Catastrophic Charm

Big Macintosh was back in his nightmare again.

He knew he was, as he was still followed by lust's chain. Three women, whom were all mentally unstable, in the act of chasing a man of purity and goodness, made the perfect setting for a grim bloody fable. This man was the small, innocent and fearful rabbit, and they were the lanky, hungry and menacing pack wolves - all of this was due to their respective Xanatos Gambit.

It was unfair, the man believed so. Their so-called 'love' was in the air.

Far from the park, the running man tripped in the dark. His pained gasp was forthright; it echoed throughout the cold night. Struggling to get up but succeeding, he still swore under his breath. He did not want to die a violent death; not now, not later, not ever. But it was too bad he couldn't sever his 'relationships' with them whenever.

He limped near a desolate rocky street. Now he had to be discreet. But what was the point if his feet left bloody tracks? There was no time to relax. 'Survive', his mind screamed. The stalkers were soon to arrive. He did not want them breathing down his neck - for their damning presence, there was no need to check.

He leapt over the wooden fence that barred his path. He would certainly meet his doom if he was ever cornered by at least one psychopath. To keep running away was his plan. Those women were just misguided and their love for him was forever unrequited, and he could never bring himself to hurt them even if other men can.

His destination was the apple farm, where he hoped he would not come to any harm. His own home was going to become his safe haven. In the dark fog that followed, a single deep caw was let loose from a raven. The house was in his sight - and the windows were ripe with golden light. Never did he think he would be glad to see them that bright.

But then he skidded to a stop, for a figure stood between him and his house...

There was no mistaking that light blue tank top. It was Rainbow Dash.

And on her left cheek, was a nasty gash.

"Hello, Mac. Still running?"

Macintosh went into a full-blown panic. That 'loving' look in her eyes had immediately turned manic.

He turned tail and ran the opposite way. So much for attempting to avoid one of them for at least a day. The rainbow-haired woman watched him run with glee; he was oh so fast when he had to flee. She let him go, giving him a head start - she did not have the heart to keep up with him before he had gone the length of a stone's throw.

True to her feelings, she reappeared a few yards in front of him. His chances of evading her completely were slim.

She stepped forward menacingly, brandishing the same jagged, but now bloody knife that the first stalker held devilishly.

"You do know that I can always catch up to you, Mac. Why run? We were made for each other. We should be together."

"We're only going to be together when I'm dead, you crazy bitch!"

"Then I'll make love to your dead body!"

The man was left silenced. His urge to scream at this claim was unsuppressed.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"No!"

She closed the distance, raising the knife. Mac began to wonder what caused her obsession with his life...

[>!<]

Big Macintosh groaned as he was waking out of his dream world.

He was still lying on the floor of his room, and a blurred Applejack was in his vision. His vision then cleared; everything remained the same since the last time he had seen them, albeit the fact that his sister now looked relieved at him. She immediately offered a hand to help him up - and he slowly accepted it. Only when he was on his feet did he feel the effects of his concussion.

"Ow."

"Mac! Are you okay?" She asked quickly.

Her other hand held a bottle of pills."Feel dizzy? Feel like you want to vomit? Forgot what happened?"

He reached for the bottle, but instead of taking it, he lowered her hand down. "No, not at all."

"Are you sure?" She insisted.

Mac grunted and massaged the back of his head. "Yes, Applejack. I'm sure."

He glanced at the clock, but his eyes didn't linger on it. How long was he out?

Rather than finding out for himself, he turned to his sister. "How long was I out?"

"Thirty-two minutes." She said simply.

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? I was out for that long?"

"Yeah... you were breathing deeply too. Sounded like you were running for your life." She mused, mostly to herself.

Big Macintosh paled. "I was?"

She nodded, then her face changed to convey worry. "Yes."

"What's going on with you, Mac? Is there something you're not telling me?" She continued.

"There is... but I'd rather not tell you. You won't look at things the same way again." He mumbled.

"Just please, Mac, tell me. I can handle it." She said, but there was a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Big Macintosh leaned closer to her ear. "You won't. For your sake, I'm not telling you. This is my problem, not yours."

"Brother... please." She begged. "You've become cold and withdrawn. Apple Bloom's scared of you now. I am too."

"I... I can't." He looked away slowly. "Like I told you, this is my problem, not yours. Let me deal with it alone."

"Please!" She half-sobbed. "I don't know what's happened to you, but you're still my brother! Let me help you!"

It took his entire will to ignore her. "I'm going to go bucking now. I'll see you outside."

Applejack slowly broke down sobbing as he left his room. It was killing him deep inside, but he had to endure it. But compared to the horrific things he experienced, this was an easy one to manage. He sighed as he stopped in front of the first apple tree in the first row of many apple trees. He dropped his deep baskets under it.

The apple bucking on his side of the ranch was going to take some time. But Big Macintosh was fine with this. It was better than letting his family know that three psychopaths each wanted him for their own - dead or alive - and that they would hurt or kill anyone who would even try to stop them from getting him.

He sighed again. He hoped that he would do no deliveries later today to three certain places he wished to avoid...

[>!<]

Deep in Everfree Forest, a house's inhabitants were slowly coming to life.

Fluttershy yawned as she rose from her slumber. Angel Bunny, who was sleeping on her chest, fell down without warning. From his messy position on the bed, he sleepily glared at his owner, shutting his eyes again to get back to sleep. She giggled, then picked him up and placed him to a more comfortable position somewhere else.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." She said, scratching her pet bunny's ears.

The fluffball enjoyed the feeling, then hopped to the bed and returned to sleep on her pillow.

She smiled at this. Fixing her bed minus the pillow, Fluttershy stretched and promptly went to take a shower.

Her smiled widened with each step, for she was busily scanning the pictures that she took and glued on her walls. They reached the ceiling, where she had painted a blue butterfly wing design on it to match the colours in her room, now covered completely. All the pictures she glued on to every blank space she could find shared a similarity:

They all held pictures of Big Macintosh. And some of them weren't of the decent kind, too.

Out of all the pictures, two particularly stood out. In one, there was Big Macintosh, giving a sleeping Apple Bloom a piggy-back ride on the way back to the farm from school. Beside him was a smiling Cheerilee, holding a book close to her chest, looking at the man. Well, that was what she looked like in the picture before Fluttershy crossed her out.

The other one had Big Macintosh in his jeans, with a half-naked Cheerilee straddling him in her apartment. The picture was taken through a window, so the images were slightly blurred, but it was clear enough for Fluttershy to draw a red circle around her head. As for the man, there were some written text near him, but they were smudged.

The captions on the same picture read "DEAD" below the woman and "MINE" below the man respectively.

The pinkette stopped in her tracks to observe the second picture. She dropped her smile instantly.

"Soon..." She murmured, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife wound she sustained on her arm last week.

"You will be mine again, Macintosh. That bitch will die for taking you away from me." She hissed. "You will be mine."

She proceeded to enter her shower after calming herself, taking off her clothes.

She had a lot of things to plan.