There is a theory that everything in our world is created from thought. Everything you see is there because somepony has thought of it. Whilst some may dismiss this thought as mere wishful thinking there is, actually, some evidence to back this idea up.

In the my town there is a certain pink pony who is rumored to be able to sense events that are about to happen, although one must wonder if these events only happen because she is sure they will. For example, what if she was so sure that, say, a flowerpot would fall that it simply does?

A less personal example would be one that we're all too familiar. In almost every town there is an icecream pony. He or she has a bell on their cart to let the foals know he or she is there. But in every town there are those foals who are a little too adept at hearing the bell. Maybe I just never developed the ability to hear the icecream pony as well as the other ponies. But everyone I talked to always said they could never hear it as well as the others. Perhaps when the foals call out "Icecream Pony!" they are actually calling him into this plane of existence?

Of course, one could look further into this. What if this book that you are reading was actually not written by anyone? What if it was simply an idea somepony had and never wrote it down? I can assure you that this is not the case, although perhaps these words too were simply thought into existence. I am afraid you will never know if anypony wrote this.

There is a darker side to this idea, as well. If every thought creates an object or creature what of those who are insane? Do their twisted thoughts of eldritch horrors occupy a part of Equestria? Or perhaps beyond? Does this mean that, somewhere out there, there is a creature beyond the understanding of our top researchers? A being that, to be blunt, does not make any sense?

This book shall touch on such questions. Until you read further, just try not to think about it too much.

Sand Storm put down the book on his now dusty desk. His psychiatrist had recommended that he read something to take his mind off of his previous case. She may of been right, getting lost in a story could of perhaps helped. That is, if the story she had given him weren't so damned . . . dark.

There was something Storm didn't like about this book. Something that made him shiver every time he tried to read it. Perhaps it was the fact that the front cover was nothing but black with a red cross on the front, or perhaps it had something to do with the fact the author never actually mentions their name. Or perhaps it was because when his psychiatrist had given it to him she seemed to forget about it instantly. When he had tried asking her about it she swore she had never seen it in her life.

The worst part about this book was how Storm just couldn't get rid of it. He'd forget about it for a while, go about his every day tasks and then find it in a draw later. The thing is, Sand Storm would never leave a book in a draw. He had shelves of books for a reason. So how did this book keep turning up in draws? Hell, he'd even tried selling it once only to have it returned by a pony who demanded a refund. Needless to say, there was something wrong about this book and he had hated it since his psychiatrist had given it to him.

He wouldn't even need a psychiatrist if he had refused the last case. During that time he had been thinking about quitting being a private detective when some poor mare begged him to investigate Buckinghill Manner, offering him all her life savings in return. When he had arrived at Buckinghill Manner, he was greeted with what can only be described as the most gruesome sight he had ever seen.

There were what looked like torture devices lining the walls of the room and the floor was soaked in a suspiciously red ooze. Not blood, although he certainly thought so at first. The ooze was too gel-like to be blood. Too . . . squishy.

The walls were lined with monochrome statues of creatures that he shuddered to think about, ranging from a creature made entirely out of organs that seemed as if it were almost writhing in pain to an eyeless robed monkey that seemed to give off an aura of darkness. The creatures made Storm feel insignificant, as if he was not worthy enough to look at them.

There were symbols drawn on the walls, although when he looked at them he couldn't quite tell if they were circular in shape, and from below he could hear chanting, although he couldn't quite make out what the words were. They certainly did not sound like any words he had heard before.
It only took him a minute to flee.

But if the book were to be believed then the statues of creatures he had seen really do exist. Surely nothing of such extreme horror could really exist. Why would they exist? What purpose could they serve to exist?

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Sand Storm jumped at the sound.

Once he recovered he quickly rushed over to the door, passing a few items he hadn't packed up (including the book). However, as soon as he reached the door he heard a voice.

"Sand Storm, right? Look, I have a job offer for you," came an artificial voice from outside the door, "But know that if you open this door I will have to kill you. I do not want to kill you, Sand Storm. I don't want to kill anyone. But after. . . I will if I have to. Please, just don't open the door."

Storm paused.
Why had this pony disguised their voice?
Was it someone he had wronged in the past?
But the pony had said he didn't want to kill Storm.
But he'd only managed to pull off a voice disguise spell twice. Why would anypony go through the trouble of using such a powerful spell just to talk to him? Although, he may not be classed as a powerful unicorn.

"I'm not in business anymore. Go away," Storm called out, the annoyance in his voice barely audible.

"I'm not quite sure if you can turn down my offer," the voice called back.

Damnit! Sand Storm hated that voice so much. It made it impossible for him to tell what emotions the other pony was feeling.
". . . What offer?" he asked, captured by curiosity.

"Answers," the voice called back, "I can tell you anything you want to know about the book . That is, once you have fulfilled your end of the deal."

Storm, once again, paused.
This pony claimed to have information on the book that had mocked him repeatedly.
The book that had made him more traumatized than he had already been.
But how did the pony know about it?

"I presume by your silence you're in agreement, Sand Storm. Even if you are not, you have taken the time to hear me out. This is good."- the voice called out as a piece of paper slid under the door- "This is Ponyville. Go there. You will find the town eerily empty. Ignore this. The residents do not take kindly to strangers. There used to be a time when they did. That's in the past.

"In this town you will find a tree that is also a house. It will be empty. Go inside. Close the door. It is important that you close the door. Search the house. In this house you should be able to find the answers you seek. Go back to the entrance. If the door is open, run. If, at any point of your search, the lights go out; run. If you hear a noise that did not come from you, run. If something is not where you left it, run. If everything is fine, I will knock 4 times on the door and proceed to speak. If you hear more or less knocks, run, there is a window you can jump out of on the top floor. If I do not speak, run. If my voice is not the one you hear now, run. If you hear an echo in my voice, then it is too late for both of us. You will die a horrible death as will I. If everything is fine, report what you found to me. Do you wish to accept my offer?"

Storm froze.
Those warnings were just . . . terrifying.

"W-why do I run?" Storm called out, his voice cracking.

"Because if you do not, not only will you die a slow, painful death but you will also help Equestria die a slow, painful death. I trust this is not something you want. I will ask one more time. Do you wish to accept my offer?" The monotone voice replied.

There was no way Storm could accept this offer.

"I'm afraid I do not," Storm called back.

Answers were not worth death.

"I really wish you'd reconsider, Storm. Please. I need to know what happened to them," the voice called back, and if it
weren't for the monotone voice disguise Storm would of sworn that the pony was crying.

He turned to go back to his desk when he saw something that made him instantly rethink his decision. It was the book.
It was infront of him, and it was on a page that simply read in big bold letters:

"I AM WATCHING YOU, STORM"

Except the words seemed to be vanishing. Not disappearing from the page, but odd symbols seemed to be encasing the words, making them vanish. Storm hadn't left the book there. He had left it on his desk.

Answers or a slow painful death both suddenly seemed to be better than being trapped with a book that could not only communicate with him, but clearly meant him harm.

Storm levitated the piece of paper that had been slid under his door up to his face.

It was a photo of what looked like a happy town, however the photo had been crudely cut up in the center and had a second image merged underneath. The second image was taken in the same place, however it showed a much darker Ponyville. The trees were dead, the houses falling apart and a grey fog had rolled into town. It was clear the image editor had tried to hide the fact that the photo had been magically changed, the colors in the second image were unnaturally bright and didn't quite follow the colors of the first. However, if Storm hadn't worked so long as a private detective, he wouldn't of been able to tell that the image had been modified.

He focused his attention not on the photo but on the cuts. At first the cuts looked random but upon closer inspection it was clear that the cuts were trying to hide ponies. If Storm had to make a guess he'd say around six or seven of them.

". . . On second thoughts, I'll go," Storm called out to the door.

"Thank you so much, Storm. I knew I'd come to the right pony," The monotone voice called back then added, "What happened there broke me. Please, Storm. Don't let it do the same to you. I couldn't live with myself if I made anypony else go through what I had to."

Author's Note

This is my first time attempting to write a horror/dark story. Whilst the themes of this story were touched upon in this chapter I'm planning on introducing darker concepts in the next few chapters.