Monday, Wednesday and Friday were the days there was photography class after school. Apple Bloom had gotten a brand new roll of film from Cheerilee and had just two days to fill it up before their first Friday lab. With the camera strapped around her neck, she made her way around the farm, taking pictures of anything that struck her fancy as she did her chores. She was wary to keep the device out of sight whenever she walked by Granny who sat veggitating on the porch. It wasn't too difficult with her awareness and mobility being shadows of their former selves.

Apple Bloom gazed through the viewfinder, trying to frame an upshot of the farm's rickety windmill against the sky. She heard a whisper in her ear and started at the sound. She pulled the camera away and looked all around her but there was no one there. Was that the wind, she wondered, rubbing her ears. It didn't sound like it but what else would it be?

She snapped the photo looking up at the windmill with a lens flare glaring across a sky of textured clouds as the whispers returned. They stopped when she looked up from the camera and once again she found nothing and no one in sight.

When her chores were finished and she had about eight frames left on her roll, Apple Bloom returned to the attic to look around for more camera stuff. Now having a working knowledge of the hobby, she was able to recognize a tripod and a shutter release bulb amongst the clutter, both important tools for taking long exposure photos. She helped herself to the equipment and stowed it in her bedroom closet.

Suddenly realizing how late it was getting, Apple Bloom went to investigate the kitchen only to find an unusual lack of activity for that time of the day. She was always eager for dinner. Not only was she usually hungry by now, it was also the only meal anymore that had taste and variety.

Granny sat alone at the table, doing nothing in particular as usual. The filly anxiously backed out of the room and called for her sister. She wandered back up the stairs. The sound of muffled retching met her ears at the landing.

Apple Bloom pushed Applejack's door open. She found her sitting on the floor of the bathroom, heaving with her head over the toilet.

"Applejack? Are ya sick?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah," panted Applejack weakly before spitting into the bowl.

A weird thought came to Apple Bloom to take a picture of her sister throwing up in the toilet even though she didn't have her camera with her. She frowned, wondering why such a thing would cross her mind. That's gross and AJ would probably get angry at me, she thought. "It's supper time," she blurted, trying to distract herself from the idea.

"What?" groaned Applejack. "What time is it?

"Almost eight."

"Aw, shoot. Ah'm sorry." She flushed the toilet but continued sitting dazedly on the floor, hunched forward, breathing heavily. It was clear she was struggling to muster the strength to get up or maybe she was unsure how safe it was to leave the bathroom.

"Ah can just find somethin' er tell Big-"

"No, Ah'll be there in just a minute," replied Applejack, grimacing as she stood.

---

The day before lab, Rumble and Apple Bloom were both looking to finish off their rolls somewhere more interesting than their houses. The Cutie Mark Crusaders concurred that a trip to the old quarry would be perfect.

Scootaloo hurled a stone over the side of the massive pit and the four foals watched it plummet for a good three seconds before it hit the mirror like water below with the tiniest, most distant plunk.

"You know there's a ton of bodies down there," mused Rumble, advancing his film to the next frame. He'd caught a high speed action still of the throw.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "There is not."

"Define 'a ton,'" asked Apple Bloom, intrigued.

"No, it's true," he continued. "This place is permanently abandoned, it's never gonna drain and it's hard to get down there and check things out. It's a great spot to dump dead bodies. The mafia does that kind of stuff all the time. They put cement blocks around your hooves and then toss you in the water. You sink down and never come back up again, even when your body bloats and fills with gas."

Sweetie Belle grimaced in disgust. "Eew."

"There's no Mafia out here," scoffed Scootaloo. "That kind of stuff only happens in the big city."

Rumble cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe. But there've been serial killers in this area."

Sweetie Belle's eyes grew huge. "There have?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Well not like recently but there's a lot of victims they never found and ponies still go missing all the time. My brother knew one of the girls who disappeared before they caught the Westend Killer. They found her hair and a bunch of other souvenirs from other missing ponies in his apartment but he never told where the bodies were."

"That still doesn't mean she or any other bodies are down there," argued Scootaloo stubbornly.

Sweetie Belle, cautiously crawled on her barrel across the ground and rested her chin on the cliff edge to peer straight down the rock face to the deep, placid water. "There's totally bodies down there," she rebutted adamantly.

"And you will join them," snarled Scootaloo, pouncing on Sweetie's back and tickling her sides. Sweetie's scream echoed across the immense crater.

Apple Bloom snapped a picture of their tussle. Then she looked down over the cliff side too with her camera. The height gave her a vertigo spell and she wobbly shrank back from the edge.

"That was scary," cried Sweetie Belle, stumbling to her hooves, dirt now staining her white coat. "I literally almost died."

"You couldn't even move with me pinning you down," laughed Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom framed them in the viewfinder but then scanned over to Rumble in the background to see that he was doing the same thing as her, almost like a mirror reflection. She heard strange whispering again that could only be coming from inside her head. The two looked up from behind their cameras and their eyes met. Rumble smiled weakly back at her and then looked down, pretending to adjust his shutter speed.

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