The Shining Descent

The Shining Descent

By: The Sentimentalism Brony

Chapter 6

A Ball to Remember

Pacing back and forth in there suit Fluttershy was in a state of panicked dismay. Big Mac had been gone for over an hour to investigate that Celestia damned hotel room, and had yet to return. The limbo she stayed in was causing her to become conserved, and perhaps antsy. She was beginning to contemplate leaving the room and go on another search for her husband. But that was until the door opened with a loud, thunderous crash.

Stepping through the door, Big Mac huffed and puffed enough to have knocked the Three Little Pigs brick house down easily. Kicking his hooves against the ground dismissively, he walked into his and Flutters bedroom, to be greeted cheerily by her.

“D-did you find her? Was there anypony in the room?” Fluttershy questioned with an obvious state of concern.

“No,” Big Mac replied bluntly. “I didn’t find nopony up there, just an empty room.”

“That can’t be.” Fluttershy was starting to think; perhaps Apple and she were coming down with a state of cabin fever. But that couldn’t be. Apple had to have seen somepony up there. He just had to. “You did go to the room Apple said, didn’t you? To room 237?”

“Yes, dear, I went there.”

“…And you didn’t see anything up there?”

“No,” he replied back, “not a single thing.”

Walking over to Apples room now, Big Mac questioned, “Is he okay? How is he doing?”

“He’s fine,” Flutters replied, “he’s still sleeping though.”

“Good.” Big Mac said peeking into the darkness of the colt’s bedroom, all before retreating his head and closing the door so it was slightly less ajar than before.

Turning to face Fluttershy, he placed a hoof on her shoulder and coxed her into the other room. It was from here that Big Mac continued to hold Fluttershy as she shuddered, sobbing deeply. He brushed through her mane, cooing to her softly to reassure her that everything would be okay.

Raising her head and looking directly into the strong stallions emerald green eyes, Fluttershy began to question the situation and, perhaps her abilities as a mother. “What do I do, Big Mac? I just don’t know what to do anymore… It’s like I’m on this downward spiral, and I just can’t stop. I feel as if I’m losing control.” She looked away, continuing her loud sobs. “What about Apple? Will he be okay?”

Stroking her mane while he spoke, he said: “I’m sure he’ll be his regular old, bouncy self in the morning. There’s no need to worry.”

Flutters mind turning back to the room of question, she continued to prod for information. “Are you sure it was the right room? Ma-maybe Apple made a m-mi-mistake.” Her words oscillated as she continued to talk through the tears.

Big Mac, now looking down, spoke softly gently about the situation. “He had to have been, though. The door was open, and the lights were on. It couldn’t have been any other room.”

Fluttershy still couldn’t understand it. The bruises on his neck, the way the door just ‘so happened’ to be open, the lights were on. There was too much information pointing to the fact that somepony else was inside the hotel with them. Why else would the lights and door be open?” Ghosts? Ghouls? Demons? It was all highly unlikely. To outrageous to even think of, let alone actually exist.

Pulling away from her mate, she looked back towards Apple’s room and spoke. “Somepony had to have done this to our son, Big Mac.”

“Fluttershy,” Big Mac stated, his voice turning into that of a more serious tone. “We need to think of all the possibilities here. And maybe…And maybe he did it to himself?”

Turning back from the door in an instant, Fluttershy defended her son. “No! That’s not possible… Why would he do such a thing?”

“But Fluttershy.” Big Mac grasped her hooves, and held them closely to his chest. “Once you rule out his story…There’s no way… No other explanation in the book, as to who did this to him but himself.”

There was no response.

“It wouldn’t be that different from the stunt he pulled before we came up here.”

The stunt he spoke of was the incident where a call-in doctor had been called upon to visit there residence. When Nurse Redheart arrived, Fluttershy had told her Apple had been complaining of a constant headache, which never seemed to dissipate. And upon questioning Apple, he told Nurse Redheart that he has been hearing somepony talking to him, telling him to do things. When she questioned further, all Apple could give her was the voices name, Prism. Nothing more, nothing less. The Nurse had pressed further, curious of Apples condition, but he informed her that Prism had told him to cease speaking of him. Fluttershy was then recommended to take action, and study his behavior more closely. “Perhaps he needs to be placed into a mental institution, Mrs. Fluttershy.” Nurse Redheart told her. But Fluttershy would never abandon her child like that, especially over something so small as a voice caused by a headache speaking to him. That was ridiculous. Mad pony talk.

“I think…” Fluttershy finally spoke up. “…We need to get Apple out of here. There is something not right about this place. I can feel it, Big Mac. Can’t you?”

Big Mac chortled slightly at what Fluttershy had just suggested. “Get him out of here?” He repeated, slightly confused at first.

Flutters nodded.

“You mean… Just pack up and leave the hotel.”

She nodded again.

Big Mac stood, composure still flawless, before he broke down. “It is just like you to make a problem like this. When I finally have the chance to accomplish something…For us… When I’m really into my work! You go ahead and fuck it all up.” He got into Fluttershy’s face and continued to scream out of control. “I could really write my own success story if I went back home now, couldn’t I?” He pulled away from her face, turned around, and smacked his forehooves on the dresser in front of him. He looked into the dressers mirror and continued to yell. “Working on the farm again! Digging holes, plowing fields, and bucking apple trees. Does any of that really appeal to you, Fluttershy? Does it really?”

Fluttershy rose her hoof attempting to make physical contact with Big Mac, but he smacked it away, and pointed his hoof in her face. “I’ve let you fuck around with my life for so long, but I’m not going to let you fuck this up for me.”

Retracing his hoof, he placed it back to the carpeted floor, and made way for the front door. Reaching the door, he flung it open and it smashed into the wall with a loud thud. He stepped out into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind himself before storming throughout the hotel.

2…

Striking various silverware and glasses from their roost, Big Mac trudged through the Overlook’s sparkling kitchen and into the long hallway towards the dance hall.

Walking down the hall, Big Mac’s ears perked up as he could hear the soft melodies of an ensemble playing from the dance hall. He ran down the short hall to the pair of open double doors he had left open earlier. Looking into the dance hall, he could see various ponies all about. Some sitting at candle lit tables, eating meals, and generally chatting each other up. The other half of the group was on the dance floor, slow dancing to the soft melody being played in the background. The tune was mainly brought forth by the magnificent violin and cello, which beamed with sound that projected to all corners of the glorious hall.

Genuinely interested in where this would go if he were to stay, he walked into the hall, which upon entering he was greeted by a gentlecolt dressed in a black jacket, and red bowtie. “How about a jacket, sir?” The stallion then reached out to Big Mac, black jacket in hoof. “It would fit the occasion much more, then simply wearing nothing, good sir.”

Still curious of the event, Big Mac took the jacket and thanked the stallion for his generosity. He then walked through the hall and made his way towards the bar.

Sitting down on the same stool as he had before, Mix-a-lot approached the counter, and welcomed Big Mac to the Ball. “Hello, Mr. Macintosh.”

“Hello, Mix,” Big Mac responded. “Been away for a while, but now I’m back.”

“And it is so wonderful to see you, Mr. Macintosh.”

“Shaking his head up and down feverishly, Big Mac said: “And it’s great to be back, Mix...”

“So,” Mix began, picking up a glass as he started cleaning it. “What’ll it be, sir?”

“Scales of the dragon that bit me, my good sir.”

“Bourbon on the rocks with a shot of hard cider it is, sir.”

Shaking his hoof appreciatively, Big Mac chimed, “that’ll do her,” before grabbing a hoof full of assorted nuts from the martini glass next to him, and throwing them into his mouth hungrily. Chewing loudly, he turned his attention back out to the full hall. He could never have imagined it could look like this. The Great Ball of 980. How glorious it looked. It was mesmerizing.

The hall was covered in a thick blanket of cigar smoke, which made the whole room look like a foggy day. Everypony continued to talk, eat, and dance as if he wasn’t even there at all.

Clearing his throat to get the attention of Big Mac again, Mix cough subtly. As he turned back around Big Mac elicited speech at a low pitch. “Ah. Almost forgot.” He then took his bits pouch from his side and opened it up. Pulling a twenty bit piece from the confines of the pouch, he attempted to hand it over to Mix, who stopped him mid act.

Raising his hoof up to stop him, Mix said, “No charge, Mr. Macintosh.”

“No Charge,” Big Mac asked quizzically. What is this guy thinking, Big Mac thought?

“Your money’s no good here, sir.”

Big Mac looked down to his money, then back up to Mix. “Orders from the house,” Mix said.

Still remotely confused, Big Mac repeated the statement, albeit coming across as a question. “Orders from the house?”

Whereas Mix simply replied to it with, “drink up, Mr. Macintosh. You’re going to need it.”

“Mix,” Big Mac began to question, “I’m a stallion who likes to know who’s buyin’ their drinks for ‘em. “

“Mr. Macintosh,” Mix started up, bending his figure over the shellac oak countertop. “That is nothing of your concern, I assure you.” The tone in which Mix now spoke, was one of sternness, and solid composure. He spoke as if everything else in the whole world was more of a concern then the liquor Big Mac now drank.

“At least it’s not important at this point in time,” Mix finished.

“Whatever you say, Mix. Whatever you say.” Finishing his statement Big Mac rose to his hooves – Drink in hoof, and walked away from the bar into the whole of the seating area. Most of the ponies within it confines talked petty dribble that was little to no interest to Macintosh himself. So instead, he moved towards the dance floor, swaying side to side to the sweet beat of good Ol’ fashioned Jazz. The song sounded similar to a Jazzy interlude Foxtrot, coupled with a hint of Smooth Jazz sprinkled on top.

Continuing to sway towards the inner dance floor, a waiter pony walked by holding a large silver platter covered in advocaat, and stumbled into him, spilling the glasses contents all over Big Mac’s natural coat, and newly adorn jacket.

“Oh no, sir. Oh no.” The waiter pleaded, whilst resting his tray down on the bars countertop. He turned and began to wipe the drinks remnants from the black jacket, but is was doing no good. The liquid was beginning to settle in, and would prove harder to get out if he continued to try.

“I’ve ruined your jacket,” the waiter pony said.

“It’s alright, Jeevesy. No harm done. I got plenty of jackets.”

“Well, it’s advocaat, sir. It tends to stain. The waiter pony then bent over and proceeded to pick up the two fallen glasses that did not break on the hard, tiled flooring. He then began to speak. “I think the best thing to do …Is to go into the gentlecolt’s room, just over there.” He pointed to the room with his free hoof before continuing. “And try to remedy this situation with some water.”

Finishing picking the glasses back up, and placing them on the bar counter top as well, the waiter turned back around to face Big Mac. Big Mac noticed a splotch of advocaat on the waiter’s jacket as well, and pointed it out to him. “Looks like you have gotten a spot on yourself, Jeevesy, my friend.”

“Doesn’t matter, sir. You are the important one.” They then made their way towards the bathroom.

“Well that’s awfully nice of you to say, Jeevesy.”

They stepped into the bathroom, Big Mac holding the door for the waiter to enter. “Here, let me just hold this for you.”

“Why thank you very much, sir… Now let’s see if we cannot improve this situation with some water, shall we?” The waiter pony then grabbed a washcloth from above the basin and dipped it into the water within. “This should help some, sir.” He then turned back around and began to pat and rub at the spill on Big Mac’s jacket. “I shall not keep you more than a moment.”

“Tell me, Jeevesy. What do they call you around here?” Big Mac questioned.

Charming, sir. Charming Tail.

“Charming Tail?” Big Mac questioned with wide eyed bewilderment.

“Yes, sir.” Charming replied. “Mr. Charming Tail…”