Demons

"There's nothing out here! you're getting old, you're off your rocker!" teased an old, motherly voice somewhere off in the distance.

"Now darling I swears I heard som'n out here, and I ain't resting 'til I find it!" rebuked another, grouchy voice.

I was in some unfamiliar forest, stranded among the trees and bushes. There, in the middle of a clearing, stood two ponies-a mare and stallion-searching through the bushes; the stallion searched with much more gusto. They looked amish, or at least very, very old fashioned. I quickly stood behind a tree so they wouldn't see me, but accidentally hit something solid with my foot. Looking down, I saw that young colt again, Isaac, crouching among the plants, shivering and trembling from either the cold or fear, or both.

He didn't notice me, I must have been dreaming, although this didn't register consciously. Isaac looked terrible. A bit older, he was, skin-and-bones thin, fur worn in some places to the skin, and matted beyond belief in others. His mane was a mess too; too long, and absolutely filthy, as if he had been living in the wild for a year or two. And he probably had been.

"There!" called the stallion, pointing at where Isaac was crouching. I felt him tense up. Sure enough, they had spotted him; the couple dashed over to him, and I slipped away unnoticed. The mare scooped up the poor child, motherly concern filling her gaze, "What in all of above or below did this to you, you poor thing?" She asked, picking out debris from his mane.

Isaac didn't respond, only squeezed his eyes shut as if he were wishing to be invisible.

"Let's take him to town," Suggested the stallion, "We can see if he belongs to anypony there, and if not, we'll take him to the orphanage.

Isaac didn't seem to like that, he began pushing and squirming, trying to get free, but that old mare had quite a strong grip, surprisingly.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling noise in the forest behind me. Spinning around, I managed to catch a glimpse of what looked like a shadow darting across the forest ground, but nothing more happened after that.

I turned back around, and ended up in some place different. I was no longer in the forest, but now in the middle of a town, next to a certain house. It seemed familiar, but I wasn't sure.

There, on the porch, sat Isaac, a few years older than he had been a few seconds ago. He was a proper young teenager by now, he'd probably start puberty soon. He sat on the porch, quietly sniffling and consistently wiping away tears, as if he were holding it in.

Suddenly, that mare came out of the door onto the porch. She saw Isaac there on the porch, put a disappointed, but relieved, hoof on her face, turned back towards the open door, yelled, "See what you do, Hutch!" and slammed it shut. She then walked over slowly towards Isaac, settling down gently next to him. "Hey," she said in a nice, motherly voice, "It's alright, he didn't mean those things he said."

"He was right, though," Isaac responded, wiping his face, "I was stupid to...to..." tears started welling up.

The mare let out an, "Aww," and wrapped her forelegs around Isaac, "No, no, you weren't stupid, you just didn't know any better, it's our fault for not teaching you." She then turned towards the door and yelled, "Hutch! Get out here and apologize!"

"But Darla..." came a disappointed voice from inside, "He needs to be disciplined!"

"Hasn't the poor boy been through enough?" Darla responded.

Hutch made a disappointed sigh, then came outside, sighed, and said, "Yeah, alright, I apologize, son," to Isaac, "But y'all shoulda' known better...!" He trailed off as he saw Isaac sniffling and his little green eyes quivering. He couldn't help letting out an, "Aww," of his own, smiled (no, really, he smiled) and settled down next to Isaac, wrapping a big, strong foreleg around him, "Yeah, it's not your fault, son. It's ours, we're sorry." and he gave him an affectionate nuzzle through his mane.

Isaac giggled, stopped crying, and settled down more comfortably between the two. Then, after a moment of silence, he said, "I love you guys,"

This clearly surprised the two adoptive parents of young Isaac, Hutch even whispered, "He said he loves us..."

Darla shushed him, hugged Isaac tighter, and said, "We love you too, Isaac." Hutch then scooped the boy up onto his back and suggested, "Why don't we go and have some peach cobbler, boy?" and they all went inside together.

Such a nice scene, It made my heart feel happy.

Then I blinked.

In an instant, I was again transported to a new location. It was night. The house had burnt down, and was now nothing more than a pile of cinders and ash, with a multitude of ponies throwing water all over what remained of the fire.

There, far away from the burnt down house, sat a doctor, consoling and treating Isaac, who hadn't changed a bit, as if the fire had happened very, very soon after the scene I had just left. Isaac was in shock, he did nothing except stare at the ground while the doctor checked his vital signs.

Then, another pony dressed in a crude, old fashioned fire suit came jogging over. Isaac looked up when he arrived, but the firefighter did nothing except take off his helmet and look at the ground.

Darla and Hutch had perished in the fire.

Isaac clearly understood that. He just closed his eyes as tears streamed freely out from under his eyelids and his lips started quivering. The doctor could do nothing but hold the colt close and try to comfort him as he broke down in choking sobs.

Suddenly, Nana's words echoed throughout the air, but I seemed to be the only one that could hear them, "He could save the lives of every and anypony, except the ones closest to him..."

The last thing I remember seeing was Isaac some time after that evening, being lead up to a large, stone building by the doctor. It must have been an orphanage.

I awoke back in Twilight's house, in a cold sweat. That poor colt, Isaac! First his Nana, now his adoptive parents! I had so many questions. Why was I having these dreams? Was Isaac me? No, no, Isaac couldn't have been me, his mane and eyes were a different color than mine. Plus, he didn't walk on two legs.

I looked over and saw 'my' journal on the table next to me. I wanted to open it and read it, all of it, but I dreaded what I would find.

I ignored it all, pushed my dreams away, and went downstairs, slipping on my trench coat as I went. Maybe Twilight had made breakfast by now.