I’m was going to die here. I’m was going to drown in blood and bodies. I reached my arm deeper into the bodies and rested my head on a blood soaked rib cage, suspended in the air drawing in breath as much as I could through my mouth.

The coppery taste of blood on my tongue had taken to the air. I was losing consciousness.

Something grabbed me. I was going to recoil my arm but I couldn’t. The hoof had grabbed me tightly along my fore arm. I was pulling back and the hoof was pulling me towards it, pulling myself out of the bodies. And into Room 5.

Vidala looked down at me. I sat at the base of the door and a dark blue light illuminated Vidala's look of anger. I could breathe again. Vidala was back. Finally my panic began to subside.

“Don’t you ever touch a door without me.”

“You could have said something before hoof. This isn’t my house I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just trying to get my girlfriend and get out of-”

A small crinkle in my pocket alarmed it.  I pulled it out.  It was from Onyx. “Don’t trust her.” Vidala looked down at my phone and snatched it out of my hoof. She angrily pointed the phone at me.

“Are you kidding me? Are you bucking kidding me? You’re talking with Onyx!? You can’t trust me? I’ve told you everything about this house! I lead you back into the house and you can’t trust me!”

“He just sent that to me! Don’t bucking accuse me of anything!” I gruffly snatched the letter back from her hoof and shoved it back into my pocket. I pushed her to the side and moved into the room. I hadn’t taken in the room until this point but the blue lights finally made sense. We were at an indoor pool, lit around the edges by lights just under the surface. “What is this?”

“My room 5.” We walked over to the pool and looked in. I could see the bottom with a lighted 6. Next to edge was a a yellow scuba tank. Just 1. I knelt beside it as she dipped her hoof into the waters to test it. She didn’t recoil or scream so as far as I could tell, the water was safe enough. I inspected the tank. As I expected there was another note. “With Love, From Management” bucking management. Was it Onyx that was giving me these things? If it was, why? Why help me? I ripped off the tag and placed it in my pocket and picked up the tank. I handed it to Vidala.

“We’re going to have to share.”

“And you can trust me with it? I want my house back Felix. I want to control this house… Do you trust me more than Onyx?”

I did not look away from her. I weighed her. I had no idea why she would want this house but I needed her. I shook my hoof for her to take the tank from me. She did and fixed the rebreather into her mouth.

I needed her. I didn’t trust her.

Two things became apparent when entering the water. The lights on the 6 at the bottom of the pool were off as soon as we entered, and the water was surprisingly warm. If I didn’t feel like my life was in danger, I might have actually enjoyed this swim. We dove down and it quickly became evident that the 6 at the bottom did not signify 6 feet. The bottom seemed to drop away almost. We swam down, taking a break every so often to breath from Vidala’s re-breather. The pressure grew stronger as we descended and the lights began to fade. After a few minutes, it felt like I should be seeing angler fish swimming around. It became so dark. I realized I was still holding the flashlight I got from Room 3. It couldn’t hurt to try and a beam of light shot out into the the darkness in the water. I took another hit of fresh air from Vidala’s rebreather. I saw her looking at the light and back up at me. Her expression told me that we would be having another heated conversation about the flashlight when we got out of the water. I pointed it downward. Still no bottom. I pressed on downward and felt a current of motion in the water above me. I turned the flashlight upward and searched the water. By this point I couldn’t even see the surface any longer, but there was nothing around me. The water was pitch black in all directions. I looked back towards Vidala who looked at me confused. I wrote it off as another hallucination and continued downward. The house was going to get to me and I was jumpy as it was. The current changed again and this time I could feel it closer. I swam close to Vidala to take another breath from the O2 tank and pointed the flashlight in all directions to check again. Still nothing but blackness. Her hoof rested on my wrist and she looked at me concerned. I tried to communicate with her but it was impossible without speech. How do you say “I think there’s a lake monster in here” without words? Suddenly, her grip tightened and her body thrashed about. The rebreather dropped from my mouth and I grabbed her hoof with mine. Her eyes showed panic and she looked down to her leg. Something was there.

Something that was a deep blue or a black. I couldn’t see it clearly and I couldn’t point the light directly at it with all the thrashing. I couldn’t let her go. I needed her. She needed to get me to the end of this house. She opened her mouth to scream but only bubbles escaped in the pressure under water. She needed the O2 tank or she’d drown, but there was too much going on to think how to fix it. It happened so fast, I couldn’t put it all together. Her grip loosened and she was gone in an instant into the black water. I pointed the flashlight in the direction she went but there was nothing. Darkness. I looked everywhere I could think. She was gone, but the oxygen was gone as well and panic was setting in. my chest started to burn. Finally I looked down… I was on the bottom and below me was a large white 6 painted perfectly on a sheet of glass. It was right here, but that was impossible. With all the thrashing, I should have been ascending not descending but it was the bottom all the less. I looked upward again trying to find Natalie. I couldn’t continue without her but my air was running out and the pressure at this depth was pushing precious oxygen out of my lungs. I turned back to the glass and bashed it with the flashlight. Nothing. Shit! I have to get through this. How was I supposed to when I was under water? I bashed it again as hard I could with the water resistance holding me back. A crack. Thank god a fucking crack. I wheeled back again but my body betrayed me and I took in a short breath of water. I choked and held a hand over my nose and mouth. This can’t be happening, there was no where else to go and I can’t go back up. The crack grew larger below me. I kicked at it as hard as I could with my feet below me and-

The crash was deafening.

I flooded into Room six completely dry but coughing water out of my lungs and gasping for precious air. I was on the floor crying and coughing. I fell to my side. I didn’t want to continue. I’d already gone through Tartarus once. What the Hay was I doing here again? What could be worth this Bucking torture?

“You’ve been cheating.”

The first time I heard that voice I nearly jumped out of my skin but this time, I remember her, and just like last time, she wasn’t going to let me pass out. I caught my breath and I stood up to face her. Just like before the filly and the beast consumed the same space. I couldn’t keep looking at her for long but I did what I could to not show how much my head throbbed from looking at them.

“You can’t have a partner. That’s cheating you know.”

“Is she alive?”

“Is who alive? Belle doesn’t like that new girl.”

That struck it. Belle was here. She knew it. I was getting closer.

“How do you know Belle? Is she here do you know where she is?!”

“…Who’s Belle?”

“STOP FUCKING WITH ME! Fuck this house and fuck Onyx and fuck whatever the Tartarus you are. Give me Belle and get me out of here!”

“Fine” This time she didn’t sound like the little filly. This time she sounded like Belle. That was the last straw.

“Oh buck you.” I turned my back to the thing. I was going to move on. I ran my hooves over the wall looking for the door. What did I have to do this time? I slammed my hoof against the wall searching for a hollow point with no result. It was solid. Did I need to scratch the 7 into the door again? I took my hoof and started to trace the shape of the 7 into the paint.

“That’s not going to work.” Belle said.

I spun around to look the little filly in the face and tell her to shut her Celestia damn mouth, but I was near speechless to find Belle standing before me. She couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be there. None the less, I was fighting back happy tears and the urge to run to her and hold her next to me again.

“Belle..? Is this really you or is it the house? I have to know.”

“It’s fine I understand… You want Vidala back right? Is she your new girlfriend Felix?”

“No it’s not like that she’s helping me rescue you”

“Wasn’t that your fault though? Didn’t YOU lead me to this house?”

“No, Belle. I didn’t want you to come here. I was just trying to make some quick money”

“NO Felix. I think you were bucking a filly behind my back! I think, You TOLD Onyx to bring me here! I think you wanted me out of the way.”

“Belle this is crazy! Why would I kill you!? Calm down!”

“NO Felix,” Belle’s hoof slid from behind her back holding a surgical scalpel. “I’m done with your lying and your bullshit! I’m done with you.”

“Belle. Stop…. the house is bucking with us ok. This isn’t you. I swear to Celestia this isn’t you and whatever you were seeing, it wasn’t me.”

“No Felix.” She pointed the knife at herself and raised her hoof into the air. The light from the one bulb shining above her gleamed off of the blade. My hoof came up from my side. This isn’t real. I swear this has to just be the house bucking with me. She wouldn’t say this. She couldn’t do this. “This is real.”

I screamed louder than I’ve ever screamed as she plunged the knife into her chest. I watched it unfold in front of me like a horror film. She stared me right in the eyes and covered her body in blood. She repeatedly thrust the scalpel into her her chest and throat. over and over and over.

She fell to the floor in a heap. I still stood there screaming. If this was real like she said, what had I done? When my throat was finally hoarse from screaming I dropped to her side and held her finally. Tears were streaming down my face and I was sobbing. All I could say was “I’m sorry” continuously. As much as I wanted to believe that this was the house playing with me I couldn’t help it. This was Belle. I loved this filly. And now…..

I looked over her wounds… Her cuts formed a 7 in her chest… If the house could laugh at me I’m sure it would have. The tears stopped. My body shook. I wanted to scream and cry… and burn this Celestia damn house to the ground. I placed my hoof on the scalpel that was still sticking out of the 7 in this Belle’s chest….. and pulled.

I was outside…. Room 8 is always outside.

I sat there in front of the NoEnd House but somehow I knew I was still in the NoEnd House. I looked around me as though I were the living dead. I was just holding my dead marefriend. I was just there watching her yell at me, watching her break and watching her commit suicide. Was she even really in the house or have I just been stuck here the whole time? The house was going to far. It was too much. I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. I wanted out.

Another crinkle in my pocket.

It was Onyx.

“Felix, You have to go home.” Despite the fact that it was a paper, I could hear the words loud and clear.

“Onyx what the buck is going on? I’m in the house and this filly said that you’re the one running it.”

“She’s not wrong and she’s not right. Go home Felix.”

“I can’t. I’m back in the house already.”

“No. you’re outside. Go Home.”

“Buck you!” I ripped up the paper and ran.  He’s told me all I need to know. If I was outside. If I was REALLY outside, I would go to the police. I’d contact anyone that could help me. We’d tear the house down brick by brick if we had to to get Belle out. I continued running.  Finally, I didn’t know if it was real or not, but it felt good to at least watch the house fade into the darkness behind me as I traveled down the dirt road. Ten minutes later and I was finally back into town and approaching the Police Station. A sigh escaped my lips. “Please be real.” I whispered to myself. And if it is, it’s felt like years since I had spoken to another pony being who wasn’t involved with this house. I prepped myself as much as I could and walked to the doors of the station.

A small stoop sat before the police station and I hopped up the steps quick to come to the sight that I dreaded to see. Across both of the doors of the Police station, in black paint, was spray painted a large 8. I shook my head in disbelief. I knew that I was still in the house but it knew I would come here. That was insane. Onyx just told me that I was outside. He WAS bucking me. He WAS running things here.

“Felix…. go home and forget about the house.” I heard his voice in my head, no letter.

That was Onyx’s voice. This was the house! This was the bucking house again! I ran back down the stairs and kept running. I had no idea where I was going or where I COULD go to. I just ran. Every store. Every house. Every bucking mailbox I passed. 8.

8’s were on everything and on every street. No matter where I turned there was the door to the next room. I couldn’t enjoy being out of the house. I couldn’t get help. I was helplessly trapped in the No End House.

I was home. I don’t know how or why I drove home. I don’t think I was driving home…. but here I was parked in my driveway again. The door of my car creaked open and I looked up at my door. There was no 8. Closer and closer I came to it, but not at 8 this time. My neighbors all had 8s but my door… My door had a glowing green Exit above it like you would see in the halls of a school.

The house had to be lying to me. This couldn’t actually be the exit… but if Onyx was the management, maybe he really wanted me out of the house. Maybe I was too close and he knew I was… Freedom is right here and all I had to do was walk out. My breathing was so much harder. I’ve been scared before, but how was I supposed to know anymore what was right to do here? My hoof moved to the doorknob of the exit. Why was I even here anymore? Why not risk the Exit?

“Belle’s dead. Forget about her and move on.” I just stared at the exit sign… Maggie…

I took my hoof away from the door knob. The humming…. was back. The house is pushing me to leave. The management wanted me to leave. Belle couldn’t be dead. I took a step back away from my door. Belle was here. I walked down the steps of my house. Belle needed me. I walked up to my neighbor’s door with the large 8 painted on it. We were going to get out of here together. I entered room 8.

I was in the room again. One chair and one light. The door behind me was gone again. I didn’t have to turn to know that, but my eyes didn’t leave what was in front of me. Onyx sat in the chair before me. He looked like he always did. No blood and no weapons. He just sat there in his T-shirt and Jeans looking me right in the eyes. He stood up and smiled at me like he was happy to see me. I continued to look on at him. He did all of this to me. To us.

“Was it worth another 5000 bits, Felix? Killing Vidala? Killing Belle?”

“What? Me?” Was this guy serious? He’s going to blame me for all this? He got me involved he was the one running this bucking house and he is blaming me for all my torture? “Are you real Onyx?”

“Am I real…Was Vidala real? Or was that the house pushing you further? Because you wanted to go through the service entrance. You wanted to cheat and make your way in and back out again easily.”

“Stop it! I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not how the NoEnd House works Felix. You know that right?”

“I’m doing the right thing here. I’m trying to get Belle out.”

“There are consequences Felix! This is your fault!”

“Onyx… I dont care about what kind of shit you’re wrapped up in.”

“You killed them Felix… Their blood is on your hooves.”

“You want to fight witches or.. Vampires or werewolves or whatever the buck I don’t care… I want out. I just want Belle and I want out.”

“You had your chance to get out Felix but you didn’t take it and now the only way-”

There was a gunshot.

Onyx’s brain was in specs all over the floor and there was a large hole through his left eye. He fell to the floor in front of me. Two. I watched two of closest ponies to me die today. I had nothing to say. I just looked at his body as blood pooled around him on the floor from the gaping wound in his head. Vidala stood behind him with the smoking pistol in her hoof. She was soaking wet and limped towards me. She was furious and exhausted. The house was really playing tricks on my mind for the past few rooms but whatever she had seen, was far more physically taxing. Tears welled up. Why couldn’t we have let him live I wanted to say. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

“He was the door.” She said reading my expression. I turned around to the direction she was gesturing and there was the large golden 9 screwed to an oak door.

“He’s not the real Onyx. The real Onyx is the management. He was probably going to talk you into killing yourself with this.” She tossed the pistol toward me and I caught it. The barrel was still warm from the bullet she put through Onyx… The Onyx that had disappeared…. the blood and brains as well. I looked over the gun to find another note. “Don’t be afraid. With love, Management”

“With Love? Want to explain something to me about your relationship with Onyx?”

I swallowed hard. This wasn’t like last time. Management was helping me. Management wanted to let me leave… Something changed.

“No I wouldn’t. You want to explain where you went to?”

“You mean after you abandoned me?”

“Look I just want Belle and to get out of the house. Whatever happened to you I thought you were dead. ” She stared at me. Anger in her eyes and I stared right back unblinking. I didn’t give a shit where she’d actually been. I was at room 9 and she had done what she needed to.

“…Just get me my bucking house back and get out.”

We walked into the lobby. On the table again was a letter that read

Congratulations. But we didn’t take the exit. We walked right past the front desk and to the door to room 1 which now had a metal plaque that read “Management.” The door opened with a click and we stepped into the room.

In the center of the room was a desk. All walls surrounding it had large windows showing the outside of the house. And sitting behind the desk, was Belle. On her chest was pinned “Management.”

“Is that her?…. the real her?”

Vidala nodded in disbelief. I ran to Belle’s side. I grabbed a hold of her shoulders and turned her towards me. She was in some kind of trance. She just stared straight ahead. I shook her a bit trying to break her free.

“Belle?… Belle is that you? Please…. Please be ok?” I grabbed ahold of that accursed management pin and threw it across the room. It wanted the house to be as far away from us as it could be. Finally, her eyes focused. She was coming too. I knelt next to her and looked into her eyes, brushed the hair out of her face so she could see me clearly. “Belle. It’s ok I’ve got you now we can go home.”

“No! Not real! NOT REAL” She was hysterical. Her arms were like hurricanes, she punched herself away from me. She cowered into the corner screaming.

“Belle it’s me! I swear it’s me!” I was confused. I looked back to Vidala there was something wrong. Vidala bent down and picked up the pin that I had thrown. She turned it over in her hands eying it like it was solid gold. She slowly placed it onto her shirt.

“You didnt… I dont believe it you actually killed him? You’re the new management?”

I looked back to Belle sobbing in the corner and looking towards the windows. My hoof moved over the tag on the gun again. She was management?

Belle saw me leave the house. Belle saw me use the service entrance. Belle saw me enter room one. She saw me dive into the pool. She saw me drive to my house. She watched me waiver and come back for her. She watched the false Onyx died. She watched me walk into the management office. She was watching as I looked at the pistol in front of her. She saw me reaching for her.

Belle’s tears ran down her face and looked back towards me screaming and scratching at my arm.

“You’re not real! You’re not real!” I pulled my arm back before she could mess me up further.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She broke. The house wins. That’s what always happens. The house wins. She was never ready to power the house. ONyx couldn’t either. Not like I could.” Vidala pinned the badge to her chest and smiles. “Onyx was right. He was right all this time… the power in this house it’s… intoxicating…. This is my house.”

“You have your house back. You can fix her! You have what you want now give me what I want. Let me and Belle escape. I helped you. Help me.”

“You want to get out with Belle…? Ok.”

Vidala raised her hand pointing in Belle's direction again. Belle screamed and grasped at her head. She looked back up at the two standing in the office and I was horrified to see the word “Exit” scratched into the skin of her forehead.

“No. You can’t do that!”

“If you want out of the house, this is the only way! You know the rules. You face a trial to go through a door. This is your trial. Shoot her Felix. Set her free and get out of my house.”

“I won’t do that! This isn’t fair!”

“When has this house been fair? If you want out, then open the door. Do you want to really leave with her like this? Suffering? Crazy? She could never have a normal life again Felix.”

I couldn’t do that to her. Belle was sobbing and I was holding the pistol in my hoof. The weight of the gun becoming greater with each passing second. My grip on the gun tightened and I aimed the barrel at Vidala. “Let us out…. or I’ll kill you.”

Mockingly, Vidala smiled back at me. “And then You’ll be management. You aren’t special Felix. Not like me! Never even like Onyx. And then YOU will be trapped here. Forever. With her. The house will make you just as crazy as that little bitch of yours….Leave Felix. How long have you been in the house? I’m sure you want out as badly as she does and she’s practically asking you to kill her! There’s nothing for you here. There’s nothing for HER here. Kill her Felix. End the suffering for her. She needs it.”

Vidala can’t be right. There must me another way out of this room. I looked to the windows. They were outside weren’t they? The doorway came through must have been locked but I could break the windows. I knew I could get out of here. I moved my hoof to point the gun at the windows but I couldn’t stop myself. The gun pointed directly at Belle. I pulled my arm in the other direction and my body betrayed me again. The gun was pointed at Vidala. The house was bucking with me again. She was right. I only had one choice left… I lowered the gun to my side.

“I’m sorry Belle."

“You’re doing the right thing Felix.”

I pulled the trigger again.






















“I’m sorry Belle….. I’m so sorry…… but now that I’m management…. we don’t have to be apart anymore…. We’ll be here together…. forever.”

Hearth's Warming Eve

I could never sleep well in hotels.  I guess that's sort of an understatement; I can never sleep well in general, but hotels were the worst.

Just the thought that the previous occupant of this bed is a complete stranger was repulsive in my mind, but that’s beside the point.

What I’m getting at is how this lack of sleep in hotels changed my life.  Hearth's Warming Eve, we were spending Hearth's Warming Eve in a crappy hotel and not with family.  Great.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I didn’t enjoy the all you can eat buffet of soggy hash browns and grits for Christmas Eve dinner.

Of course the first snow of the season had to cancel our trip to Manehattan. It was Hearth's Warming Eve and I was trying to sleep in this bleach saturated room; my minds wandering, wondering what happened in here to cause such an excessive amount of bleach needed.

The room was nothing out of the ordinary: two beds, one for me and my dad and another for my sister and mom, a bathroom, and a stained microwave that looked in need of a good dusting. Somehow I escaped the room (and stench of bleach) into a dreamless sleep. Waking up, I could tell it was early morning, my dad was next to me snoring and he usually wakes up before 4 am.

That’s when it hit me.  It’s Hearth's Warming Eve, and I was about to let this bad fortune ruin my favorite holiday.

Looking across the bed at the clock to check the time is when I noticed it: The silhouette of a stallion about 6’3 across the room staring at my mom while she was sleeping.  Still half asleep and caught up in the moment I couldn’t help thinking of Santa Hooves.

I realized how stupid the thought was and horror soon filled my head.  I choked back a shriek.  I knew I couldn’t let him see me awake so I quietly put my head back down pretending to sleep. My mind was racing.  Somepony was in my room and I couldn’t do anything; I was scrawny sixteen year old, this stallion looked built like an ox.

I wondered if I could wake my dad up in time but I knew that wouldn’t work, he slept like a rock; a bucket of water couldn’t get him up fast enough. I was practically in tears; I’d never felt so helpless. For a second time I choked back a scream. He was standing next to me, I could feel and hear his repulsive breath on my face; it smelled like he’d been eating rotten meat for a week now with no thought to brush his teeth. If he didn’t know I was awake surely he did now, seeing my face was contorted in fear.

The breathing stopped and I couldn’t help the sigh of relief; I would've kicked myself but there was no need, I heard the room door open and close. I launched out of bed. Nothing in the room was in disarray and my family was still asleep. That couldn’t have been a dream, I couldn’t have imagined it. Feeling awake as ever a horrible idea popped into my head and before I could push it away I was pulling the door open.

Glancing back to the door in order to memorize the room number I saw the giant spray-painted black ‘X’ on the door. Had I seen this without the prior experience I probably would’ve thought it was just some stupid kids, I knew better, but not enough to know what it was for.

My heart skipped a beat.  There he was, turning the corner at the end of the hall, ‘Why am I doing this?’ I tailed him down to the parking lot, he was nowhere in sight; one moment he’s walking out the lobby, the next he’s gone. Realizing how cold it is outside in paper-thin pajamas, I returned to the lobby. No one was around.  Strange.  I could swear there’s usually a night concierge.

The adrenaline was wearing off.  I realized how stupid and rash my actions had been.  He could have killed me.  I cursed myself back up the stairs.  I knew something was wrong when I got to my floor. The door to my room was wide open, ‘I hadn’t left it that way, right?’

I walked inside and after a quick search of the room I determined it safe and my family was still asleep.  I locked the door and got back into bed though I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.  I listened to my dad get up and eventually my mom followed but I still pretended to sleep.

A few hours passed and my parents got my sister and I up, we got into the car, and made our way back to the airport.  Digging through my bag to grab a book led to the finding of something that hadn’t been in there the previous day.

A note that simply held the five words.  I still think about to this day, “I knew you were awake.” It’s now been two months since the hotel experience, I’m still scared for my life and it gets worse every day. That note I found wasn’t the only one; I still receive them.

Ice

My roommate Derpy is ridiculously clumsy.  Poor thing.  She trips, stumbles, and breaks things all the time.  And, bless her heart, she's terrible at cleaning up.  I suppose it's not her fault.  It was probably that fall when she was a filly.  Nopony could have fixed her eyes.  

"Don't worry!" She shouted down the hall towards my room. I had heard the crash in the kitchen and was getting up to investigate.

"What happened?" I hollered back.

Apparently she'd broken a glass on the shelf.

"I'm cleaning it up!" She announced.  I didn't even give it a second thought and went back to my show.  When it was on commercial, I got up to get a drink.  I grabbed my favorite glass, a blue tinted mason jar, out of the cabinet and poured myself a large glass of sweet tea.

I don't know why everypony I know hates this stuff.  They don't know what they're missing!  I thought to myself, swallowing another chunk of ice.  As I crunched it between my teeth, a terrible realization struck me.

I didn't get any ice.

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Creepyponies

Mature Rated Fiction

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