Sinister Lenses

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 6

Chapter 1

Sinister Lenses

Quiet chatting could be heard from all around the room as a piano played from the center providing pleasant, but not overbearing, background noise.

Enlarged photos hung in expensive frames, each costing several times more than a single house in Ponyville. The prices for the photos themselves, carefully written out on plaques that hung next to each photo, could have fed a family of four in that same town for three years if they ate simply with a single nice meal every week.

“Your work is simply marvelous dear, marvelous! Who would have thought you could make a bold move from fashion photographer extraordinaire to art photographer and still be successful? Certainly not I, but you’ve done it. Bravo!”

Upper Crust, one of those ponies who tried entirely too hard to impress anyone with the slightest bit of fame in Canterlot gave his practiced golf clap.

Photo Finish, the mare of the hour, bowed slightly and glanced at each of the ponies around her.

Jet Set, who never left her husband’s side. Fancy Pants, who stared at the photo in genuine interest with his physically clingy but not unpleasant girlfriend all over him. Even the official art buyer for Canterlot castle, Chiaroscuro, stood by. He hmmed and adjusted the jewelers eye glass, peering at every little bit.

“Oh, sank you very much but eet is nossink, really. I merely take pictures uf vhat I like. If others like it as vell, zat is good too.”

“And I’m sure the Princess will like it as well. I’ll cut you a check.”

Chiaroscuro pulled out a check book, the official castle seal on the cover and started making it out to the gallery.

Jet Set, always willing to make the sacrifice of sticking her nose into everyone else's business, opened her mouth to pry.

“Which Princess?”

He mumbled around the pen.

“Prinshesh Runa.”

She shrugged, giving Photo Finish a consolatory pat on the shoulder.

“Better luck next time, dear.”

“Sanks.”

What she’d wanted to say would have been far too inappropriate for the ears of any of the toast of Canterlot. Jet Set could suck the fun out a barrel of top hat wearing, jewel encrusted monkeys.

Chiaroscuro went in search of the gallery owner in charge of transactions and, taking it as their own cue, the two social climbers walked away to hob-knob and be a bother elsewhere.

“Finally, that awful mare is gone. Fancy Pants, can we go see the sculptures? There’s a simply marvelous showing of Terra Cotta’s latest works.”

“Oh, you only like them because he gives the stallions such big-“

He caught himself in front of Photo Finish.

“Muscles. Okay dear. Congratulations Photo Finish and thank you for inviting us.”

She thanked them both and watched them walk to the back to see the stallion sculptures with large ‘muscles’.

It was odd to be alone at a show dedicated to her own pieces but she didn’t mind. Outside of working and giving orders to models, she didn’t like to talk. Her accent made her self conscious and try as she had to get rid of it, it had stayed. Hours of practice and voice coaches had done nothing for her. At least in her own language she was actually rather eloquent, but that mattered little in a town where no one shared your mother tongue.

“Hey girl! ‘Sup?”

A hoof around her neck and a friendly squeeze told her exactly who it was.

She smiled at Vinyl Scratch, adjusting her glasses back to normal when the hug tipped them off kilter.

The friends made for an unusual pair to most others that saw them but Photo Finish held her relationship with the ten years younger pony very close to her heart.

They’d met years back when Photo Finish had first become a big thing in the fashion world and had started a small organization for helping other artists get a start in the the art world. Scratch had brought her whole turntable in to audition stating that she,“Couldn’t work with something she hadn’t built herself.”

“I heard one of your works is gonna be hanging in the castle! Pretty awesome.”

“Ya, is, how you Equestrians put it? Ribbed.”

“I…I think you mean groovy.”

“Ya.”

They looked up, the photo of the hazy moon breaking through the clouds looking back down. For such a cliché photo, something every amateur and first year photo student did, it had been received surprisingly well.

“I vas happy de clouds stood still so long. Exposure times are quite de beetch.”

“Wouldn’t know, but I’m happy for you. Wanna come to a gig I’m doing later? Big par-tay at the Bit & Tickle. Be a lot of fun. Meet some cute stallions.”

Photo Finish sighed, still smiling but noticeably hesitant.

“Oh, anyvun dere vould be too young for me. Zey vant hot, young pieces uf flank, like you.”

Scratch laughed, wishing she could get at least a little more party into her friends life. It was hard to come by in the upper parts of Canterlot but lower down, where the younger mares and colts of the rich old money liked to hang out, it was filled with clubs and trendy clothing shops.

“Come on! You need-“

The sudden appearance of a grey pony with a mail bag cut her sentence short. Ponyville, decidedly out of district to be delivering mail in Canterlot, was printed across the side.

“Photo Finish?”

“Dat is me.”

Photo Finish realized the mail carrier was wall eyed when she handed her the letter.

“Aren’t you a little far from Ponyville?”

The grey pony turned to Scratch, giving a little salute.

“It’s marked urgent in big red letters. I know how these slow pokes in Canterlot are so I just brought it myself. Mail is important but mail on time is more so.”

“So kind uf you dear. Please, stay and have at de buffet. You must be tired.”

A stack of gourmet muffins caught her eye and she saluted again and made her way there.

“Appreciated.”

The script on the letter was beautiful cursive that told Photo Finish exactly who it was from and that it was, in big red letters, urgent.

“Ah, is from mama. I feel so bad not having written lately.”

She tore it open, every moment she read the letter followed by her face getting a bit more sullen.

“What’s it about, Finish?”

She folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and put it in one of the pockets of her dress.

“Family sing. I…I have to go.”

She turned and started running through the gallery, knocking over a levitating tray of hors d’oeuvres that splattered over the floor and the waiter who’d been serving them. Scratch dashed after her, wondering just what had spooked her so bad.

It was easy enough to catch up and grab hold of Finish’s dress. Finish slowed, breathing hard from just running that small distance and looked at Scratch. Bizarrely, they had stopped in front of a high end music store called Scratch That!, the magical sign lit brightly behind Scratch’s head.

“Finish, what’s wrong?”

“Nossing!”

The way she yelled in the middle of the street didn’t make it sound like nothing. Yes, there was something wrong but Finish didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t have too many real friends and she didn’t want to burden the best of them with bad news. After all, glum ponies were lonely ponies as the saying went, though it sounded better in her native language.

“Really.”

Scratch took off her glasses, something she never did unless she was completely ditching her party girl/DJ persona and trying to be a little serious.

“You don’t dash out of your own show and leave a nice looking colt covered in bite size food for nothing. Tell me.”

Photo Finish took a deep breath. The news wasn’t that personal to her but being honest with others let them get close.

Close enough to hurt you.

She thought the words through carefully, not wanting her ridiculous accent to make her sound foolish.

“My father died.”

Chapter 2

“Ya, you’ll have to cancel my appointments for de next few days. Maybe the week, I don’t know. Just do it.”

Scratch had followed, or rather had been allowed to follow Finish all the way home though the few times she’d tried to speak after Photo's revelation, Photo had quieted her.

The blue pony was seemingly annoyed on the surface but, truthfully, Finish couldn't have been more glad to have a comforting friend around. She just didn't know what to say or do in this situation. The topic of her family made her nervous.

At home she’d made a dozen calls breaking appointments left and right, some with very important clients that had been very angry in the loudest way possible. Scratch was pretty sure that the loudest yelling had come from Sapphire Shores who had forced Finish to hold the phone away from her ear until she explained that there had been a death in the family. There was no more yelling to hear and Finish responded as if accepting condolences and hung up.

Finally she was done with her calls and looked at Scratch who had been waiting patiently on the barely used and uncomfortable white couch. If her mane hadn’t been blue with the splash of purple her glasses added she would’ve disappeared completely.

“You gonna be okay?”

Scratch had noticed that harried look and knew she needed to say something before Finish got busy again.

“Ya. Vish it hadn’t been right in de meedle uf a busy vork veek. Ugh, that stupid bastud.”

It took a moment for Scratch to realize what a bastud was and then who her friend was talking about.

“You mean…your dad?”

Finish nodded her head, clicking her tongue in irritation.

“Ya. How dare he go und die just to get my attention.”

Scratch pawed at the couch, her eyes shifting confusedly behind her shades.

“So, you don’t like your father?”

“Goodness, no! I hate him! I'm ashamed to even be related to him!”

“Hang on, you're only mad because you have to go to his funeral? You're not, I dunno, sad? At all?”

Finish sat down on the couch next to her friend wondering just how much it would take to satisfy Scratch's curiosity.

“You luf your papa, don't you Scratch?”

Scratch didn't know what that had to do with anything but nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah. I mean, we argue about music but we’re cool. He wanted me to be a classical musician and I wanted to DJ but we still get along. He doesn’t even ride me about my career any more since I make a decent living.”

Finish nodded as the expected contrast backed up her story.

“Vell, I'm glad but you must know zat some ponies aren't so lucky. Some ponies vere forced to move all over Equestria und beyond on stoopid errands and not allowed to attend school or get to make any friends. Und mama stayed all alone und vorked until she had a house for us to settle down in.”

She was talking faster than normal and her accent was making it hard to understand her. Scratch put a comforting hoof on her friend's shoulder until she calmed down.

“So, what is your mom asking you to do?”

Finish threw her head back on the couch and looked up at her ceiling. The ceiling fan needed dusting.

“I haf to go dere and make sure he gets buried.”

“But you hate him.”

“I know! And she knows zat but she vants me to visit her too. I shouldn’t haf gotten so bizee dat I forgot her.”

She threw her hooves up, draping one over the couch and the other over her glasses. A halo of light spilled in around the edges of her arm.

“In my culture, family und parents are de most important aspects uf life. Vhile I luf mama und hate papa, I must respect dem both equally. My father did not let me go hungry or unclothed vhile ve traveled but he vas cold und uncaring. Distant. Like living vith a stranger. I don't know how mama ever luffed him”

She spit a little when she said stranger, most of it coming out as a growl. Saying it a couple more times produced similar results until she just gave up.

They sat there quietly, Finish ticking off a list of what she was going to pack and Scratch running a plan through her mind before putting it out there. Her friend didn't seem eager at all to go and if just the thought of her dad got her this worked up, she didn't want her having to shoulder it alone.

“I’ll go with you. Keep you company.”

Finish turned her head to the side and looked at her friend with one eye, her glasses coloring the unicorn pink.

“Dear, you can’t do zat. You’ve got shows coming up.”

“Some DJ friends owe me some favors. And you didn’t say you don’t want me to go.”

“Vell…I vouldn’t mind…”

Scratch got off the couch and headed for the door. She knew it wasn’t supposed to be a fun trip but she hadn’t been anywhere in a while and a little travel sounded good.

“Then I’m going to pack. Be back in a while.”

When the door closed, Finish thought just how glad she was to have the young mare around.

Chapter 3

The next day was warm and sunny as they stood in the airship boarding area. Throngs of airship admirers and passengers filled the area, many of them admiring the grand old ship the girls would be sailing away on. A loud speaker called for passengers to begin boarding and a friendly stewardess in a blue jacket waved the line forward.

The ship would be leaving in mere minutes for the brand new port in Trottingham, Finish' home town and her mother's current residence. Then, from there on, the group would have to find its own way to the small town of Sleipnir's Rest for the funeral, as her mother had said in her letter.

When they stepped inside the ship it finally occurred to Scratch to ask what Finish's mothers name was.

“Faux Finish.”

Scratch chuckled a little as they walked through the halls of the ship, checking the numbers on the doors for their cabin.

“That’s a pretty funny naming scheme there.”

“Vell, she vas a painter. Houses, paintings, anysing to make a buck. She adores trompe l’oeil. Und...vell, she also luffed my papa who vas...a photographer also...”.

Theirs was a private room with more amenities than necessary but Finish did like to enjoy the fruits of her hard work. Two wide couches that doubled as beds and a small refrigerator between them made up all the furniture in the room. The stunning view through the large window would probably be better once they left port and could see the wide open countryside of Equestria.

Scratch levitated their bags into the overhead compartments, now intrigued at this new information.

“So your Dad was a photographer too? How would you make a living as a traveling photographer?”

Finish sat on the plush couch cum bed and opened her secondary bag, the one with her camera in it.

“He vasn't a real photographer. Dat vas just a hobby.”

“Then what did he do for a living?”

Finish sighed. The airship was already lifting off.

“Are you going to pick at my life de whole vay zere?”

Scratch opened the small refrigerator and picked around. There were free sandwiches, drinks of the soda variety and some chilled glasses.

“That and catch up on some of the music I’ve been neglecting.”

She had already laid her headphones and a large CD case down on her side of the cabin. Finish was already disassembling her camera for a thorough cleaning which was hard without the use of magic but she always managed.

“Scratch, my fader isn't dat interesting and my childhood vas not fun or interesting eider. As far as I'm concerned it's joost old, dead history zat I'd rather not talk about. Please.”

“Oh...well, okay. Sorry.”

It really wasn’t that the stories weren’t interesting in a weird way. Maybe they would be to somepony with a macabre streak but what she feared the most was that they would get back to her current life. Even if she was only a child at the time and blameless for anything that might have happened…she was scared.

Scratch plopped down and picked up one of the small, magically infused discs that carried her music.

“But I have one more thing to say. I got you a gift.”

“Vhat is it?”

Scratch cleared her throat and lowered her tongue the way the teaching CDs suggested.

“”

They did not have plates big enough to describe Photo Finish’ eyes.

The two had talked for hours and hours, Scratch practicing her sentence structure and Finish correcting and teaching new words. She really was overjoyed to have spent the whole day speaking something that mostly only ran through her head but finally they had to stop when they began to feel lightheaded from non-stop talking.

The droning hum of the magical engine and gentle whup of the propeller blades lulled them to sleep.

There was no clock in the room so Finish didn’t know exactly what time she woke up. All she could tell was that it was sometime in the middle of the night judging by the bright moon and stars outside with no hint of sun on the horizon.

She pushed back her covers and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her glasses sat atop her head where they always were. Even when she slept they were comfortingly close, just where she could reach up and flip them down in case of an emergency.

She stumbled out of bed and quietly slid the door open, closing it behind with a soft click. The bathroom was just down the hallway with dim service lights lighting the floor. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been but she was still afraid. Ever since she was little the dark had held a very special terror for her.

Her papa had used to call her that.

With these less than comforting thoughts she quickly tiphooved down the hall and took care of her night time business.

The trip back seemed a bit more intimidating. Several of the lights around their door were out which she hadn’t noticed when her target had been in the other direction.

On tiphooves again she crept down the hallway and stopped only a moment to look out the window. The moon was full and a few wisps of clouds covered it’s face. The mare in the moon looked back although the real prisoner had long since returned.

A sudden ear splitting scream tore through the air, startling Finish so badly that she reeled backward, slamming her head on the wall. Her glasses flew off and skittered across the floor.

Pain trickled through her skull as she rubbed where she'd been hit, a big bump already forming. There was a faint stirring in the passengers rooms but not even a worker had shown up to check on that noise.

She looked out the window and it was then that she noticed that everything was the right shade. The sky was dark, the stars were bright spots. The shine of moonlight over the silvery propeller was like the edge of a knife.

Then she saw it.

A bluish shape crouched by the rounded hull of the propeller engine housing, a hoof moving up and down as though cranking a non-existent wrench on one of the nuts.

It tumbled back, as though slipping on something and fell through the twirling blades of the propeller.

That same shriek again, suddenly cut short as the pony shreds fell away.

It was her turn to scream, this time to the immediate response of the other passengers and stewards. Lights flicked on and someone grabbed her arm. Out the window she could see the wisp appear again, tumble back again. Couldn’t anyone else hear it?!

“My glasses! Get me my glasses!”

Somepony had grabbed her glasses and she felt the earpiece slide around the contour of her ear, the spectre vanishing with the pink shade. The scream happened a third time but she could not see that awful act that had accompanied it twice before.

“Finish, what’s wrong!?”

She was surrounded by ponies, looks of curiosity mostly but some of concern as they stared at the trembling photographer. The most concerned was Scratch who had been the first to burst from her room and had grabbed the glasses that had been yelled for so loudly.

Finish' breathing was hard but evening out as she saw that she was no longer alone.

“Ah, I’m so sorry. Eet’s nightmares. Must haf been sleepvalking. I’m so sorry everyvun.”

Grumbling that it couldn’t have at least been something more exciting the crowd broke up. Scratch helped her friend back to their room and into her bed.

“Geeze, I thought someone was killing you! What were you dreaming about? I mean…those screams!”

Photo held up an arm. It was shaking.

“Those were…”

And she shuddered, unable to convey what she wanted to.

Finish’ breathing slowed to not quite normal as she fell back, cuddling up inside her sheets. She felt bad for waking the ship and worrying her friend. Though not audible, the screams still wavered through her mind. For the first time since her childhood, she remembered real fear.

“I’m sorry Scratch. I’m sorry. I vish I could tell you…”

But that was out of the question as it had always been. There was no way to explain what they couldn’t understand and no comfort she could be offered. Well, except the way her mama had when Finish would wake up in the night, screaming her head off.

“Scratch, can you come here…?”

The white Pegasus obliged, still worried about what she wasn’t being told. Finish lifted her sheet in the universal symbol of “climb in?” She couldn’t meet her friends eyes as ashamed as she was that she had been rattled this badly.

“”

She climbed in without hesitation, her back pushed up against Finish as she pulled the sheets tight around them.

Finish didn’t sleep easily or restfully but none of the old bad dreams came to her that night.

Jump to top

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning, no mention was made of the events of the previous night and many had forgotten them as merely an unfortunate fall in a dark hallway.

Trottingham was bright and cheerful as many growing metropolises were. It was twice as big as Ponyville but still retained that small town feel that made it welcoming to newcomers.

The ship looked ridiculous in the small port but it was the only town that was willing to be a travel hub and was in a straight line south from Canterlot.

Construction was prevalent in town and the docking area as they tried to expand it to house more ships and invite more trade. Pegasi flew through the air carrying wooden planks and I-beams, narrowly avoiding hitting some of the engineers that maintained the ships.

Finish hurried towards the town proper with Scratch behind.

“So, what’s your mom like?”

Finish led them around the narrow alleys as though she hadn’t been gone for years, weaving in and out of what was well traversed and what was not.

“She’s a vunderful lady. You’ll luf her like everyvun else.”

Just once did they have to detour around a newly crafted fence that blocked entrance to an alley. The new path led them by a coffee shop where they stopped to get a little eye opener in the form of some of the strongest coffee Scratch had ever tasted.

“Ugh, what is in this!?”

She telepathically tore open several packages of sweetener and dumped them in the cup, vigorously stirring it with a knife.

Finish shook her head and chuckled, drinking it as is.

“I used to dreenk zis all de time. Like a kick in de flank, ya?”

Scratch tried drinking it again and stuck her tongue out. It couldn’t be saved.

“Your taste buds are dead.”

They paid and Finish thanked Java Bean, the same waiter slash owner that used to serve her when she was a teenager. He called out to them as they left,

“Say hi to your mom for me, kiddo.”

He stilled called her that even now although she was in her thirties and he in his sixties. It was comforting to know that some things never changed.

A couple of streets over the residential areas began and they arrived at a vacant lot, stopping just at the edge of the cobble street.

“Ve’re here.”

Finish announced. Scratch looked up and down the street then again at the lot in front of them.

“Where?”

Finish pointed up at a bird that perched on the edge of the blue sky and pushed the mare a little closer to the yard. Suddenly a house, painted to match it’s surroundings, popped out of the background.

“That is trippy.”

“Ya. Zat’s my mama. Treepy.”

Halfway up the walkway the door burst open and a doctor with his coat flapping behind him shot down the path, tripping over his own hooves and face faulting into the path in front of the girls.

A can of paint flew from the open door and splashed over the stones and the doctor’s whole backside, coloring him a bright yellow that clashed violently with his purple coat. He leapt to his hooves and was off, disappearing down the sidewalk with the paint can stuck to his tail.

“”

An older mare charged from the house with a second paint can in her teeth. The resemblance to Photo Finish was uncanny with the same coat and mane color, only this older mare’s hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and the added years had put a few more wrinkles around her eyes.

She stopped short when she saw the girls, the paint can falling from her mouth and spilling purple into the yellow puddle.

“”

“”

She trod through the paint and hugged Photo Finish, swinging her around in a tight embrace that belied what her small frame ought to have been able to lift.

Setting her daughter down and standing back to look her over you could see the joy all over her face. Finish pointed down the street at the vanished doctor.

“”

Her mother snorted, throwing a disdainful look in the direction the stallion had run.

“”

“”

“”

Scratch had been standing there trying to follow the conversation and watching the interesting hoof painted design appear on the walkway when Finish the elder took notice of her.

“”

Scratch held out her hoof and Faux took it, shaking it a couple of times as Photo introduced them.

“”

Faux smiled at Scratch even as she asked her daughter in their shared language,

“”

Little air quotes accompanied the question as Photo turned bright red and Scratch, who knew enough of the language to realize she'd just been called a lesbian, laughed at the interesting shade her friend turned.

“”

Faux’s mouth dropped open and she pulled Scratch forward in a tight hug, much more excited to meet someone with enough interest in her culture to speak a broken version of her language.

“”

The white unicorn squirmed a little bit in her grip, enough to free an arm to put around the other mare and give her a couple of pats on the back. Certainly there were major differences in mother and daughter, this overt display of affection being something you'd never see from Photo Finish.

“”

They followed her in, sidestepping the now painted front lawn, and the first thing Scratch noticed was the lack of any kind of space to walk around in that wasn't already occupied by a painting or cans of paint. Luckily they didn't have to move any of the canvases as they stopped in the painting-free kitchen.

Finish senior rummaged for pots and piled new and unusual roughage Scratch had never seen before on the counter as the girls settled at the table and dropped their bags out of the way.

“”

The cooking mare skillfully tossed the salad around a bowl, mixing it thoroughly so no one side got too much of any one leaf. Then it was slicing tomatoes, cutting carrots, everything but responding to her daughter.

“”

“”

Photo's mouth dropped open, turning to stare at her mother's back in what looked like more than shock and a lot like fear. Faux didn't bother to turn around to see how her daughter had taken the news.

“”

Photo opened and closed her mouth several times as her voice had apparently all but disappeared. Finally she stammered out a couple of words that attempted to grasp the situation.

“”

Faux carried the bowls to the table, the porcelain clinking as she set one down in front of Scratch and the other in front of Photo. The look on her face was hard as she stared down at her daughter.

“”

Scratch glanced from one to the other, leaving her food untouched. Some sort of situation seemed to be developing based on her friend's reaction to this news and sudden family arguments were not something she wanted to be in the middle of, no matter how hungry she was.

Faux glanced at Scratch then back at her daughter, not oblivious to the DJ's feelings.

Photo grit her teeth, suddenly angry at being left with the full burden of the trip. She tried to be polite, to hold back her anger. Yelling at her mother wasn't something she'd ever imagined herself doing and she really didn't think she'd be able to win that argument. She'd never won one before.

“”

Her mother turned back to the counter, equal parts controlled anger and politeness in her tense lips.

“”

Photo slammed her hoof down on the table and sent the bowls rattling.

“”

Scratch backed away from the table and pretended, and wished sorely, that she were invisible. She had enough fights with her own dad but seeing someone else do it made her incredibly uncomfortable, especially when she couldn't even follow their fast, loud words.

Faux whirled around and went nose to nose with her daughter, never having heard her daughter talk back to her in her life. Her chest heaved with deep breaths as her politeness faded.

“”

Faux's eyes flashed as she clamped her mouth shut, having said something she hadn't intended to be said. Photo knit her brow, suddenly confused.

“”

Her mother sat down, avoiding her daughter's eyes. She couldn't bear to look at her.

“”

Photo sat back, the anger draining from her quickly as concern took its place.

“”

For a moment, she sat there quietly, not looking at anyone at the table. She began slowly, speaking quietly.

“”

“”

She shook her head.

“”

The kitchen was silent as Photo stared at the floor, circling a splotch of paint with her hoof. Shame filled her heart about what she'd been thinking and saying and yelling at her mother who had only wanted to spare her having to worry that she might lose another parent so soon.

“”

She hugged her daughter again, tighter than before and Photo hugged her mother. It was an awkward situation for Scratch, not knowing just what to say or do although she was fairly certain the fight was over. All she managed was to inch back to the table.

Faux released her daughter, sniffing a bit and wiping away the tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes. A smile made it's way to her face and she laughed as her old self reappeared.

“”

That little house was a home again to Photo and an inviting place to Scratch that pushed the true purpose of their trip out of their minds. That day and night were filled with joy and laughter and embarrassing photos of young Photo Finish.

Jump to top

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next morning brought the unusual combination of Scratch and elder Finish together. Scratch shambled out of the couch nest she'd made from all the blankets she'd been given and, still wrapped up against morning chill, she'd gone into the kitchen to find Faux already cooking breakfast for three.

It was plain to see how tired the insomnia suffering mare looked now that she'd removed her make up. Dark circles had formed under her bloodshot eyes but she put on a big smile when her daughter's guest walked in.

“”

The blanket covered pony rubbed her eyes, attempting to clear her bleary vision enough to see the table. They'd stayed up late into the night, discussing their respective arts and keeping the sleepless mare company until she finally sent them to bed, not wanting them to be too tired for the carriage trip.

Scratch was sure Faux hadn't slept at all. The swish of brushes and the creak of worn bed springs would occasionally sound from the painter's room until Scratch had put on her ear phones to drown it out.

Mrs. Finish set down a hot plate of pancakes in front of the mare and plucked the glasses from the unicorn's head where they usually rested against her horn. They were left next to the plate.

“”

“”

She nodded as she sipped at her coffee even though she clearly wasn't doing too well.

“”

As they sat there together in the quiet of early morning with fresh pancake smell wafting through the air, Scratch realized she had the rare opportunity to pry into her friend's past.

Casually levitating her knife and fork and slicing up the pancakes, she tried to make her question seem casual.

“”

The older mare looked at her over the edge of the paper she had pulled off her front step and grinned sympathetically.

“If it'll make you feel better, we can speak Equestrian.”

Scratch's mouth fell open, a bit of pancake falling back onto her plate when she heard the clear and articulate words come from her friend's mother. Faux closed the shocked DJ's mouth as the sight of mashed food was rather disgusting.

“But...Photo can barely...”

Faux waved a hoof, dismissing the surprise the other mare was experiencing.

“My mother and father were good speakers. My father was an actor and my mother a singer. Good speaking is in my blood. Photo got the bad side of her father's mouth when she was born. He couldn't even learn Equestrian so, in a way, she's actually very lucky to have gotten as far as she did.”

Scratch nodded, coming up with her own idea.

“And you don't speak Equestrian in front of her because it makes her feel bad.”

“Right.”

So, her father didn't have much of a speaking voice. That's more than I knew before.

“And what did your husband do that didn't require him to speak the local language?”

Faux folded her paper in half and laid it on the table, focusing all of her attention on Scratch.

“Has Photo volunteered any of this information?”

Scratch shook her head thinking that the mother was a dead end too. The whole family seemed to be very tight-lipped about the past.

“Then I can't tell you anything about her relationship with him. It's not my place. But, if you'll do me a favor, I can tell you something about him that doesn't involve her.”

Without waiting for a response, Faux passed an envelope that rattled with the sound of bits.

“That's for my husband's funeral. I know Photo won't take it since she thinks that she's the only one with spare cash but it's my husband that's being buried. It's my responsibility. So you take this and make sure it gets used.”

The envelope floated into the air courtesy of Scratch and out through the doorway to the living room. It nestled safely into the bag the unicorn had brought.

“Not a problem. I know how she is.”

Faux listened for a moment to the quiet of the house. It wouldn't do to have Photo walk in on them even if she wasn't saying anything all that bad.

“Well, my husband was an earth pony named Silver Salt and, I hope we don't have an argument when I say this dear, he was an occult researcher.”

Scratch squinted one of her big red eyes in ignorance.

“Why would I argue?”

Only moments after saying it did she realize what she, in her tolerance of all view points and ponies, had forgotten from her grandfather's old bigoted stories about the past.

“Oooooh, right. Unicorns used to have a big problem with any other ponies trying to use or study magic. I'm not really much of a magic user anyway so I never attended magic school or got involved in all that history and politicking.”

Mrs. Finish ruffled the unicorn's hair and continued, at ease with the her lack of prejudice.

“Well, that's what her father did for a living. I was working, trying to buy a house and always on a job. It was easier to save money with just myself so I left Photo with her dad who didn't have many expenses due to his constant moving and just plain being chintzy. He would occasionally send money to help me and pictures of Photo. I think he knew how unhappy she was with him. It was the only time I'd ever seen him voluntarily part with so much money so she could come back here.”

“How long was she with him?”

“Only a year, from age nine to ten. I'd always known my husband was a bit hard to get along with. I knew he was weird too, always chasing magic charms and traveling to haunted locations but when I was young I thought it was sort of romantic, like an adventure every day. But it was only after she came back and I saw how scarred she was from that single year that I realized what he was really like and how badly I'd failed as a mother...”

Faux stared intently at her cup of coffee, rotating it back and forth as she concentrated on it.

“What did he DO to her? I mean, it wasn't...he wasn't a mole-”

Faux rapidly shook her head, quickly quelling that vile notion.

“Not at all. But that's where I can't tell you anything else. It's Photo's story and I won't tell it if she doesn't want it known. I was just very glad when I saw that she had a friend like you. She's always had trouble connecting with others and I know how those rich circles work. Not much sincerity or closeness. Take care of my daughter, okay?”

Scratch nodded, feeling that she had been given a great deal of trust from the older mare.

“Don't worry, I'll look after her. I really like Photo.”

Faux took a small sip from her cup, her next question a little quiet as she leaned over to ask.

“But you're not...uh...together...?”

“No. We're not a couple.”

“Okay. Just checking, just checking.”

The click of approaching hooves warned them that their discussion was over and Scratch would learn nothing else right then.

“Hello everyvun.”

Sleepy Photo Finish walked into the kitchen wearing her wrinkled purple PJs that were just a bit big on her, her glasses in the same place they always were. She went straight for the coffee mugs and poured a cup of warm coffee which she sipped at as she sat down at the table with them. Pancakes were offered and refused, instead going to Scratch's plate.

“I sink I'd like to get dis over vith as soon as possible. Ve'll be leafing after breakfast, okay Scratch?”

Scratch nodded, her mouth too full to respond.

“Und mama, I'm not taking any money from you for de burial, especially if you have to pay for your treatment.”

Photo missed the little wink her mother gave Scratch over her cup.

“”

She had been expecting a fight from her mother but merely considered it good fortune that for once she'd won an argument.

“Vell, good. Den ve should leaf right after breakfast. I sink ve'll be back de day after tomorrow, right mama?”

She'd picked up a letter from a stack on the counter and handed it to her daughter.

“”

The wall clock chimed and conveniently alerted the group to the 9 AM time.

“”

It didn't take any time at all for the girls to get ready. Finish simply changed back to her usual clothes and they grabbed their bags as well as accepting the lovingly made bag lunches Faux had readied for them.

Last goodbyes were said on the stoop, the girls expecting to be back soon to spend more time with the caring older mare who had shown them a warm welcome. They were quickly off towards the coach station.

Jump to top

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Goodness! Come in, come in! You both look awful.”

Their hostess had invited them in quickly, hurriedly leading them to a living room where she entertained visitors, few as they were. They were seated on an antique couch as the funeral home owner rushed off and returned not minutes later with a pot of tea and three china cups and saucers.

It was then that the two tired friends finally noticed that their hostess was a giraffe. Her exceptional neck was twice as long as any other pony and her coat was a dark yellow with mottled brown spots. A large key ring about her neck rattled as she moved. Thanks to their unfortunate encounter earlier, this registered far lower than it normally would have on the surprise scale.

“It looks like you two ran into some trouble out there. Are you okay?”

She set the warm cups in their hooves and took a seat across from them on a chair even older looking than the one the girls shared. In fact, most everything in the room looked ancient, as though scavenged from some long-forgotten ruin. Even the books that lined one whole wall showed signs of water damage and over-exposure to the elements.

Scratch nodded at their inquiring hostess, thinking that Finish wasn't really in a condition to hold a conversation and took over.

“You could say that.”

Thinking it best to avoid talk of their unpleasant experience, she went directly to business.

“We're actually here to pay last respects to Silver Salt and pay for burial.”

The giraffe nodded, knowing just what body they meant. She only had the one right now after all.

“But, if it's alright, we'd like to wait until morning. We heard you were only open at night and I know it's asking a lot but if you could let us stay here...”

The giraffe waved her hoof, giving her clients a charming smile. “I understand how much trouble my schedule can cause. You're free to spend the night and I'll wake you up to see him before I close in the morning. The burial will have to be tomorrow night then.”

“That'd be great. Thanks so much for helping us.”

“Can I see him?”

Finish had gotten up the strength to talk, the tea working it's warm healing magic on her mood and pained throat.

“She said we could wait-”

Finish' cup clinked hard on the table, a bit of the contents sloshing out.

“No. I vill see him now. Und zat vill be zat.”

Finish stood but as Scratch was about to follow, the photographer merely shook her head. She'd do this alone.

The giraffe led the way to the back of the large building, past a woodworking shop filled with coffins, an old study filled with even more books than the living room and finally the body preparation room. Taking key in hoof, she unlocked her work room and held it open for Finish to walk through.

“I'll be with your friend when you're done. Then we'll get you settled for the night.”

She softened her look, slipping into her practiced business demeanor.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

The door clicked softly as Finish was left all alone.

Candles set around the room provided some light, most of the candles burned down quite far and needing replacing. There was a large wooden table in the center of the room and a coffin on that. The lid leaned against the farthest side.

Finish approached, her reluctant steps making no noise.

And there he was.

He was older looking than Finish remembered, obviously, but it was still a surprise. Grey hair peppered his mane, more wrinkles lined his face. Scratches and scars covered his legs, pink skin peeking through his grey coat. It was a hard life he had led. The constant moving and the stress of hunting monsters had taken a heavy toll on his body.

“”

The candles flickered and cast her wavering shadow onto the wall. For all she knew, his spirit could be right there in the room with her. She'd only have to lift her glasses to check but that would have only made things worse.

“”

There was another flicker. The usual coldness of spirit proximity wasn't present but it wasn't impossible that he could still be there. Perhaps years of dealing with spirits had given him advanced knowledge of how to be dead.

“”

Finish looked around the room, wondering just what else she needed to say. She'd never been in this situation before and didn't know quite how to proceed.

“”

Something cold touched her her cheek and she flinched away. It had been a faint stroke, like the brush of a cool feather. Had that been him? The flickering candles, the cool touch, these were all things easily blamed on a drafty home. Excuses she'd heard skeptics give her father during investigations.

“”

As the door closed behind her it felt as though a great weight had lifted from her. Her greatest secret was out and the shackles it had bound her heart with were loosened, if not gone.

Her father could no longer haunt her with his mere existence. He was dead.

It felt like everything was going to be alright.

Back in the living room the still unnamed giraffe was counting out a pile of bits that Scratch had, to Finish, offered out of her own pocket. But the trail of their trip gave her another idea.

“Vas dat mama?”

Scratch shrugged and nodded, a little sheepish at being caught in the act. Finish only shrugged too. You couldn't stop mama once she had made up her mind.

“Vell,okay. I guess ve should get to bed. Sanks for holding him Miss...?”

“Teetotaler. Most ponies just call me Miss Tea when I have guests.”

She swept the bits back into the envelope and waved her temporary tenants after her. Back through the hallway but taking different turns that led them up some stairs and to a long hallway with several heavy wooden doors on the second floor.

“These will be your rooms.”

She unlocked the two doors, letting them swing open and dust falling from the door frames settling on the floor. Teetotaler lit the oil lamps in each room, brightening them for her guests and laying out some sheets and pillows that were stored in large chests.

“I can't offer you much food so I hope you aren't picky.”

Scratch's stomach growled at the mention of food, her mouth already watering.

“Anything at all is fine Miss Tea. I'm starved!”

“And for you, Miss Finish?”

Her answer was stifled by a yawn wide enough for the others to see her back teeth. She blinked as tiredness tugged at her eyelids.

“I sink I vill just go to bed. Sank you anyvay.”

Teetotaler nodded and headed to her kitchen to make a little something for herself and the DJ.

Finish turned to her room, Scratch tossing her friend's bag by the big fluffy bed.

“Are you going to be able to sleep alone tonight?”

Her friend looked at her, remembering the couple of times she'd had to step in and cradle her to make her feel better. But that was before.

“No...I'm fine Scratch. Better dan ever. See you tomorrow, ya?”

A small smile spread over Scratch's face and she nodded, closing the door but stopping at the last moment to stick her head back in.

“Really?”

“I'm really okay Scratch. Ve'll talk tomorrow.”

She relented her questions and closed it all the way.

Finish climbed into the big fluffy bed and rolled onto her side, staring at the tiny flame of the oil lamp until sleep would come to claim her.

It was true. Everything really was fine for the first time in a long time.

Jump to top

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The next morning they were all set to go home, their bags packed and hung around their sides as they waited at the door. With the state her clothes were in, and not having an appropriate dress to change into, Finish had no choice but to go without. It was a strange feeling for a fashion fan to go nude but that was how the situation measured up. Her cheeks were still the lightest shade of red though.

Teetotaler had asked them to stay a moment while she rooted through her office, supposedly to finish out their transaction. She came back with a large brown satchel and gave it to Finish, looping the strap over her neck.

“This was everything your father had with him.”

“Sank you.”

The sleepy giraffe left them there, and they looked around. In the day time the area was actually quite pretty. The tunnel of trees was ahead of them and around the side of the house they could see another road, slightly overgrown, that led to what appeared to be ruined buildings swallowed up by the sea of trees. Finish would have loved to go look at the broken down structures if her camera hadn't been completely destroyed and lost.

“So, vhat should ve do until our ride gets here?”

Scratch looked up and down the road and started for the ruins, Finish following behind.

“Well, you like stuff like this right? Let's take pictures.”

The photographer in question cleared her throat.

“How do you suppose I can do dat vithout a camera?”

Scratch turned and rubbed her chin as she stared at the satchel Finish had been saddled with. Without asking, she threw it open and levitated out the contents one at a time, one of which just happened to be a camera.

“Didn't you say your dad was a photographer?”

Finish took it out of the air, looking it over.

“Vhy didn't I sink uf dat?”

The camera was an old model. It had been updated from the one Silver Salt had taught her to use as a child but it was still one of the oldest version MSLRs she'd seen in a long time, probably not even in make anymore.

It showed signs of heavy use and the neck strap was a little frayed. Scratch lowered a couple of lenses from the air, a Fish eye lens and a long range VR lens. Both were in sorry shape with their lenses busted out. They were tossed back in the bag and Scratch stuck her head in the bag to see what actually useful accessories might be hidden there.

“Do you see any UV filters in dere?”

Flipping the focus to manual and adjusting the basic lens was difficult but doable. Normally the new MSLRs would have voice command switching but she'd used one of these before. You just had to get your hooves in there just right.

“Nope but I found a notebook.”

Scratch flipped a couple of pages as the book floated in front of her, looking at the sketchy pictures depicting different kinds of what she assumed were spirits. The book being in Finish' language didn't exactly make anything clear as Scratch hadn't been learning to read it, just speak it.

“Hey, what was that singing about last night?”

Finish gazed off into the forest and the shutter clicked. It stayed open just a bit too long so she lowered the shutter speed to 1/8th.

Click.

There, that one came out pretty good.

“You veren't kidding last night, about not minding if I'm like...dis?”

Scratch flipped a few more pages, rolling her eyes.

“Finish, for the last time, you're fine. I would never do that. Plus, I'm interested. Tell me.”

Click. They walked further into the forest, more rotten buildings appearing even further in.

“Ghosts hate most anysing dat de living might enjoy. Singing, laughing, dat sort of sing. Vell, most ghosts do. Dat song vas an old lullaby mama used to sing to me.”

Click.

“Huh, I didn't know that.”

“Uf course not. Most ponies don't. Hey, stay joost like dat.”

She adjusted the focus again, stepping back a bit and took the photo. Scratch didn't have time to escape, her profile taken in front of one of the stone ruins with flecks of green leaves falling in the background.

“Ah, Finish! I said no pictures of me!”

“Come on, it's fun! Let me take pictures uf you.”

Scratch sighed. Finish had been trying to get her into a situation like this for a few years but she'd always had a good excuse to be anywhere but there.

“I don't think so. You're gonna make me be sexy or something.”

“No. Vhere vould you get dat...okay, maybe a little. It von't kill you.”

“Nope.”

Scratch trotted ahead, slipping her headphones on and tuning her friend out. A flash behind her made her turn quickly to see a nonchalant Finish looking off to the side.

“Did you just-”

“Take a picture uf your plot? Ya. Maybe dis is my next masterpiece. I spread it all over Equestria! 'Ah, is dis de new Photo Finish piece?' Ya, dat's some nice looking flank right dere'. Dat's vhat dey'll say.”

Finish took off down the path, laughing maniacally. As most artists were, she was a little nutty when she started working. Scratch chased after, yelling for the picture to be deleted, trying to catch the suddenly joyous pony.

For someone who never seemed to get any exercise, Finish seemed unusually active today. It took Scratch running all out to catch her, grabbing hold of her tail and slowing her just in front of a graveyard.

“Delete it. Now.”

The smiling photographer flipped the camera around, pulled up the dutch angle photo of Scratch's backside and visibly deleted it.

“Dere. Sorry. I just feel so...different today. I know mama is still in trouble but...”

She looked around her at the bright sunshine that flowed down through the trees and the many things she could take pictures of. Her friend standing there, miffed about the picture but taking it as good natured fun.

“...I feel really good, Scratch. C'mon, let me take a couple photos uf you. Please? No sexiness unless you vant to.”

She sighed as she tried to think of a way out of this. There rreally wasn't any.

“Alright. You can take some. And maybe a little sexiness. Just a little.”

“Excellent. Let's go see if ve can find some oder buildings as props.”

Before trotting off, Finish turned to the graveyard and raised a hoof as high as she could and slowly lowered it. They walked on after that and Finish answered before it was even asked.

“It's an old religious gesture. If you pass by a graveyard, you do dat. It means 'De sun has set on your time'. It's supposed to be calming though more for de walker dan de dead.”

Scratch was learning a lot today.

It wasn't long before the trees started to thin out and more of the stone structures could be seen. A house here, a bigger house there. And rising up in the distance was a wide, castle-like building. Stone walls rose high in the air, moss and plants growing from the side. Crumbling spires rose up from the main body of the old college, chunks taken out of their sides. The main door had long since rotted away into a pile of mulch that was overgrown with plants.

“Dis place is amazing!”

Finish stepped forward, gazing at it all. Her head turned every which way, scanning the entire scene, rapidly making plans and inventing poses for her reluctant model. There was so much potential!

Even Scratch was caught up in it, lowering her head phones again and sliding the journal back into Silver Salt's bag so she could rub her hooves over the wall of one of the homes. Years of rain had worn it smooth and carved little niches into it. Ivy had found these little cracks and grown up, covering much of the surface of the buildings.

Click.

“Dat vas a good vun Scratch. Dat vasn't so bad, ya?”

“Why do you think I'm so photogenic?”

Finish put a hoof on her model's shoulder and clicked her tongue at the white mare's cluelessness. It really wasn't hard to see, not for a photographer.

“De simple answer is dat you're very pretty. De long answer is a subtle quality dat you exude. You're very...truthful. Vhat I see on de surface is vhat I get from you. You're not 'modeling'. You're being you. You have to let me get some photos uf you at your next gig. I vant to see you vhen you're a ball uf energy. Vhen you're, how do dey say? Throwing down de sick beats? Is dat right?”

Scratch smiled at that little description of her, rubbing the back of her head with one hoof in embarrassment.

“Yeah, you got that one right. Okay, come on. Let's do this thing.”

They walked from ruin to ruin, taking a photo here, posed against that wall there, leaning out of a window hole with all the original glass long since missing. Finish would stop after every photo and recheck the f-stop, the position of the sun and the shade so that each shot came out perfect.

They made their way to the gate and stepped into the courtyard of the college. Heavy stone blocks that had fallen from one of the several towers had sunk deep into the ground and formed an impromptu cuboid sculpture garden.

“Get on dat vun, okay?”

“Like this?”

Scratch climbed atop the block and straddled it, her head tilted back so she was gazing up at nothing in particular. The old college building rose up behind her and a wide swath of blue sky above that when Finish flipped the camera on it's side.

“Ya, das good.”

Click.

Click.

Crack.

Crack?

Finish looked up towards the noise, her eyes widening in shock as that small cracking noise had failed to properly convey the sound of a massive tower tilting and falling from it's precarious perch towards where she stood.

She had only taken three frantic steps back when blocks rained down around her, slamming into the earth with thick thudding noises. Finish could hear cries from her friend but they were drowned out by every crash of stone. A block crushed the earth barely a foot from her body and everywhere she turned, she was met with more falling destruction, leaving her no where to run as the shadow of the main tower fell over her. She braced her body, turning her face away so she wouldn't have to watch herself be crushed to death.

The expected blow never came as the earth dropped under her, the entire courtyard bending under the weight of the assault. She was suddenly floating in mid-air as the ground fell out from underneath, stone, dirt and wooden beams floating all around her.

Through the cacophony of blocks grinding together and the quaking ground she heard Scratch's shrill scream fading into the distance. Finish didn't know if she was screaming or not but her mouth was certainly open, whatever noise she was making swallowed in the tunnel of debris.

Her body twisted up, reaching towards the rapidly retreating sunlight. The last thing she saw was the wooden beam twisting towards her, slamming into her skull and then nothing.

Jump to top

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was only ever so slowly that she realized she was alive. The throbbing pain in her head was proof of that, a sharp ache that went from her right temple towards her forehead.

Opening her eyes was a challenge. The left seemed fine but the right struggled as though it were held together with some kind of glue. She pushed her glasses up and gently prodded at the sticky eyelid and decided that it had to be blood. She carefully picked at it, peeling back the congealed bits until she could blink a few times and see.

Her head drifted up to the way she had come and the blue sky of day was still overhead. It had to have been a good fifty foot drop, wooden beams, stone blocks and part of the tower lodged in the sink hole that had been created. Her head drifted up to the way she had come and the blue sky of day was still overhead. It had to have been a good fifty foot drop, wooden beams, stone blocks and part of the tower lodged in the sink hole that had been created.

That was when she realized her vision was split between it's normally pink hue and ordinary color.

What that meant was...!

She slowly removed the frames from her ears and looked at the glasses she'd worn for twenty years of her life.

The right lens was shattered and only shards still remained in the frame. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight and she immediately dropped down so her face was barely an inch from the cobblestone floor as she swept back and forth, combing over every inch of the area.

“Vhere are you, vhere!?”

Her father's satchel had landed next to her and spilled from it was his journal, the camera, AH!

She picked at the shards, scraping them into a pile and using the weather beaten journal to scoop them up.

The groan of sliding timbers froze her body. She darted her head around, slapping the book shut.

A second, louder groan and a trickle of dirt were all the warning she needed. She ran, opening her her eyes as wide as she could to catch any hint of a tunnel or hallway out.

Something slid overhead, stone grinding on stone that spurred her to look faster.

There!

She ducked into a dark tunnel barely a foot wide and braced herself against the wall, sliding deeper into the darkness. But no sound of the tunnel collapsing followed her. Looking back showed the only source of light and she sorely wanted to go back to it.

She'd rushed into the darkness to avoid the immediate danger but now she had a far greater concern and those dreadful words of her father came back to her again.

She refused to finish the rest, shaking her head to somehow lose the thought. But she couldn't move forward.

“It's okay Finish. Just because it's old doesn't mean dat dey'll be here. Ponies abandon bustling college campuses all de time for no reason at all. Nothing bad had to happen.”

She didn't believe that at all and her hooves became useless lumps at the ends of her legs.

Then she remembered.

She hadn't heard Scratch up above. There had been no yelling, no sounds coming from above except the debris shifting. Was she hurt? Had she been caught in the rain of blocks? Or was she coming to look for her? Had she gone back to town to get help? What was going on!?

She didn't want to believe it but if Scratch were hurt, she needed to get out. And that meant going blindly into the dark.

One step. Then another. Then another.

Dis is for Scratch. Move.

The pad of Finish' hooves was the only sound that accompanied her and she counted them. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It didn't calm her much but it did keep her mind on moving forward.

She startled when she felt something flutter against her face, her heart racing again. A moment passed and she put her hoof forward. It was only a curtain. She swept it aside and felt the space around her open up from the small tunnel. Was it a room? If only she could see...

But she did have a light. She felt for the camera in the bag and held it up, setting it to flash. She set it back to automatic focus and bit the lens with her teeth to keep it from focusing, keeping the light on. A bright circle lit up the room when she pressed the capture button.

It was a standard room, ten feet by ten feet. Broken furniture littered the floor. A bed, a chair, a dresser. Nothing that gave the impression that anything but time had taken it's toll here.

There was a door set in the wall that stuck when she tugged on the rusted iron ring of a handle. A harder pull yielded better results and it swung open with the third.

Beyond was a long hallway lined with similar wooden doors. Some were closed but others were crushed in, splinters of the door lying about in a pattern that suggested force and not time had been the culprit. Her eyes wandered further down the corridor, not wanting any surprises to pop up under her feet.

What covered the floor made her blood run cold.

Bones and splinters of bone. Skulls and pieces were scattered everywhere, haphazardly thrown about as though whatever massacre, for that was the only explanation for such brutality, had been one of ripping and tearing with insane strength.

And she heard the voice.

Her body quaked in fear as the sob came closer. She turned towards the sound and through the broken lens over her right eye she saw the blue form of a phantom appear far down the hallway. It crawled slowly towards Finish, pulling itself an inch at a time, unable to stand on its back legs.

She backed away, down the opposite side of the hallway but couldn't run as her body locked up.

The ghost turned back, looking away from Finish and shielded it's face with one hoof as though trying to block out whatever horrible memory had claimed it in the first place.

It spoke, it's voice dissonant, as though two of the same recorded message were trying to play over one another.

“No! NO! Not...don't take me...I don't want to die!”

It crawled forward again, more frantic this time and Finish could see that it's back legs were a tangled mash of broken ethereal bone peeking through blue flesh.

Their eyes met as the ghost looked directly at her, or at whatever had stood in the exact spot Finish now occupied.

Tears flowed from it's empty sockets and Finish could feel terror coming off the being in waves of palpable energy.

“Help me!”

And the being exploded as though burst from the inside out. Each organ splattered on the wall, blue blood coating the wall and seeping down in a bloodfall. It slowly disappeared, the ghostly recording having completed it's message. But now Finish could see it. The walls were painted with deep, rust red stains and she screamed, the sound ringing off the tight walls, echoing throughout the entire building it seemed. The light went out without her mouth to hold the lens and she was plunged into total darkness.

She fled, her hooves tripping on the bones of the deceased and sending her sliding into the walls that left red smudges on her coat. Tears came to her eyes now, horror at what she'd stumbled into swelling inside her.

Was this what her father had been doing here? Another investigation? More of the dead rattling their chains in a hidden corner of the world where Celestia's gaze never wandered?

And if it had killed her father, who had done this for years, how could she escape?

Her hooves tripped over a new found set of stairs and she rocketed up, fleeing as though the very dead themselves were nipping at her heels, which her fevered mind had placed just behind her.

She had no idea where she was going as she ran int total darkness until a shaft of light pierced through the darkness ahead of her.

An exit!

She ran harder, huge leaps covering several feet at a time.

It was a door!

She burst through and found the ever blessed light of day careening through the destroyed front gate. The massive hole was just beyond and then the overgrown front gate.

She ran to it, laughing wildly as she yelled.

“Scratch! Scratch, I'm okay! Scratch!”

The sun beamed down on her as she stood in the archway and called out, searching the courtyard desperately.

Scratch wasn't there.

She turned her head this way and that, looking for any sign of her friend, a hint as to where she was or if she were around. The tower had mostly blocked off the courtyard and the hole in the middle could only be crossed by flight. Only a small path near the base of the wall the tower had fallen from would allow passage back to the other side.

But there wasn't a single clue about Scratch. She stepped out into the bright sunshine and looked again, calling out. The sun had barely moved in the sky from where it had been when they'd first entered the college ruin. Finish couldn't have been unconscious for more than twenty or thirty minutes.

Her tired smile fell away to a frown and she turned to look back at the gaping mouth of the school. Could Scratch have gone to look for her?

There was a small object on the ground just barely within the pool of sunlight allowed by the door. She trotted over and her heart skipped a beat when she saw what it was.

Scratch's head phones.

Her knees shook as she stared into the dark, right back through the door she had escaped through. Scratch had run down there to find her but there had been no sign of the DJ on the way up. Surely she would have called out to her if she'd heard Finish screaming and come to her rescue.

Come to her rescue?

It was always that way, wasn't it? Scratch was always coming to save her, to keep her company and to make her feel better at a moments notice. Hadn't she dropped everything to come with her on this trip? Why was it that Finish was hesitating now?

Finish took the first step towards the dark opening and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Of course Scratch was in there. Scratch wouldn't have wasted a thought on whether to go back to town to get help. She would've charged in immediately for the rescue.

Even with her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, she walked forward into the dark and prayed very hard she'd be walking back out.

Jump to top

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Even after setting her resolve and saying a little prayer, she had trouble getting her hooves to go very fast into the large foyer beyond the door.

Scraps of old banners hung limply along the walls and the stink of mildew lingered in the air. No pony remains were scattered here for her to trip over but her fear kept her moving at a slow pace regardless.

With her small light in the dark, she crept forward and stayed close to the wall, eventually making it to the end of the hallway. It split off in opposite directions, Finish quickly shining her light down each way.

She might never find Scratch like this if she didn't speak up so she let the lens go and called into the darkness.

“scratch?”

The sound came out in a whisper as she stared down one of those foreboding corridors. She cleared her throat to muster a bit more strength and called again into the left path.

“Scratch?”

She pressed the light back on and turned around to the opposite hall to try calling that way. Something on the floor glinted in the beam of light, calling her over to inspect it. She now held one of the best possible clues she could have found as she looked at Scratch's glasses.

Her moment of joy was ruined as she looked the glasses over. Scratch might have accidentally dropped her headphones and player in the entrance way but her glasses were practically glued to her head when she was awake.

She stashed the glasses in the bag and followed the smaller hallway.

“Scratch?”

She called out a few more times but her voice got weaker as she walked. As much as she wanted to be strong, keeping her legs moving was taking everything she had.

“Finish?”

Finish froze up, the camera dropping from her mouth.

“Scratch!?”

“Finish?”

The voice called back from further in the building but it had responded! She ran, the camera gripped tightly in her teeth so she could move quickly without bumping into the walls.

“Finish? Is that you?”

“Yesh, Shcratch, it'sh me! I'm over here!”

More divergent hallways confused her, halting her hooves in their tracks. She stopped, listening for Scratch to call her again.

“Scratch? Vhere are you?”

She waited for the response, looking left and right as she nervously stamped her hooves. Minutes passed as she rapidly tapped her hoof.

“Scratch?”

“Finish? Is that you?”

It came from her left! Light back on, bouncing back and forth as she jogged, she went deeper and called out to Scratch to keep her talking.

She peered into every room she passed, the light sliding over blackboards and broken desks. It must have at once been a magnificent classroom wing with students passing through constantly. The next cry knocked her out of her searching, pointing her even further inward.

“You're not Finish!”

She was spurred on faster and she could see the half-fallen sign over the door that Scratch's fearful cry had emerged from. The words were barely legible in the dark and the bouncing light illuminated it only briefly as she burst through the door. Library.

“Scratch!?”

The library was huge. A high ceiling and several floors, each filled with rotting bookcases and mildewed books. The smell immediately filled her nostrils and she stepped back as it hit her in one big wave. She snorted through her nose, trying to blow the smell out but it stuck and filled her lungs. She coughed but didn't have time to worry about that as she called out again.

“Scratch! Vhere are you?”

“Finish?”

She had calmed, calling to Finish from between the book cases.

“Scratch come on! We need to go! Get over here!”

“Finish?”

She repeated the word again in her concerned, searching tone.

“Yes! Come!”

“Finish?”

She realized too late how low the temperature had dropped and was dropping. The scattered, scant remains of ponies littered the library and her tiny light barely penetrated the almost growing darkness.

Her father would have slapped her for being so careless.

“You're not Scratch.”

They emerged from the shelves, two of them slipping slowly from the dark recesses of the aisles. Jaws hung open and blank stares met hers as she backed up. The closed door she'd never heard moving bumped into her. Her escape was cut off.

“Finish?”

They circled around, others emerging from the cases, three and then four more sirens encircling her, their mouths slackened and their recordings of their last victims sounding over and over, their voices covering one another.

“Finish?”

“Finish?”

“You're not Finish!”

“NOOOO!”

The last one chilled her bones and she saw them slide forward, their splintered legs not even bothering with the pretense of movement. They had one more message for her, a mockery of her search that would be added to their eternal call, each one speaking in turn.

“Scratch?”

“Scratch?”

“Scratch! Vhere are you?”

“You're not Scratch.”

Finish fell to her knees, her legs shaking too hard to keep her up. She was going to die and Scratch was or already had died. At the end of her life, she would die in one of those unknown corners of the world without ever putting up a fight. She couldn't force a sound through the huge knot in her throat to sing or cry or to even call for help that would never come.

Cold hooves were lain upon her and she felt the chill of death seize her heart. The harsh whisper in her mind forced her eyes open in recognition.

Her father. He'd come to mock her in her last moments but she refused to look at his new form, pale and diaphanous and standing over her like the king of all creation, like he usually did.

She would have expected nothing less from her father. The only time he ever bothered to speak to her was to make her feel worthless in her time of dying. She'd always thought the same things about herself...but he'd said something unforgivable. Attacking her was one thing but...but even if he was her father, he couldn't say that!

She forced herself up and the feeling of hooves on her shoulders disappeared, her legs still shaking and her teeth clenched as rage pushed the fear out of her body leaving nothing but smoldering hate. A roar rolled up from deep inside her.

“”

There he was beyond the ghosts, somehow having moved closer to the shelves. The sirens startled as she yelled, their broken jaws swaying as they jumped back.

“”

Finish stomped forward, her eyes glued to her father and completely ignoring the fiends surrounding her. If she'd been able to see herself, she would have seen her eyes glowing with red rage that made the ghosts shrivel at her advance, cowering back like whipped dogs.

“”

Silver Salt stood there, his face the same stoic look he always wore. No expression betrayed his thoughts on his daughter's sudden temper. All he did was raise a hoof and point at the camera around her neck.

“”

He faded from sight, leaving her there in the glow of the cowering monsters. Her anger made her scream after him now that she had the power to talk back to the one pony she'd always wanted to yell at.

“”

Her glance fell on the camera about her neck and she saw the spirits slowly rising to their feet, their fear of her abating. One floated forward again as it's hunger returned, it's mouth open and parroting again.

“”

She lifted the camera, hoping she'd figured out her father's insinuation. The flash went off, the lens focused squarely on the being's long face as the capture button went down. It reeled back, it's ghost-flesh sizzling and melting away, the body rotting into a puddle of blue that quickly evaporated into thin air.

Faced with their sudden frail immortality, the other spirits flew away, fleeing back into the shelves and the upper floors to hide in their dilapidated sanctuary and leave this all powerful killer to her own devices.

She was alone again in the barely silence.

The sound that broke into the deep silence was the small crackling of breaking glass. Bits and pieces fell through the again steady glow of the flash. There was something wrong with the lens.

Instead of the fear she'd shrouded herself in up to now, this only provided a minor annoyance as she flipped the camera around. The cracked filter frame was all there was. No actual lens sat under it, just a hole where it normally would have been. The actual lens...wasn't there.

She didn't know how the camera worked and her father had already disappeared. Did the camera really need the filter to work? Where would she get another...?

And she was looking through the solution. The only other lens within miles was on her face and they were pretty much useless without both sides. Of course, Scratch's glasses were in the satchel but they weren't hers to break.

She removed the frames from her ears and put them on the ground. Carefully placing a hoof on the glass, she pulled up on the earpiece with her mouth, popping the lens out.

“Now, how do I get it to-”

As she placed the lens into the ruined filter it snapped to it automatically, almost as though...it had been designed for it? Had her glasses been used in the creation of the camera? She gave it a twist and felt it stick, wedged in the filter frame.

It wasn't impossible. She'd received the glasses from her father and the camera had been his as well. It didn't really matter to her as she stepped further into the library, looping the strap over her neck and pushing the frames of her broken glasses into the satchel.

Scratch had come through here and if she couldn't see the body, she refused to believe her friend was dead. She'd move heaven and hell to find her and Celestia help anything that got in her way.

She was no longer afraid of what the dark was hiding as her hooves kicked books and scrambled through the tunnel of ancient pages. Now she was what hid in the dark.

Jump to top

Chapter 11

Final Chapter

Her new found anger carried her swiftly through the building and having a certified ghost slayer around her neck didn't hurt either. The library had gone on quite a ways and she'd been careful to listen at every cross-aisle, hoping to avoid any new conflict as she slipped through.

If she could have asked one of the spirits she would have but their intelligence had been stricken down to animal levels when they'd lost their Equinity. Every time she heard them call out, she listened, wondering if she'd hear Scratch. It was the only way of knowing if her friend had passed through the area.

The center of the library widened into a massive roundabout encircled by shelves. The glowing forms sat perched on the high places as though resting, waiting for their next meal. The central fixation of the library was an enormous statue of an earth pony, it's powerful body rearing back and it's eight legs clawing the air.

Finish had no idea who it represented or why they had eight legs but it would have been a magnificent bit of sculpture if the ghosts hadn't draped themselves over it and begun using it as a glorified roost.

“Let me go!”

Finish snapped her head to the sound. One of them had used Scratch's voice. She dimmed the light with a hoof and peeked out from her hiding place.

One of the ghosts flitted about in a small group, playing Scratch's voice over and over. Finish flinched every time the recording cried out.

“No! Don't do this! What are you going to do to me?!”

The others released their own sounds, numerous screams and cries that had been collected from years of haunting and stalking those foolish enough to come to the college. The way they played the anguished noises appeared to be their replacement for laughter.

“Where are you taking me?!”

Scratch had been crying in that clip, hics breaking through every other word. Finish had heard enough. She slid out of her hiding spot, circling until she could see each of them in her viewfinder. She flipped the camera to non-flash mode and let it focus on their luminescent bodies. It briefly occurred to her to wonder how she could see the ghosts through a lens that had blocked her from seeing spooks for as long as she'd owned them. But the only thing that mattered was that it worked, not how.

Click.

The new lens actually caused the camera to recoil in her hooves but she held steady. The small group of spirits exploded as though a bomb had gone off, their bodies scattering about and melting in mid-air. Their stunned brethren looked around and took off when they couldn't see where the sudden attack had come from. Soon the room was quiet, leaving it safe for Finish to leave her hiding spot.

Her hoof shielded the flash lantern as she crept down to the base of the statue. What else could Scratch have dropped? Her music player and glasses were already with her. What other clues could their be to lead Finish on?

The light of her flash lantern fell down into a jagged hole in the floor at the base of the statue. Spiraling steps flowed down into the darkness, leading deep underground. She stared down, wondering just what was going on. Where had they been taking Scratch? She'd never seen spirits keep ponies alive for any reason and whatever reason they could have could only have disastrous implications.

The thought of what they could do sent a chill down her spine. She eased her hooves down into the hole and descended, stopping only briefly to pull her father's journal from the bag she carried.

Surely he knew what was coming.

She walked slowly, keeping one eye forward as she flipped to the back of the journal, almost dropping the shards of broken lens she'd stored there. A quick flip of the page pressed them firmly into the center as she kept glancing over the scribbles that made up her father's handwriting. The last entry provided only the vaguest revelation, dated only days before Finish had gotten the news of her father's death.

<40 years of plotting and planning have all come down to this. Years worth of research have gone into the camera, research into the rare Moonstone that I had to beg, borrow and steal to craft lenses for my weapon. The stone will eat and store spirits, trapping them forever. It's the perfect weapon and yet...I'm still scared. HE's been sitting there ever since the beginning, waiting for me to come back, growing stronger as he entices more victims into that place. In only a few hours, I can make up for what I did 40 years ago.>

It made little sense to Finish who only understood the basics of spirit types but it seemed that whatever was down there had been claiming souls for even longer than she'd been alive and...Scratch was next.

Finish wouldn't let that happen.

She put the book away and hurried down the steps, feeling a slight tremble in the walls. For a moment the whole stairwell swayed and small stones burst from the wall, skittering down the steps. It was soon over, as though something had merely pushed the whole college and let it settle again.

It was impossible to tell how deep down the stairs went but the cobble walls soon gave way to uncarved stone and the steps were little more than chiseled earth.

The stairs ended in front of a stone archway over which hung a tattered bit of parchment with arcane symbols written over the entirety of it. A ward to keep whatever was beyond from leaving the confines of this improvised prison.

Surely whatever was beyond had been the 'Him' her father had kept here. And whatever it was, it had wanted Scratch brought to it.

Her steely nerve and grim face cracked as soon as she set foot beyond the ward.

It was like stepping into an all new world. The air was thick and every step was labored as though it were trying to crush her into the ground. Her breath came out in frosty white puffs and her body shivered as the extreme cold pierced her coat. The only sound as she looked around was the chattering of her teeth

An endless underground cavern opened up all around her, the walls too far away to catch any of her tiny light and a path that led straight ahead. The sides dropped off into a dark chasm with a bottom too deep to see.

The further in she went, the heavier her body became as the oppressive atmosphere pushed down on her. Each step became a momentous effort that drained her strength as she peered ahead, her eyes flitting about for any sign of a white coat or blue mane. She stopped. Something was there. It wasn't Scratch and it wasn't anything she could see but the air squeezed her from all sides as some unknown force seized her body rolled over it.

She could feel her resolve melting, terror besides her own invading her body and whispers of past victims passing through her ears. Her father had often said that nopony knew what evil truly was. He'd said it was indescribable, something to only be experienced and known by those unlucky few who could be so violated.

This was evil.

She thought of Scratch and set one hoof in front of the other, forcing her body to keep moving until she stood at the end of the path, sweat spilling from her brow and freezing on her face.

A giant crater spread out before her and even in the darkness, she could see something roiling and twisting in there.

The booming voice came down on her, physically pushing her back several feet. Far above her, wide blue eyes slowly opened and looked down on her. Finish could see the source of the whispers as hundreds of souls swirled in the pools of it's eyes.

It was impossible to tell what the thing was, what HE was, but it was impossibly huge. It's presence filled the cave and threatened to stop Finish' heart through sheer force of will.

It's gaze focused on her.

Finish felt her mind being overpowered, her fear and anger slipping away and being replaced by a presence not her own. This thing was seeping into her.

While she could still think, she called out to the impossible thing.

“I just vant my friend back! Please...ve just vant to go home.”

Something parted in front of the being and Finish's frail light inched forward.

“Scratch!”

Finish could barely lift her hooves but she slid them along the stone, grimacing as every one of her muscles strained to take her to her friend.

Scratch lay there, her body periodically twitching. Her eyes were wide open but blank, staring at nothing as Finish desperately tried to force her way through the thick air.

See...?

“She can't see them like I can!”

HE groaned and rolled his face closer.

Finish looked at Scratch's body, her thoughts racing. How could it be? Scratch had never said a word if she had even known.

Despite the pressure, the fear, the cold and the tears freezing on Finish' face, she stared up into those blue orbs. A frail, weird pony looked into HIS eyes and spoke and told HIM what he could do.

“You can't take her.”

Her hooves rose with the slaying camera, HIS eyes squarely in the viewfinder as she pressed the capture button. The intense pressure held her down as whatever force erupted from the camera and surged forward. A great cry went up, thousands of voices howling in unison as his spirit sizzled from the attack, HIS eyes going wide at recognition of the device.

Again, she had to do it again!

The camera steadied in her hooves as HE came into view again but a rush of force crashed into her, sending her flying through the dark. Up and down lost all meaning as she spun and dark swirled around her. Her back struck the ground and she knew where she was again, bouncing along the path, scrapes and nicks appearing as the rough stone cut into her.

She struggled to get upright, her limbs trembling with exhaustion from moving through this world, but she couldn't stand. Her body collapsed, hooves shaking back and forth as she tried to put some life into them but failing.

It was quiet save for single sound coming closer.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

She twisted her head, looking back towards the monster. Her camera was in the way, sitting on its side directly in front of her face. Only a faint halo of light came around it, slowly getting closer.

Tap.

Scratch stood over her, a slight glow coming off her horn to light the way. She smiled at Finish, her teeth practically fangs as she placed a hoof on the camera.

“I was ready to give up and sleep for another decade after I killed your father, considering the damage he caused me with this. I can't possess a body like the others I command. I've devoured so many souls that a normal body can't contain me and ends up exploding. Your kind are the only ones I can safely take.”

HE smashed the camera, stomping on it repeatedly but carefully avoiding the pink lens. A kick sent it over the edge, no sound of it striking anything as it fell and the only weapon HE ever feared disappearing with it.

Scratch's face knelt by Finish's as HE whispered in her ear.

“She's scared Photo Finish, and she's weakly thrashing her will around in here. She's crying. But she promises to behave if I just let you live.”

Scratch's tongue darted out and licked her lips as though trying it out for the first time in a long time. Finish couldn't muster the strength to feel anger as her heart started to beat slower. Perhaps it was HIS presence that was killing her or perhaps her will to live was dwindling, but she could feel herself dying. Darkness crept into her vision as Scratch blurred in front of her.

“I've been watching you ever since you came in. Fear didn't save you by letting you run away. The courage you found when you wanted to protect Scratch didn't get you very far. The rage your father, Silver Salt, gave you didn't last very long. You tried so hard, child. Sleep now.”

HE stood and walked past Finish, leaving her broken body and fading mind behind. HE wouldn't kill her.

Her last few thoughts turned to her mother, waving her to a warm kitchen. Scratch was there too and they would sit together and the three of them would talk in that cozy room forever and laugh.

The beats of her heart were irregular now, slower.

That's what heaven was. That's what death would be like. To be together with those who'd loved her. The place she'd been happiest.

A new vision rose from the dark in her mind, a new thought.

She remembered the swirling eyes HE had. Howling, angry and sad souls trapped forever behind blue orbs that would use them as fuel to take more souls and reap more ponies. There would be no heaven for them. Her mother would never be with her if she were taken and Scratch would never be free, forever the host body of that Revenant. There would be no one in Heaven to greet her.

Her hooves curled weakly around the satchel at her side. Her heart pumped again. She could feel her will to live return even as her body cried out in pain at being forced to move.

One hoof up, another, then her back legs. Her back was in agony where she'd landed on it.

“Vait.”

HE stopped, glancing back at the miraculous recovery. Scratch's eyes looked at the bruised, panting, freezing pony and waited.

“I was being generous, Photo Finish.”

Finish looked down at the bag and slapped it open, knocking the flap back and sliding the journal free.

“If I let you go, you'll take everyvun I ever cared about vith you. Even if I die here und go to Heaven, it'll be vorse dan Hell vithout my family und friends.”

She took the journal in her mouth, limping towards Scratch's body. She could see HIS aura surrounding the body, a great black energy that snapped back and forth like wild fire. HE walked closer, meeting her halfway.

“Is that what you really want? Eternal torment is fine as long as you don't have to be alone? You're willing to give up and die?”

She looked up at Scratch. Finish swayed, barely able to stand under her own power.

There was no way to know if it would work. Did light have to pass through the Moonstone to make it deadly? Did the Moonstone have to physically touch her enemy?

“I didn't say I vas giving up.”

She bit down on the journal and sealed the pages together. She swung her head, weakly slapping the side of Scratch's face with the journal.

The flickering aura around Scratch was blasted to the side as a beastly screech erupted from her throat, a cry worthy of the most tortured souls in hell. Scratch's body fell back, eyes wide in shock and pain. Finish had hurt HIM.

Finish gripped the book in her teeth harder, biting into the soft cover.

“I may have lived a hard life. I may have shrunk back und cowered und cried my vay through de hard times. But I never gave up!”

Finish stumbled forward and brought the book down again, slapping the top of Scratch's head. Another shriek filled the air as the moonstone in the book reacted to the presence of HIS strong spirit, tearing and ripping at it, trying to pull it from Scratch's body.

“You couldn't understand how far I'd go for Scratch! You couldn't know how miserable I vas in Canterlot before she showed me real kindness! You don't know much I love her!”

Scratch's face twisted in a snarl as HE tried to put distance between Finish and himself. Black tendrils sprang from his aura, diving at Finish and grasping her legs, forcing her to the ground and dragging her forward.

“I wouldn't understand loneliness!? I can't know your pathetic misery!? I've been trapped here for forty years because of what your father did when I was alive! We were friends and he betrayed me! He made me what I am!”

HE stood over her and Scratch's aura coated hoof readied to crush Finish's skull.

“I hope you enjoy your private hell Finish. Maybe you'll learn what true torment is.”

The hoof lanced down and...stopped.

It trembled, shaking as it tried to dive through Finish' face. A single tear dripped down Scratch's angered face, spilling from her chin and landing on Finish cheek. Was it Scratch? Was she actually slowing the control of the mental titan in her own body?

“Do it...Finish.”

The words were Scratch's and a shaky smile half formed on her friends face. If she were going to save her, now was the time.

Finish rolled, swishing the book through the tendrils and breaking them as she got to her feet. Black tendrils floated over her body as it jerked, Scratch fighting inside as Finish fought outside.

Finish twisted her neck, mustering whatever strength she could for a last blow.

The book careened through the air, Finish mustering a real hit for the first time that surely even Scratch felt. It slammed into her cheek and her body fell back, the greatest roar of pain from HIM echoing through the cavern and bouncing off the walls repeatedly.

Finish collapsed as every bit of strength left her. The book fell from her mouth and the bits of pink moonstone fell too, now black as pitch.

The scream faded and with it the oppressive atmosphere. The pressure and cold lifted as suddenly as Finish had encountered it, real air traveling deep into Finish lungs as she took her first deep breath in a while.

“scratch?”

She called out weakly, unsure if Scratch would even hear her, and waited for a response. She listened in the quiet dark and heard nothing. Without the glow of Scratch's horn, Finish couldn't even see her.

She prodded her muscles along but could only crawl very slowly, pulling herself an inch at a time every minute.

There were Scratch's hooves. Her legs. Her stomach. Her hoof stayed on Scratch's chest as she rested from the effort of crawling. Something was wrong.

There was no rise and fall of breath. No gasp for air.

Finish couldn't muster the energy to be terrified. There was no emotion left to feel as she pulled herself further along, taking Scratch's head in her hooves. Her flesh was cold.

“Scratch...Oh, Scratch...dis is...it's all my fault.”

She nuzzled Scratch's neck, burying her face in the electric blue mane. Her grip tightened on the body.

“I'm so sorry. Don't hate me Scratch. Don't hate me.”

A cold hoof touched her back but she refused to look up. Whether her father or, possibly even Scratch herself, she didn't want to see.

“Don't hate me...”

A sudden violent gasp shook Scratch under her, her body jerking upward as air filled her lungs. Finish stared in amazement, wonder and joy but her mouth couldn't make up it's mind what to say.

“Scratch...oh...! Wha... It's...you're alive!”

Scratch sat a moment, stunned and looking down at her hooves with Finish wishing harder than she ever had in her life that she could move and give her friend a great big hug.

A slight horn-glow illuminated them both as Scratch's mouth hung open. Her stupefied look turned to Finish but she could force no words to come out.

She looked around but Silver Salt was gone. Only a moment ago he had grabbed her out of the air where she had been watching Finish crawl up her length and pulled her down, taking her closer to her own body. He'd whispered and Scratch was scarcely sure she heard him correctly before she was thrown down and pulled back into her own body.

She leaned down, taking Finish' hoof in her own and settling her forehead against her. Those last few words had surprised Scratch considering everything she'd heard about Silver Salt.

-One Month Later-

“Okay, take down dese lights und pack up everyvun. Photo Shop, please send de photos to Sapphire Shores und Rarity und sit vith Fleur vhile she looks hers over.”

Finish handed out assignments to her assistants, making sure they knew just what to do before she took off for a long weekend. It would be her first vacation since her return and, just as throwing herself into tons of work had healed her mind (as well as several visits to a therapist), she still needed to heal a weary heart.

“Pardonne moi, Finish?”

Fleur de Lis approached, putting on her most charming smile. For some reason Finish' assistants kept glancing over at the two, as though they expected something interesting to happen.

“It's about those new glasses. Your tres lache assistants wanted me to tell you that they think your new glasses are a little garish. I happen to like neon blue but it clashes so with my mane.”

The working assistants all turned away, sweating bullets as they tried to pretend they weren't there. But somepony had to say something! The color was simply garish.

Finish merely smiled a little bit and adjusted them to sit straighter on her nose.

“I know. But dey vere a gift. You know how dat is.”

Fleur nodded and shrugged at the assistants.

Oh, she was here.

“I'll see you next time Fleur.”

Finish left her team to clean up and walked over to Scratch who had come to meet her at the shoot in Canterlot. Despite the mid-summer night heat, she wore a blue hoodie that would have given anypony else heat stroke. Ever since the incident she'd had trouble staying warm.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Ya. I'm sorry about dat. Just...just had to get some distance from vhat happened.”

They had barely spoken since they'd returned to Canterlot. Scratch and Finish had both gone to the Royal Guards office when they'd returned and made reports. The guard working the front desk had almost told them to get lost as they told their story until Princess Celestia herself had shown up. A simple magical alarm was set up to detect key words that would call her at a moments notice.

Sleipnir's Rest had been a high priority disaster area and Silver Salt had been the one in charge of the area ever since the original incident. Surprisingly to Finish, he'd been one of the most highly respected members of the Royal Guard Paranormal Task Force. Celestia had been devastated at the news of his death and terrified at the two girls tale, immediately dispatching a large group of her best guards to check the area.

The building had proven mostly safe except for the crumbling infrastructure and the shards of lens had been just where they'd been left. The general public would never know the truth though as Celestia liked to keep the huge disasters under wraps. Of course, the offer of a private photo shoot in exchange for silence had made the deal an easy one to accept.

They said nothing as they walked down the street heading towards the club district. Scratch had invited Finish to another big show and, after a few weeks of rejection, she'd finally agreed to come. It was time try to put the past in the past.

“How's your mom?”

“Good. The pills knock her right out. I suppose dat's vhat magic vill do dough. I vas going to visit her next veek...and she keeps asking about you...and she vanted to know if, maybe, you could come.”

Scratch levitated her glasses off and tucked them into her neckline. Things had been weird between them. In truth, each was miserable without the other.

“I'd love to.”

The formal chatting, the stiffness in their greetings, it all felt so weird and uncomfortable.

Finish stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and tugged on Scratch's hoodie. They had a hard time meeting each others eyes but they finally drifted up to one another.

“S-scratch...um..about vhat happened-”

Scratch tackled her, wrapping her hooves around her neck in a tight hug that was almost choking.

“I missed you so much! Don't you dare try to blame yourself for what happened, Finish. I love you no matter what.”

Finish closed her eyes and hugged her back, equally tight. She had missed the DJ but she'd almost gotten Scratch killed. She'd barely had the nerve to face her this time. But as tightly as she was being held, all the fear melted away.

“I love you too Scratch. I'm sorry, I vas just so scared uf vhat vould happen.”

It was as if the curtain lifted and they were themselves again. They trotted down the street, talking excitedly about the entire month they had spent apart. Scratch had a brand new style she had dubbed “Ghostcore” and was eager to see what the reception to it would be. Finish had her new gallery show coming up with a surprise royal model.

They stopped and stared a moment when a lonely blue shade floated by on the other side of the street, each quiet as their necks craned after it. Finally fading from sight, they instead turned to look at one another.

“I've been seeing those a lot more lately. Do you know how many dead ponies come to my shows?”

Finish chuckled out loud. Even if she weren't 'normal', she didn't need to be. The ponies who truly loved her, loved everything about her and she loved them even if they were a little weird themselves. That's what friends did.

Jump to top

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The ride was long and lonely as they rolled through the green and unpopulated countryside. Conversation had died out quickly as the two found less and less to talk about and the carriage pulling ponies weren't exactly loquacious themselves during any part of the day long trip. The only time they offered any conversation was as Sleipnir's Rest came into sight.

“Almost there ladies.”

Eager for a change of scenery, Finish and Scratch leaned out of the windows and took in the new sight.

The red dusk sun lit up the small village, casting shadows off the ten small homes that housed, seemingly, the entire population. Fields of grain took up most of the horizon, indicating the towns main source of income.

Photo grabbed her camera off the seat, looping the strap carefully over her neck so as not to drop it out the window and took a quick picture.

The carriage stopped in front of a building slightly larger than the others with a simple sign out front reading “Bar”.

“Last stop. Everypony off.”

The stiff girls stepped out of the carriage and stretched cramped limbs as the puller ponies placed the passenger's bags in the dirt at their hooves. Scratch stopped them as they began turning the carriage around and tossed them the fare for another ride.

“You boys already leaving?”

They shared a look and even as one of them responded, they were already walking away.

“Lady, you couldn't pay us to stay here, especially after dark. You paying us to come pick you up? We normally only stop by once a week.”

She yelled after them before they were too far gone.

“Tomorrow?”

They stopped just a moment, the quiet one looking around nervously as his boss considered.

“Sure, but it'll be late, same time as now. Be ready to leave.”

Scratch sighed wondering where Photo had wandered off to and why she wasn't doing this.

“Yeah, that's fine.”

The boss nodded, at least from that distance Scratch thought he did, and they hurried down the road. She should've asked what they meant by that “not if you paid us" crack but she'd been too concerned with getting home at that moment.

Looking around, it seemed like any other town. Any small town anyway, but now that the sun had dropped from the horizon and all the buildings were blanketed in night, she could see why no one would want to stay. Not a single noise could be heard. Neither animals or wind made any sound in the distance and for someone who'd lived in the city their whole life, it was very disconcerting to hear so much silence at once.

A dim flash of light startled her out of her thoughts, making her jump back. Photo stood there, camera at the ready and a diffuser fitted over the flash bulb that had just gone off.

“Geez, don't do that! I told you before, ninja photos of me are a no-no.”

“Sorry, I got caught up. Dis town is so...neat looking.”

There was the Finish Scratch rarely got to see. The serious minded photographer who trespassed and lost herself in her work. The one who made 'De magicks'.

Scratch levitated both of their bags for them as they entered the building marked Bar. As good a place as any to start looking for information.

The inside of the bar was dead. Only two stallions were inside and one of them was the bartender, nodding at them as the girls stopped at the counter.

“Pardon me, but perhaps you can geeve us directions to de funeral home? Und maybe tell us vhere ve can get a room for de night?”

Still wiping a glass that wasn't getting any cleaner thanks to the dirty rag he used, the bartender smiled.

“Afraid there aren't any inns in this town. Too small for travelers to do anything but pass through. As for the other thing, you probably mean that creepy mare in the old part of town. She's about a mile up the road. Wouldn't recommend seeing her myself.”

“Vhy's zat?”

Scratch stuck her tongue out disgustedly as he spit on the rag and kept polishing the cup.

“Couple of girls like you oughtn't be traipsing around at night like that. She's only open after dark.”

While Scratch groaned at the idea of having to walk up the road in the dark, the mere idea drained all the color from Finish' face. Dark on an airship was fine. There were other ponies around. Night time in Canterlot was still pretty bright and, once again, another pony was always a stones throw away. But this was two miles of deep darkness practically alone with nothing but the stars and moon to light the way.

“Well, at least it'll let us stretch our legs. C'mon Finish.”

A rather rough grab stopped Scratch.

“Maybe...maybe ve try in de morning anyvay? I mean, she'll open de door if ve pound hard enuff, ya?”

The bartender butted in again.

“Won't do any good. Ponies have tried it before. I guess she's”

and he turned to his buddy at the bar and let out a few barking laughs.

“dead to the world!”

The formerly quiet pony at the bar threw back his head and belly laughed, banging on the wooden counter so hard it shook. The laughs gave way to a coughing fit and the bartender reached around to slap him on the back which did little to no good. His friend stopped coughing after a moment and the bartender sighed, still chuckling.

“Whew, that was a good one.”

Scratch rolled her eyes at the lame joke and gently peeled her friends hoof off her arm.

“Don't worry Finish. It's just a little jog down the road and it's a full moon. There's nothing to worry about. The sooner we say goodbye to your dad, the sooner we're back to make sure your mom is okay. And do you really wanna stay here with Heckle and Jekyll all night?”

Finish shook her head.

They were almost done and she could go home soon, to both her mother and Canterlot and never have to think about, talk about or have anything to do with her father ever again. She just had to do this, fear of the dark be damned.

“You're right. Okay.”

At request, the bartender loaned the girls a lantern and they stepped outside, facing the road through the wheat field. There was nothing to show that the sun had been up only recently as the warmth of the day drifted up into the atmosphere. A mostly full moon shone down at them, a few clouds covering it's face. It reminded Scratch of the photo now hanging in the royal palace.

She took a quick photo of it, knowing it could only turn out blurry.

“What was that back there? You're not afraid of the dark.”

“I am vhen it's dis deep. Und ve're alone.”

Scratch smiled mischievously, remembering what Faux had said upon seeing the two of them together.

“Don't worry, you're not really my type.”

The tension drifted away as Finish laughed at her friend's joke, feeling more at ease as they walked down the dirt road.

A few sparse trees began to appear in the wheat fields as they walked, until they were entirely surrounded by trees. The bright green leaves rustled slightly on the branches that now blocked out the moon.

“Hey, is that her house over there?”

Finish saw nothing as she scanned the treeline.

“Vhere?”

“There, isn't that her house with the lantern?”

A chill wind crawled through the forest as she looked harder, Scratch trying to point the light out.

“Dere's nossing dere Scratch.”

“It's right-”

Scratch stopped mid-sentence as the sound rolled out of the deep forest. The catching, labored breathing was faint but noticeable and the hair on the back of Finish neck stood on end.

“No...”

She flipped her glasses up and looked again, a ball of swirling, bobbing fire right where Scratch had pointed. More appeared out of thin air and Scratch whirled on her heels to see the same pendulous fireballs on the other side of the forest, some drifting closer as they swung.

“”

She grabbed the DJ's arm roughly, almost pulling it from it's socket as they fled down the trail. The sudden jerk broke Scratch's concentration on the lantern and it tumbled to the ground behind them.

“The light-”

“Shut up! Just run!”

The sobs were now getting closer, hounding their steps as Finish tried to push her legs to go faster. Despite herself, she had to look back, to confirm the nightmarish truth.

Looking over her shoulder was one of the worst things she'd done in her life.

It was there, exactly as Finish thought it would be. The hazy blue form pounding it's hooves noiselessly on the dirt path, it's fading mane pushed back as it chased. The worst were it's legs. As if someone had taken a dull axe and hacked at them until they were splinters and shards of ethereal bone.

Finish never saw the root in the path that sent her sprawling, falling chin first in the earth and rattling her brain in her head. Her camera shattered as her full weight fell on it, smashing it into her throat.

“Finish!”

Scratch stopped and rounded to help her up, catching her first glimpse of the thing and screaming so loud it reverberated through the forest. Her hoof grabbed Finish, trying to haul her up but the crash had knocked both the sense out of her head and the wind from her lungs. Her pleas for divine intervention went unheeded.

“Oh Celestia, Celestia save us...”

Finish knew there was just the one thing that could save them now. She whispered into her friend's ear, her throat too sore to talk above a whisper. What Scratch heard sounded insane, as though the blow her friend had taken had been to much for her mind. Even as the thing approached, only twenty feet away, Finish whispered words in her native tongue that Scratch hadn't learned yet. It was what the photographer rasped last that made her do it.

“Trust me.”

So Scratch sang.

The words came out shaky, filled with fear of dying and only the barest of confidence that Finish hadn't lost her mind, but she sang.

“Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf.

Der Vater hüt' die Schaf,

Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein,

Da fällt herab ein Träumelein.

Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf.”

The thing stopped just short as her voice filled the path, trotting to a stop mere feet away. It tilted it's head, looking at the two frightened ponies, the blue orbs that represented eyes staring hard at them.

“More feeling Scratch. Put your heart into it.”

She kept singing the same lines as Finish got to her hooves. Her mind was clearing but her throat was going to have a magnificent bruise in the morning. Looking into the trees, she could see the lights, the Will 'o Wisps, disappearing like stars winking out.

The ghostly pony listened intently, its' head nodding a bit with every other word. After three verses it turned its' back on them, trotting back into the woods and disappearing.

Finish slowly pushed Scratch into a walk but she didn't stop singing for fear of whatever 'that' was would come back. She only looked at her friend in sideways glances that accompanied unasked questions. Finish' glasses were back over her eyes and staring straight ahead as though nothing had happened.

If she could have seen more clearly in the dark, she would have seen her friend trembling.

The funeral home was soon in sight, it's bright orange lanterns in no way similar to the Will 'o Wisps. Entering the pools of light gave Scratch the confidence to let the song trail off though she kept looking over her shoulder at the forest. They stood there without saying a word, either trying to forget what had just happened or trying to make sense of it.

Scratch tried to look through those thick glasses Finish wore but saw nothing in the low light. They both knew what was coming.

“What the hell was that Finish!?”

“I can't-”

“You don't! You mean you don't want to tell me! I'm your closest friend Finish. Trust me a little!”

“No-I-You vouldn't understand!”

Scratch stamped her hoof, anger and hurt bubbling up in her.

“You won't let me try! What is so bad that you've been hiding this whole time, that you think is going to make me turn around right now and leave you here? Do you really think so little of me?!”

“OKAY!”

Finish screamed at the top of her lungs, her throat hurting where she'd been hit. Scratch flinched at her friend raising her voice to her and felt her heart skip a beat.

“Okay.”

Finish reached up, a shaky hoof trying to grab hold of her glasses. Unicorn magic pushed them up a little, enough to sit in her hair.

“Sanks.”

She took a breath. Just spilling everything...this was going to be new for her.

“Vell, zat vas a ghost.”

“Derp, no duh.”

Her hoof flew to her mouth when she said it, realizing she was being snippy.

“Sorry.”

Finish shrugged her shoulders a bit and continued.

“More specifically, it's a Shredded type. The spirit is so vorn out dat it turns to an evil being dat attacks de living. It's probably vhy my papa vas here in dis town. To kill it.”

“Your..um...your mom told me. About his being a paranormal researcher.”

Finish shook her head, a sad smile on her face.

“Mama must really like you if she told you. She stopped talking about him vhen ve left. Did she mention dat Unicorns don't like other ponies messing vith dere magic stuff? Don't you care?”

“I don't care.”

That short sentence stopped Finish cold. Her father had told her all the time about how rotten Unicorns were. Selfishly guarding their arcane secrets and leaving the other races in the dark when a magical catastrophe was almost upon them. Scratch had dismissed everything her father had told her in three words.

“Den you're better dan most. Did mama tell you about the first nine years uf my life? Vhy ve vere alvays moving from town to town?”

“Your dad's job?”

Finish shook her head.

“Zat vas only de part. Ponies can't see ghosts or spirits under normal circumstances. It's easier at night or vhen you're alone. Easiest vhen you do both. Vhat do you sink happened to de little filly who could see dead ponies all de time? In class? Around town? In restaurants and stores? Vhat do you sink oders said to her vhen she told dem dat dere vere ponies dere vhen dere veren't? Vhen I gave dem messages from dead relatives?”

Scratch had nothing to say. Words were starting to come faster to Finish, her history spilling out. Now that she was talking it was getting hard to stop and she was breaking. Everything she'd held in over the years was coming to the surface, spilling out in a torrent of tears.

“Dey'd say, 'dere's de veird filly. De vun who sees dead ponies everyvhere!' None uf de oder parents vould let me play vith dere children because I vas veird! Den ve'd move and it vould start all over again. I vas alvays 'de veird filly', Scratch! I don't vant to be de veird filly! I just vant to be normal! I just...vant...to be like everyvun else...”

She fell against her friend, sobbing her eyes out. Big tears soaked Scratch's chest but she didn't care. She held her friend close, patting her head and doing her best to comfort her through what she'd forced her friend to tell her. Even as she cried, Finish couldn't stop talking.

“But...my fader...he made me use it. Mama wanted to help me, to find a stable place to live so I stayed vith papa...but he didn't have dis curse. I vas his dowsing rod, his little tool in pig tails! He never loved me, he just loved vhat I could do...dat bastud...dat...bastud...I had to look at dose sings and more like dem...every damn day...”

She finally reached the point where she couldn't talk through the tears. Her head hurt, her chest hurt and to her she had just scared away her best friend. That's how it had happened every other time. She told someone and they never spoke to her again.

But Scratch held her friends head, calming her and stroking her hair, whispering to her.

“Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm sorry. You've been holding that in for so long. I'm sorry for dragging it out. I don't hate you. You're still my best friend Finish.”

This only made Finish cry harder. No one had ever been able to just ignore her curse like that, to embrace her like this and make her feel so safe. Scratch wasn't sure how long they stood there, her hooves cradling the distraught mess her friend had become, but it didn't matter. Eventually sobs became hiccups and those became sniffles... and then silence. There would be no questions tonight even though this new world had opened up in front of Scratch.

Despite resting all day they were both exhausted, mentally and physically. They leaned on one another as they made their way to the door of the grave-keeper’s house and knocked.

And waited.

Jump to top