The moon shined through the windows of the creaking house. Every sound, every crackle in the air was like thunder booming in her ears. They came from all around her, ticking and tocking, banging and snapping, like a series of clock pendulums that followed her every step. Her heart pounded against her chest as her breathing became faster. The squeaking of the floor beneath her did nothing to calm her nerves. She felt her knees buckle every time she heard a creak beneath her hooves.

It was only minutes ago that a "thing," as Scootaloo called it, had chased her into a laundry room. She managed to hide from it, but it was still out there, somewhere, whatever it was. It could find Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and the adults. She needed to find them first.

She tiptoed around the hallway, keeping her hooves as quiet as she could. She measured every step, gently placing a hoof against the wooden floor, desperately making sure not to make a sound. The noise around her was already making her uneasy, and she didn’t want to add to it. However, her attention would slip once or twice, causing her to trot casually as if nothing was wrong.

Once the sound of a clop hit the air, her body froze as her head looked around. She examined the hallway, looking down as far as she could. The dark hall made it difficult for her eyes to spot anything in the distance. She perked her ears up, trying to focus her hearing through the noise in her head and all around her. She thought she had heard another hoof step. It was only for a moment, but she could have sworn there was somepony else.

Her heart began to pound again. What if it’s him?!

She nearly screamed, but the cry was silenced, like something had wrapped around her throat to keep her from screaming for help. Her ears opened up again, trying to pick out the sound. She waited in the hallway, ears focused on any sound that would be picked up. However, for several minutes nothing came except the usual sounds that surrounded the hallway.

Scootaloo took a deep breath. Just my mind playing tricks on me. She turned around and continued down the hallway, passing several doors as she slowly marched through.

Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, dreading the moment she would run into the mysterious stallion. She shook her head, trying to banish him from her mind, but how could she? His cold stare as he looked upon her with those blank yellow eyes, glaring at her as if she was some immoral thing. It had the shape of a pony, but that’s all it seemed to have.

Maybe if I can get out of here, I can get help! Scootaloo thought. She looked down the hallway, daring to trot into that darkened area where only a few feet in front of her was visible. Her ears focused intently on the hallway, listening to whatever sounds that might give away the thing following her. She received only silence. Not a creak, not a clop, not a single sound. Scootaloo wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but she had a job to do regardless. She put one hoof in front of the other, making her way steadily down the hallway.

The hallway seemed a lot longer than when she had previously walked it. In fact, it seemed to be growing longer and longer with each passing step, as if it wanted her to never leave. But that couldn’t be. Could it? Scootaloo wondered. As the darkness swallowed her, she thought about running down the hall, just to escape the darkness. But what if the stallion heard her? He would hunt her down like an animal... and if he caught her… Scootaloo tried not to think about it.

Instead, she focused on the hallway.

As she moved through the darkness and back into the hall, she came upon a familiar room. She peered inside the room and saw it was the room that Mrs. Winter had set up for them. The luggage from the floor was missing. Every scrap of clothing was gone. Every tool, book, or picture she or her friends had brought had been taken out of the room, with no evidence of where they could have gone. Could the stallion had taken them? If so, why? Why would a killer need their stuff?

Scootaloo decided to ignore it. She continued down the hall, coming to the row of statues. They seemed more frightening this time, as if they were watching her as she passed. She couldn’t help but glance up at them, only to turn her gaze back down the hall a second later.

Every time she looked up at the child lying in the statue’s hooves, she couldn’t help but feel that there was something familiar about them... something very familiar. She thought it was just her nerves getting to her, but she knew she had seen that face before.

She kept moving until she finally came upon the staircase. She almost cheered for joy as excitement filled her body, but her nerves seemed to stop her, as if it were a reminder that there was still somepony out there who wanted to kill her. A reminder that she was all too grateful for.

Stepping down the stairs one at a time, Scootaloo carefully monitored every movement she took, trying her hardest not to make a sound. The stairs were so creaky that it was impossible to do so, unless you could fly down. However, her wings wouldn’t let her; even if she could, she imagined she would be no better than Fluttershy trying to fly in this situation. Her wings clamped against her body like a vice, as if they were afraid to leave her side. If they were separate living entities, Scootaloo wouldn’t have blamed them.

She made her way down the last step and to the main hall, where she had last seen everypony. The room was exactly as it was before. The sofas still looked as inviting and as comfortable as ever. It gave her the illusion that she was safe, but she knew the truth: she wasn’t safe, not even close. And unless she found her friends, neither were they. The only way she knew she could help them is if she found help. Maybe I can find Rainbow Dash or Princess Twilight! Or Princess Luna! Her hooves couldn’t help but rush to the doorway. Placing herself in front of it, she grabbed the handle tightly and pulled.

The door refused to move. Again, she pulled as hard as she could, letting out a small grunt. The barrier in front of her was immovable. She let go of the door knob. Locked! I should have known!

She grasped the door handle once more, pulling with all her might. Again, nothing came from it. She threw herself against the door, but it didn’t seem to budge. Instead, her side began to tingle in pain. This door was much heavier than the one for their room, and after a few moments, she gave up on her efforts. Getting through was impossible.

Scootaloo looked to her left and spotted a nearby window. Maybe I can get out through one of the windows. She thought as she made her way to the windowsill. Spots of dirt clung to the outside of the glass, much like a stain on a carpet. Even before setting her eyes on the dirt stained windows, her heart sank. Metallic bars stretched all across the inside of the window, like a cage. She was locked in here, as if she as some sort of criminal.

She wrapped her hooves around the metal bars and pulled with all her might. Grunts filled the air as she continued to struggle against the metallic bars that kept her trapped. However, after a few moments, the bars stood as firm as ever, and Scootaloo gave up.

There didn’t seem to be any hope for escape. Her heart raced as the realization hit her: she was stuck in here with a killer. Tears streamed down her face. She sunk to her knees and let out a soft squeak, as she whimpered in the dark. What if I die in here?! I’ll never see my mom again. Or Rainbow Dash. The horror within her caused to curl up on the ground, unable to do anything but weep.

Moments passed as her whimpering filled the entryway around her. She wasn’t sure how long she had been crying, nor how much time had passed since she lost track of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. All she knew was that she needed to find them. If nothing else, she wouldn't be alone anymore.

She picked herself up off the ground, wiping the tears from her eyes, and up the stairs she went. The various clicks and ticks of the house assaulted her ears once more. They caused her to jump or glance in the direction of their source, but there was nothing there. She wasn’t sure if she was comforted by that or even more frightened by it.

On the one hoof, she knew that the stallion was not where she was afraid he was. On the other, she still had no idea where he could be. Which frightened her more? The seen killer or the unseen one?

As she continued down another hallway, rows upon rows of doors tempted her with rooms to search. She thought about entering them, hoping to find clues as to where her friends were. Admittedly, her fears got the better of her. She was constantly afraid that if she opened a door something or somepony would spring out and cut her open. Maybe it was just her nerves getting the better of her, but she wasn't about to take the risk.

A screeching sound hit her ear as she passed by one of the rooms. She stopped for a moment, paralyzed. Her ears perked up again, listening intently for any sound that came from the room. There was no other sound, but the room was enticing, like Scootaloo was being drawn to it. She glanced over at the door. It was unlike any of the doors in the building. Instead of the standard brown door with nothing to distinguish it from the others, this one was a bright blue with white clouds painted on it.

As she continued to examine the door, she noticed more wear on it than any other. Scratch marks were embedded deep into the wood, breaking the illusion the painting was trying to portray. Cracks were scattered throughout, as if something heavy had hit it. Scootaloo reached for the door knob.

What am I doing? I need to get out of here! She paused. Maybe she was right. She couldn’t open that door. However, her thoughts went back to the front door and the windows. She was trapped, and there was no way to escape. There was only finding everypony else and hoping they might have an idea. Ignoring a voice in the back of her head, desperately crying out to her to run away from the door as fast as she could, she turned the door knob and pushed the door open.

It creaked as the room slowly revealed itself. There were various garments scattered across the floor, some ruffled and thrown in a pile, others torn to pieces. Toys littered the floor; tops, yo-yos, paddle balls, dolls, building blocks and dinosaur playthings were strewn all over as if they were simply thrown about. Some of them looked damaged. She saw yo-yos that were broken in half, dolls and dinosaurs missing body parts...

She looked over at the small bed at the other side of the room.

Placing one hoof in front of the other, treading carefully through the maze of toys and clothes, she made her way to the bedside. At the top and bottom of the bed frames were long chains and shackles, short enough to restrain any pony trapped within its grip. The wooden frame looked as if the shackles had rubbed against it for years. Most, if not all, the paint was completely wiped away, and wooden splinters stuck out like the needles on a cactus. Near the center of the wooden pole, where the shackle had to have had the most contact, she saw that the pole was slightly thinner than the others. It was as if the shackle was rubbed against it for a long time.

Who would do this to somepony? Scootaloo wondered. She looked down towards the bed. It was an awful mess: the pillow was nowhere to be found and the blanket was tied in a knot. The smell of urine and blood came to her nostrils as she lowered her head to the various red and yellow spots that traveled up and down it. She pulled her face away, gagging.

When she recovered, she looked back towards the bed. Puncture marks were scattered all across the bed, red marks around and inside them. It was as if the mattress itself was bleeding.

Her mind filled with terror, and she swore she could hear the cries of some frightened pony struggling and screaming against the restraints. In an attempt to keep her mind off of the image, she focused on another part of the room. Scratches were scattered all across the wall, digging into the bright blue paint and offsetting the horrid scene around her. It was like it was trying to hide something with its bright colors and pleasant images of clouds and flowers.

However, anypony could see that it did nothing. There were cracks in the walls, as if something was pounding against it, and paint scraped off the walls revealed their original dull brown color. Scootaloo took in every detail her eyes could pick up. This was a child’s room.

She looked back at the bed. The smell reminded her of why she looked away as it continued its attack on her nostrils. She took in a deep breath and held it, hoping to dispel the smell for a short time. She had not noticed how small the bed was before. It was a bed she could easily crawl into, a bed that would just fit someone her size. This bed was used on a child... and so were the restraints.

Why? What pony could do this?

Her heart pounded against her chest as she took a step back. Suddenly, something slammed at the door behind her. She leapt forward in terror, a screech coming from her lungs. She listened at the door as another slam shook it.

There was another slam, almost causing the entire room to quake. It was then that she realized who it was. Her heart thundered against her chest as her breaths became more and more rapid, and her mind found it difficult to catch up with her body. By the time her she had thought to go to the door in the back of the room, she found her body was already there. She turned her head for a second and saw the horrid face of the stallion slowly inching towards her, the knife in his hoof.

For her, it might as well have have been a lifetime. His yellow eyes pierced into her violet ones, as if they were looking straight through her. It petrified her. Her mind went completely blank. Before she knew it, she found herself outside another hallway, a door closed behind her. The door vibrated with a loud crack, as if the stallion behind her was smashing his body against it.

Scootaloo looked around her, seeing another open door. After another thunderous crash echoed from the room behind her, Scootaloo sprinted down the hall and through the door. She found herself in what she thought was a small office. There was a desk, but it was too small for her to scrunch under and hope to be safe. There was a curtain, but she was afraid her hooves would stick out and she would be seen. Finally, she spied a closet. She rushed over and shut herself inside.

She slithered behind a set of jackets hung all in a row, creating an imaginary barrier against the stallion. She looked through a small crack in the door, wondering if the stallion was coming. As she examined the room once more, she noticed the door had been left wide open. She almost made a move to close and lock it. However, as a single hoof appeared in the room, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her lungs stopped moving, for fear that even a single breath would lead to her doom.

She couldn't take her eyes off the room, not even for a second. The stallion scanned the room as he limped inside.

He walked up and down the room, occasionally turning his head. Moments passed as the stallion moved back and forth.. back and forth... back and forth. Scootaloo remained as still as possible, but her heart roared in her chest, as if demanding that she make a run for it. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to burst from the closet and run as fast as she could while he wasn’t looking. She wasn’t sure how far she would make it.

The stallion suddenly turned around and limped his way to the hallway. Scootaloo breathed a sigh of relief as she watched her attacker slip behind the doorway. She lightly tapped her head back against the closet, taking in another sigh of relief. Suddenly, something fluttered in front of her, and she let out a scream.

The sound of the stallion’s hoofsteps then reached the room once more. He stepped inside once more, looking for the source of that sound. She backed into the corner of the closet, keeping her eyes focused on the small crack. Shivering, she curled up into a ball, tears running down her face.

It took all her strength to keep from whimpering or making a sound. She caught the stallion giving a quick glance under the desk across from her. This is my chance! I’ve got to run! Her mind screamed at her. She instinctively placed her hoof over her mouth, as if she had said it out loud. She wasn't sure why she thought that. Perhaps her fear was winning out.

Gathering her willpower, she had started to her feet when he suddenly turned around, his horrible eyes aimed straight at the closet. Did he hear me?! Did he see me?! She once again curled up in a ball, tears coming down her face faster than ever now. She wanted to whimper, wanted to cry out for somepony to save her. Why not? If I don’t, I’m dead. That thought shattered every thought in her mind. I’m going to die… She repeated to herself. She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

She thought about her mother. A mother who would take her in her hooves and give her warm hugs. A mare who would comfort her when she was scared or angry. The gentle whisper of her voice was overpowered by the clopping of his hooves on the floorboard. They were like thunderbolts striking into her mind, as if to cut her down.

Celestia, please help me! She begged, knowing that she might be her only hope for any kind of salvation.

A cracking sound echoed through the room, and Scootaloo feared it might have originated from her spot. However, the stallion had turned away from the closet. Silence filled the air around them until another crackle was heard. Scootaloo’s ears focused enough to realize that it was coming from the hallway. Something was just outside. The stallion slithered into the hallway, disappearing behind the door.

Scootaloo wasn't sure how much time had passed. Moments felt like hours. She dared not move a muscle, nor make a sound, nor even breathe. It was as if all her bodily functions had shut down for fear of attracting his attention. The only exception was her heart, which felt as if it was traveling at a thousand miles per hour. With a pair of wings, it could perform its own Sonic Rainboom.

Finally, Scootaloo slithered onto the ground, tears soaking her cheeks. She whimpered, as she thought about Rainbow Dash. What would she have done if she was in her position? Rainbow Dash probably could have fought back, found her friends, and gotten out alive. But not Scootaloo. She was too frightened. Anytime she wanted to fight back, her courage failed her. She imagined what Rainbow Dash might say if she found out she was a coward.

She could almost hear her voice saying that she wanted nothing to do with her. Saying that being afraid was “uncool”. However, a small ray of hope shined in her memories, unearthing the first moment Rainbow Dash took her in as not only her pupil, but as a surrogate sister. She closed her eyes and looked back at that moment.

“First time, I heard those stories… I got scared too.”

The first time she heard those words, Scootaloo was convinced, more than ever, that Rainbow Dash was the best pony in all the world. There was nothing that could stop her. Those words made her feel a little better. The memory helped her feel safe.

However, at the same time, this realization made the pain more unsettling... the fear more unnerving. This wasn't some spooky story that Rainbow Dash told by a campfire to make everypony listen twice to everything around them. This was real. Somepony, out in this house, wanted to kill her. The image of her surrogate sister was replaced by his eyes, eyes that were so full of hate and anger...

Why does it want to kill me? Scootaloo whimpered, as tears continued to roll down her face. I haven’t done anything to anypony. She accidentally let out a small cry and didn't even notice. A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions plagued her, causing her to doubt everything she once believed in. Was this some sort of punishment for some past crime? What crime could she had committed that could possibly justify her murder? Maybe it was just a cruelty beyond her imagination.

She opened her eyes, the salty tears still drenching her face. At the foot of the cabinet was a folded piece of paper. She thought back to a few moments ago... the moment where she was nearly killed because something jumped out at her at the most inopportune time. Stupid paper, she screamed. She picked it up, wondering what was so important about it. She slowly unfolded it and started from the top.

“My name is Doctor Viridian.

If anypony is reading this… It means that I have failed. I failed to kill the child that I have unleashed upon the world. No… it is not a child. It is a monster. I have unleashed a horrible monster onto the world and it will kill everything it comes across.

It has no reason to hate. It simply does. This was proven to me even at his young age. It was or rather, still is, incredibly violent. It is destructive. It scratches up his room, breaks his toys, and intentionally hurts other ponies.

I’ve tried to reason with it, but it grows even more violent... more aggressive... more unstable. Its mother won’t lift a hoof to stop it. She claims that I am not thinking rationally. But you must believe me when I tell you... it has to die.

If I have succeeded than this note will be destroyed, but if you are reading it, then I have failed. You, who are reading this, must kill it. You have to. You must save the world from its evil.

Save the world

Save the world

Save the-”

Scootaloo stopped reading and looked down where Viridian’s ‘save the world’ was written several more times. It was scribbled all over the page, in the margins, even on the back. Ink was scratched across the back of the page so thick it was illegible. Whoever this Dr. Viridian was, he seemed as scared as she was. The question was why? What kind of monster could this thing have been if it had terrified its father so much?

Scootaloo closed her eyes, took a slow, deep breath, then let it out. She repeated the process, trying to clear her mind.

She had to stay focused. As tempting as it was, panicking had done her no good thus far. She had to think. What would Rainbow Dash do?

Rainbow Dash would just charge and use her speed to kick that pony’s flank all the way into next Tuesday. Rainbow Dash would fight it and win.

She was not Rainbow Dash, however. As much as she would like to, she couldn't just fight her way through the situation. There was nothing she could do. What could she do?

As if her mind was trying to find her an answer, a memory began to play before her. It was the night where they had camped out in the woods. The night Rainbow Dash officially took her under her wing. They were making their way back to the campsite. Scootaloo looked up to her mentor as she returned her glance with a smile. Scootaloo bit her lip as she gathered what courage she could to ask Rainbow Dash an important question, one that had lingered in her mind for quite some time. "Um... Rainbow Dash?"

Her mentor turned her head. "What's up?"

Scootaloo stopped and fiddled with a rock on the ground, as if trying to distract herself from the conversation she was about to bring up. She silently scolded herself for being a coward. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth. "I know you said you got scared of those stories, but..." Scootaloo paused, not sure where to continue with her question. She didn't know if she would receive the answer she wanted. All she knew was that the question lingered in her mind, like a cat desperate for food, and it would not leave until it had its fill.

"Have you ever been scared before?" Rainbow Dash raised her eyebrow. "I mean, really scared. Like so afraid, that you wouldn't be able to do anything." She didn't want to say anything about flying. She didn't want Rainbow Dash to know that she might never be able to join her mentor in the sky. She wanted to believe that there was some hope that would grant her wings the ability to take off. But somehow, she knew it was futile.

Rainbow Dash made her way to Scootaloo's side and placed her hoof on her shoulder. Their eyes met for a moment as Rainbow Dash smiled. "I used to be." Scootaloo was silent and still, hanging on every word Rainbow Dash spoke. "Remember when I told you about my first Sonic Rainboom?"

Scootaloo nodded. How could she forget? It was the coolest moment of her life. The pony she looked up to, more than anypony, was the only one who could perform the legendary Sonic Rainboom. She screamed with delight after hearing that news.

"Well, I was scared I wouldn't be able to do it."

No way! Scootaloo thought to herself. She couldn't find the voice to say it. Instead, she kept on listening.

"I was afraid I was going to blow it and ruin my chances of becoming a Wonderbolt. The pressure, kind of, sort of, got to me."

"What happened?"

"Well, you heard about how I saved Rarity with that Sonic Rainboom, right?"

Scootaloo nodded. In another moment that impressed her more than anything, Rainbow Dash not only performed the Sonic Rainboom, but saved Rarity and the Wonderbolts in the process. Scootaloo was shocked beyond words when they didn't make her a Wonderbolt on the spot. "Yeah, how did you do it?"

Rainbow Dash gave a nervous smile and rubbed the back of her head. "The truth is." A beat passed. "I don't really know."

Scootaloo looked down towards the ground, not expecting that kind of answer. However, much to her delight, Rainbow Dash continued. "I just saw Rarity in trouble. I knew I had to do whatever it took to save her. I guess my mind and body just did what it needed to do to save my friend."

Scootaloo looked up and tilted her head. "But I thought you said you were scared."

Rainbow Dash gave a nervous smile and glanced around her as if somepony was paying attention. "No, not scared. Nervous maybe, but not scared." She shook her head and smiled. "The point is, I just, I don't know, didn't see how scared I was once Rarity was in trouble. All I saw was that I needed to protect my friends, whatever it took."

As the memory began to fade, Scootaloo begged for it to come back. She wanted to be comforted by images of her mother, her friends, her Rainbow Dash... anything to escape the house of horrors she found herself in. Anything to forget that she was locked inside a closet waiting for a killer to find her. She curled up in a ball as more tears began to fall. She tried to look beyond her fear, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw a pair of dead yellow eyes staring straight back at her.