Apple Bloom’s mind went into a blissful paradise, a dreamy expression plastered on her face, satisfaction drifting across her features. The demons inside rested from driving their slave, laying their whips on the floor, choosing to reward their devoted minion with rest and happiness before they could put her to her gruelling and tiresome work again. She felt the reassuring weight of her saddlebag on her side, the pieces of skin folded up neatly inside. After no discussion, Apple Bloom had been given the first bounty of their harvest, to do with whatever she wanted. She interrupted her state with one of worry – what if Twist’s parents realised when their little filly didn’t come back home? Apple Bloom’s mind filled with what ifs, but her eyes narrowed and her mouth twitched into a mischievous smile as she answered her own questions. Her eyes darted to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, who were both silently trudging down the cobbled pavement, back to the clubhouse.

“Stop!” she barked, sending the two other fillies skidding at the sudden sound in their otherwise silent void.

Sweetie Belle looked at the yellow filly, her expression incredulous.

“Yes?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“We have to go to Twist’s house.” Apple Bloom’s voice dropped from a yell to a whisper, the corners of her mouth twitching further up as her inner demons inquisitively wrapped their hands around their whips. “We have to get her parents out.”

Scootaloo overheard the whisper, the hint of more danger beckoning, carrying on the breeze from Apple Bloom’s lips. Her ears pointed back, her features creasing with reluctance and worry at the thought of initiating another event that could lose someponies’ life. She looked up at Apple Bloom’s eyes again, still searching for just that one spark, that one thread to cling on to, that one remainder of her friend, but she came up with nothing. She looked down and stayed silent, her worry muting her usually brash, confident and humorous voice.

“We’ll blackmail them. Go to their house, show them the body. Tell them they have got to leave, otherwise they’ll get the same treatment. Sever their phone lines, so they can’t contact the royal guards. Simple.” Apple Bloom chuckled, the grin on her face as if she were talking about making Zap apple jam.

Sweetie and Scootaloo simply nodded in agreement, not looking Apple Bloom in the eye.

“Settled, then.” She drawled, sashaying towards Sweet Apple Acres, her carmine red mane swishing and bobbing. “Tonight, at midnight. At Twist’s house. You guys just be there – I’ll bring everything.”

Scootaloo gulped quietly, nodding timidly at Apple Bloom’s foreign accent. She looked up sharply and mumbled something along the lines of ‘gottaflyseeyouguyslater’ and galloped away, trying to blink back the prick of guilty tears. Sweetie Belle looked at her lingering figure until she couldn’t see her any longer, and then looked back to Apple Bloom.

“I guess I’ll see you there then. Midnight.” She said, over her shoulder. She too walked off into the slowly setting sun, leaving Apple Bloom to herself. She smiled inwardly and ran to the barn, to gather all her supplies.

---

Apple Bloom prised the lid off a wooden barrel, grunting slightly under the strain. She finally managed to pull it off with a pop, and inhaled deeply when the sickening smell rose into her nostrils – decaying flesh. She licked her lips and reached down into the depths of the wooden container, using her forelegs to dreg up the bloody, bruised and cut up corpse. The mane still lingered on the flesh, knotted, matted and dirty, but still unmistakably red and curly. Apple Bloom delved further into the barrel, scraping past parts of cut up flesh and organs until her hoof came into contact with plastic and glass – Twist’s frames. She grabbed them and balanced them on the mangled face, silently looking up into the deadpan, open eyes of her victim.  Crusted tears rimmed the expressionless orbs, black pupils dull, even the light rose ring around them faded. Apple Bloom simply dropped the corpse and pushed it away, the demons inside her wrenching away remorse and throwing cold indifference into her heart. She took a hessian sack, abandoned in the corner of the unused barn, and stuffed the body into it numbly, and threw a large knife into the flesh. She coiled up a rope and pushed it in with a flourish. She was ready.

---

Apple Bloom slunk into the night, the shimmer of Princess Luna’s moon gliding over her face, which was set with a grim determination, her eyes steely and her jaw clenched. She dragged the heavy bag across her shoulder, her eyes set on the pleasantly light and airy cottage before her, the curtains drawn and the residents in a comfortable sleeping stupor, awaiting their beloved daughter’s return the next morning. A rustling noise emerged from a perfectly pruned bush near the home, and Apple Bloom’s adrenalin-heightened hearing caught it, her ears pricking up. Her eyes darted toward the source of the noise, and to her relief she notice a flash of ivory skin and a duo-toned pink and purple mane, with a flash of copper and amethyst behind. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, she thought, relaxing. She silently glided towards the other fillies, her eyes serenely half-lidded. She cleared her throat gently. The other two fillies let out a short gasp, their eyes wide open with fear, which melted off their faces when they saw it was Apple Bloom. Scootaloo frowned at the bag, but decided not to question further.

Apple Bloom teased the knot out of the neck of the bag, immediately allowing a waft of decaying flesh to reach its grotesque and slimy tendrils into the other Crusaders’ nostrils. A wave of nausea slammed at them with the force of a sonic rainboom, whilst Apple Bloom closed her eyes to resist any temptation. She slid the blade out of Twist’s carcass and passed it to Scootaloo, who wore a confused expression.

“Go around the back and cut through the phone lines – so they can’t notify the royal guards.” She whispered, nodding towards Scootaloo. Scootaloo gulped and nodded, clutching the blade towards her body.

“Then just be quiet and wait. I’ll tell you when to go.” She said, looking for nods in her direction.  She assumed her position at the front door, hoof on the polished golden handle. Apple Bloom took in the whitewashed walls, rosy red roof, potted plants. A typical Ponyville house. Every house seemed to be the same, an endless row of copycat buildings spread across the town – but that was always how Ponyville had been. It was the easiest way to populate the town and help it grow – build sturdy, reliable houses in record time. For this reason it lacked the grandeur of Cloudsdale, the refined elegance and beauty found in the soft clouds, but this had never bothered Apple Bloom. She’d always sought comfort in the familiarity of the area, and this had suited her. Her thoughts were interrupted by Scootaloo’s head appearing around the corner of the house, and with a quick nod, Apple Bloom launched into her plan.

She turned the cold handle in her hoof, and just as she expected, the wooden door gave. How foalish of them, she remarked, to leave their door unlocked. Ponyville isn’t the safe haven that everyone assumes. She rolled her eyes and thanked Celestia for their ignorance, moving into the warm house. The hearth was still crackling a little, and the scent of mint lingered in the room. Apple Bloom ignored her cosy surroundings and instead focused on the task at hoof. She wrapped the carefully coiled rope around Twist’s cadaver, and quietly threw the thick rope over the sturdy rafter, pulling it down to bring Twist to eye level, like a sickening piñata, entrails dripping out like the blood smothered candy. Apple Bloom smiled to herself and sat on the plush carpeting, mesmerised by what, to her, was a masterpiece.

Twist’s mother’s eyes fluttered open, after hearing a sharp cluttering noise downstairs. She immediately sat up in bed, nudging her husband awake from his lazy slumber.

“Psst. Pssssst. WAKE UP!” she whispered, her voice increasing with desperation.

“Huh? Wha’ on Earth is happening?” came the groggy reply from her spouse.

“I heard something downstairs.” She whispered. “Go check.”

Twist’s father stumbled out of the warmth of his bed, grumbling about worrying over nothing. His wife followed behind him, worried nonetheless. They trotted down the stairs, Twist’s mother flicking on the electrical light at the base of the stairs and stopping dead at the sight of an illuminated, red raw body hanging from their ceiling.

Twist’s mother let out a shrill scream, her whole frame shuddering in convulsive spams, retching loudly until she’d vomited on the floor, tears mingling with the acid. Twist’s father turned pale and started yelling, cursing, galloping towards the telephone, but Apple Bloom simply smiled and stopped him with a hoof.

“Your phone lines have been severed, Mr Twist. There is no point in trying to notify the royal guards, or even Celestia herself. Now, say hello to your daughter, Twist.” She said, her voice clear and confident.

Twist’s father went pale with the shock and said nothing, his hoof raised to his mouth, pupils tiny pinpricks.

“Well, say hello, then! She came a long way to come visit her favourite Mom and Dad! Aw, look, you’ve upset her!” Apple Bloom chided sadistically, holding a skinless lump of flesh that was once Twist’s forearm and waving it around frantically. She chuckled, first a low rumble, building up into a signature crescendo before fading into a quiet giggle. With a crazed look on her face, she ripped muscle from muscle and separated the forearm she’d been clutching. Apple Bloom edged closer to the figures, waving the lump of mouldy flesh in front of their faces.

“Give your favourite daughter a high five, Pops! Go on!” she spat out, grinning from ear to ear. Twist’s father reluctantly brought his hoof to his daughter’s, recoiling in horror as he touched countless muscles, nerves and flesh, his fur and skin tainted with the blood of his own daughter.

“Atta boy!” Apple Bloom whooped, throwing the arm into the putrid puddle of vomit with a satisfying splash. She wiped gleeful tears from her eyes and turned back to face the petrified figures in front of her.

“So, Mr Twist, Mrs Twist. I suggest you pack your things and leave, right now. If you let anypony know, we will find out, and we can guarantee you a special treatment, just like your daughter here.” She said, jabbing at the swinging body.

The two adult ponies gulped and nodded, grabbing bags and stuffing items into them hastily, never letting their eyes wander from the dead figure of their daughter hanging from the rafters. Her curly red mane, the purple frames perched on her nose, the shreds of creamy skin that still remained – everything they saw was evidence to the cruel murder of their daughter. Sobbing, they left their home and retreated into the night, heading towards Manehattan. Apple Bloom took down the body and took the knife into her hoof, which had been discarded in the heat of the moment. She plunged the knife into the back of the plush sofa, ripping a hole in the upholstery. She pushed the body into the sofa and cleared up all her supplies, taking a key from near the door and locking the house. She turned outside and gleefully stared at the other two fillies, disbanding them from their guarding positions. She trotted back to the barn, her demons proud of the cunning and deceitful mind they had inhabited.

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