The Ledger

by Vermilion and Sage

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character
Length: 10326

Legend tells of a a book, a bound amalgam of papers, with the names of the dead souls of Equestria. Temptation calls for use of such power...but take heed. Opening the Ledger may never leave your soul the same.

A collection of individual dark/creepypasta/horror stories. Nothing meant to scare your tail off, but I hope they give you a good shiver. Will be updated as I am able.

Written by 'red Sage
Cover art by 'red Sage

Published 2013-12-09 06:10:10 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-11 19:50:10 UTC

Entry One: Knock

“Hurry up, he's bleeding out!”

White lights drifted overhead and the rolling noise I could hear below coincided painfully with the vibration running through my ribcage. My ribs...oh Celestia they hurt. They hurt so much. I winced and closed my eyes again. It was going to go away soon, right?

“Around here! Set him up in this room. Cotton Swab! Run and grab me two pints from the blood reserves, O-Neg. Scalpelhoof, get the tools out NOW!”

That voice was loud and close. I opened my eyes again, and my vision was blurry. Trying to raise a foreleg to rub my eyes clear was futile, something was holding them down. There was noise all around, ponies talking, hooves clattering on a tile floor. Something was going on, and I wanted to know why I was hurting.

It took every last bit of willpower to raise my neck an inch from where I lay, furiously blinking my eyes clear as I did so. In the brief moments before somepony put a hoof on my forehead and shoved my head back down, I saw everything. Not that it made much sense. I was on one of those rolling hospital beds in a bright room, tiled and wallpapered in white. Oh...and there was red all over my chest and stomach. That didn't make much sense either. My coat was brown...not red of all colors.

“Please keep your head down sir, you're only going to hurt yourself worse.” The obnoxious voice rang again too close to my ears. Hurt? Yeah, I guess so. That would explain-

“OHMYSWEETCELESTIA WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“He's up! Scalpel, grab the detomidine.”

I was in full freakout mode, and the fact that this Dr. Scalpelhoof just stuck a needle into my rump made me scream in a very un-stallionlike manner. The thudding in my ears grew louder as the blood rushed through the capillaries, and I begged. “Why are you doing this? What is happeningwhydoesithurtohwhy...”

Beep. Meep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

That same sound that they play in the movies, the one that is ALWAYS in hospital rooms? Yeah, that sound was playing quietly somewhere just out of hoof’s reach. After pondering it for a few moments and collecting what I remembered, it stood to reason that it was my heart being monitored. Oh, and it sounded just fine. Nice even beeps, with no change in pace or pitch. I shoved my eyelids open to see one of the machines at my bedside just like I thought it would be, a jumpy green sinusoid playing across the front.

Yep. Still alive, and if the needle with the knob on it had anything to say, morphine was making my day even better. I couldn't see my stomach under the blanket, but if it didn't hurt that meant I was ok, right?

“Mr. Sprinkles? How are you feeling?”

Yeah. Sprinkles. That's me. Pastry decorator and volunteer at the soup kitchen. You never know when you'd meet a nice mare who was just there for a hoof up that you could keep in touch with…

“Mr. Sprinkles?” Oh yeah, right. A green earth pony was standing at the foot of my bed with a clipboard in one hoof. The way her hospital cap sat atop her blonde mane was just too adorable.

“Uhm, I feel fine. So how did I get here?”

“You had a laceration to your chest.”

“You mean my chest got ripped open.”

“Yes, that's the vulgar way to put it.” She frowned. Kind of adorable, and I might have made a comment if I wasn't feeling so tired.

“So...why did my chest get ripped open?”

“I was actually hoping you could tell me that. Nopony I've talked to since we brought you in nearly a day ago has had any information.”

I thought hard. I honestly did. It is not very easy to think with a powerful painkiller in your system. It's almost like trying to think when half-drunk. All that came back was pain, and fear. It was all blurry, and I felt that even if I could remember, I didn't want to. I gave an involuntary shiver, and the doctor sure noticed.

“Mister Sprinkles, I understand that it may be difficult to tell me, and rest assured you don't have to if you don't want to. However, if there is a pony out there hurting other ponies, your information might be able to stop him.” She was adorable when concerned, and it wasn't like I was intentionally making her act that way.

“I can't remember. Anything.” I answered honestly. I kinda wished I could help her. It would have made her at least stay longer.

“Well if you can remember, or if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to hit the button by your bedside and a nurse will come check on you. I'm Doctor Hypertonic.”

“Well thanks Doc. How long am I in for?”

“Probably two or three more days until you're stable enough to rest up at your own home. Your manager called by the way. Offered his condolences, and wanted to let you know you're on paid leave, and your insurance is covering this. So just focus on resting up and getting better.”

“Anything for a pretty face like you.” I answered with a grin. I would have blown her a kiss, but honestly, I doubted I looked good in a hospital gown, and my forelegs were feeling pretty damn heavy. She laughed and left the room.

Well...that could have gone better, but hey, a solid start. She had good news too. I had savings, perhaps even enough to pay for surgery and hospital stay, but what kind of pony wouldn't rather spend those on something else? Oh, and Rubber Stamp, my manager. I guess I didn't figure he cared enough to tell me I was missed. Another perk in life right? Anything to take away the fact that I'd just got cut up.

Cut up. That's a nice way to say 'nearly died'. I tried again to focus on what had happened. The images came back still blurry, but at least it was something. Gray skies of an overcast afternoon. A calming walk through the woods after work, going to the waterfall a few miles in...it's starting to rain, I hate the rain...running through the woods as a growl sounds behind me gotta get away IT'S AFTER ME--

I shook noticeably, enough that I could feel my chest hurt. No point in trying to dredge up those memories if I'm just gonna hurt myself. For lack of anything better to do, I stretched out one hoof to turn the morphine dial one notch, and closed my eyes.

At some point that cute nurse came in to check on me…I think it was to check on me...said I’d gotten too much sedative...what does that mean...I’m not a jerk...I can share some with her and then we’ll both be happy...why is she looking at me funny...oh...please don’t go away...will I see you again...teheehehehee…

I woke up slowly. It's hard to get up on the best of mornings, and here I was in a really comfy bed with drugs in my system. The lights were dimmed, and somepony had left a glass on the bedside table. Reaching over, I found it had juice in it. Orange juice...ugh. Still better than the IV though. Stupid thing never made me feel full. I closed my eyes again.

Sometime later I awoke to the sensation of burning in a line along my chest. Trying to ignore it seemed to be pointless, as after a while I still wasn't able to go back to sleep. Opening my eyes revealed nothing more than that the room was still dark, and that nopony had taken the empty glass away. I kind of wanted more juice in spite of myself, so I hit the button for the nurse.

After a few minutes passed, there was nothing, no noise at all outside the door. The beam coming from the space under the door suggested that the hall was well lit, and I guessed it was in the middle of the night, so the hospital was probably short-staffed. I stuck my hoof on the button and waited a bit. I know it was impatient of me, but hey, I was bored, and hurting. After a few minutes I let the button go, and turned the morphine dial again. There wasn't much else to do, and I don't like being in pain if there is no reason to. After all, that stupid nerve impulse woke me up.

Twenty minutes passed according to the clock on the wall. It sure felt like longer, but those things usually don't lie. A third of an hour, and still no nurse.

That was annoying, and curious. I don't do well when I'm bored, so I decided to get up. So much easier said than done when you have an IV in each of your legs, and a wounded midsection. Sliding the covers back revealed where each of the IVs went into my legs, and a large gash across my chest. My brown coat was rent in a diagonal line stretching from my left hind leg to right about the middle of my belly. Stitches held it shut, but I knew I wasn't going to be running fast on it. That wasn't gonna be stopping me from getting up though.

I bit down on each of the needles and pulled them out. Goodbye food, water, morphine and I don't know what the tartarus the fourth one was for, but it was out now. Getting out of bed was trickier. One foreleg over the edge wasn't enough to make me slip, but if I put the second one out of bed, I'd slide out. Opting for the right fore and hind leg at once worked, but landing on the tile still hurt like crazy. My chest was throbbing, though I didn't see any blood coming from it, so I figured I was ok to walk.

With each step, my midsection twisted one way or another, and it screamed a silent protest to me. If I hadn't promised myself I'd at least make it to the door, I would have whimpered like a little filly and crawled back into bed. As it was, getting to the door took two minutes, and I did wind up whimpering something pitiful. Forcing my foreleg up, I opened the door.

It's funny how you don't pay attention to anything else when you focus so singly-mindedly on shutting out pain. Now that I could see into the hall, I noticed two things. First of all, it was empty. That figured for so late at night. The second was that the loudest sounds were my breathing and heartbeat. Everything else was still, which seemed odd. After all, don't most hospitals have a night crew taking care of things? Wheeling around stuff? Or if those darn TV shows are to believed, making out with each other in empty rooms. Celestia above I’d be pissed if I found two of them doing that.

Looking up and down the hall, I could see it was floored in the same white tile as my room, and there were plain wooden doors up and down the hall. According to a little plastic mount on the wall, I was in 323, and all the other doors started with a three as far as I could see each way. Great...all the way up here. How the hay did they get me to the third floor anyways? To the left after a few dozen lengths, I could see flights of stairs leading up and down, and to the right lay a ninety-degree turn in the hall, leaving me unable to surmise what might have been beyond. Not wanting to try my luck at the stairs, I slowly started to make my way to the right.

That bend in the hall was ten lengths away at most. Ten. It took a solid three minutes to get that far, a distance that would take me three seconds if I were well. That office better have some damned cranberry juice when I get there. By the end of the turn the pain had started to go away, or I had gotten used to it. Either way, by the time I rounded the corner, my vision was not in a total haze. That let me see...all the way down the hall. It looked just like the one now to my left, ending in what looked to be large elevator door. Why the hay anypony would build a hospital wing to look like a giant ‘L’ seemed like insanity to me.

For lack of a better option, I started toward the far end. Another five minutes of gasping and wincing, short strides and cursing in a much higher pitch than any stallion should ever make followed, but soon I was looking at the elevator door. It was as wide as the entire hall, and the label to the side proclaimed it to be a cargo elevator. One tap on the buttons at the side, and a dull humming resonated through the floor. Soon enough the doors dinged and slid open, allowing me to drag myself inside, and mash the button for the second floor.

Luck decided to favor me, or karma decided I had done enough for a little while, and the supply closest was waiting just to my right when the doors opened again, just opposite of what looked to be a break room. Score. In the first room I found everything. Really, everything-except nurses making out. While the room label declared it to be a ‘closet’, it was a whole storage room with everything from band-aids to liquid nitrogen to surgical tubing. Most importantly, there were assorted syringes, mostly things I really wanted to avoid, but a few that I really wanted right now. It took a bit of messing around with the plungers and my teeth, but soon my underbelly was feeling much better. Why the heck was that door unlocked anyways? Shouldn’t they keep narcotics out of the reach of patients? Ah well. About that juice…

The break room was every bit as clean as the rest of the hospital, thought it lacked the antiseptic smell. Three card tables and a few chairs were scattered about, but the room was still rather empty. Two brushed aluminum refrigerators sat against the far wall, and I felt almost drawn to them. A quick inspection yielded exactly what I was looking for: several sealed bottles of cranberry juice. I wasn’t really sure who's they were, but they were not labeled, so I figured I could always pay back whoever they belonged to. Speaking of which, why haven’t I seen anypony yet?

A half-pint of cranberry juice swirling around in my stomach (and not leaking out!) was more than enough to convince me set down the remaining two bottles on one of the tables, and head back out to check a few of the nearby rooms. The closest door with a light turned on inside was number 242. Between the painkillers and the juice I was feeling good enough that it really didn’t take all that much longer to march over to the door and to knock. There was no response, so I went ahead and opened the door.

Inside was a room almost identical to mine. Same off-white walls and tiling, bedside table, and patient monitor. The device was not reading anything off, for it wasn’t hooked to anypony. Instead, the contacts lay scattered on the bed and hanging to the floor. On the bed, the sheets and blanket were disturbed to suggest that they had once been slept in, but nopony had come along to make the bed. They were slightly raised in the middle, and off to one side, and the other side had been lifted back and was resting upon the bunch in the middle.

The next room was the same. And the next. And the next. Lights on, clean room, empty bed. I knew I should be feeling panic, or fear, but I wasn’t. I was altogether too numb. Each leg, my underbelly, my back, up my neck, and all my head felt like...nothing. Perhaps I had overdosed? There was no way to tell until something worse happened, and until then I was stuck, unable to feel, unable to fear, and sluggish of mind. Come on, think! Something is not right here. A hospital is always staffed, no matter what time of night, so at least the front desk should have somepony. And if something else is wrong...I can always leave.

The walk back to the cargo elevator was even quicker than the one before it. I must have hit the sweet spot in between numbing myself and knocking myself clean out. No pain, and I was almost walking as fast as I normally would...almost. The exhaustion was marking its claim upon my body; reminding me of how much blood I had to be short of right now. At least I had the few moments as the elevator hummed its way on down to the ground floor to catch my breath.

When the door opened, I was treated to a short hall that went around a corner. On the other side, I lost that breath I had gotten back in the elevator. The lobby was simple, with no windows or fancy decorations. There was an actual pattern in the tile, some random abstract piece. It was everything I expected, save for two things. The receptionists counter was empty. Nopony was behind it at all. The computer terminals were still turned on, one was even still logged in. But that wasn’t what caused me to freeze, it was the mass of chariots, market stalls and cinderblocks that been piled against the outside of the glass front doors.

The barricade went high enough that I couldn’t see the top of it, and it looked to be a solid three or four lengths deep. That would have been a lot to shift were I well, but there was no question now. It would take me several hours to move all of that, and it would make a lot of noise to do so. Just what the hell were they trying to do? Ponies need to be able to get into a hospital. They couldn’t be trying to...no. No way. At least there has to be a back door, right?

Curious, I hurried over to where the building layout maps were posted on a pillar in the center of the lobby. Three things caught my eyes: the way to the backdoor, a little note at the bottom of the top floor page which read ‘Roof contains emergency chariot landing pad, and fire escape,’ and that there was a basement level with a loading bay, bingo! Trying the basement door left me heaving my leg against a locked handle, the mechanism clunking against my efforts to get through. Heh. Looks like that one is out of the question. It was probable that the back door had been barricaded too, but certainly worth trying. I stared at the map long enough to burn the way there into my mind, and headed off that way.

My route took me through the operating rooms. I half expected to find something horrible lurking there, but they were empty. And clean. Clean enough that the smell of whatever the janitorial staff used to sterilize the rooms almost made me gag. Just past those were a number of locked storage closets, which meant I should be getting close. Rushing forward, with the very faintest dregs of excitement clutching me, I rounded the last corner.

The back door was a simple glass framed door, giving me a perfectly clear view of all the debris piled on the other side. No...no, this can’t be happening. How did everypony else get out if this building is barricaded? And why am I the only one left?! The thoughts ran through my mind as I hurried back to the lobby as fast as my exhausted and wounded body would carry me. I had to get out of here, now. Wait, can’t I just climb out a window? Perfect!

None of the operating rooms had a window, but there were a number of ground floor patient rooms which I sought out. Upon opening the first room, I found it the same way as the ones on the second floor; white tile and bare walls. The bed was messily unmade, though this one had a stain on it. That was the least of my cares, as the window was right past the bed-and it was clear of any obstructing materials. Just beyond the glass lay a lonely street of the city lit up for a solitary lamp; the most inviting deserted street I’d ever seen. The window would be a tight fit, especially with my underbelly how it was, but I needed out. The posture to deliver a double hind-kick is instinctual to all ponies, but we earth ponies always had a way with bucking the living daylights out of whatever we hit. I couldn’t imagine that it was terribly healthy for me to be doing so, but the window had no latch to open, so I saw little other way.

WHU-THINK!. That is not what shattering glass sounds like. Standing back up, the glass had two impact marks where my hooves had landed, turning slightly opaque in two nearly full circles. Confused, I hit it again, and again. The shock wave passed right back through my body, as if I were bucking a stone wall, and still the glass remained there. This can’t be. I ran to the next room. The window there was just as stubborn as the room before it, and by the time I finished failing to break it, I was exhausted. I guess there is always the roof…

The lobby was the same as I had left it, and I passed through with nary a glance and hurried to the elevator bank. I hoofed the little white button with an arrow up on it, and waited...and waited. Out of desperation, I punched the elevator button again, then leaned over and pushed one ear into the door. There should have been a hum, some sort of noise, but there was nothing. Muttering a low curse, I shakily made my way down the side hall to the cargo elevator. It was still open and waiting where I had left it, offering me a way out. There was a button labeled ‘ROOF’, probably for those emergency chariot deliveries. It lit up when I indented it, but the doors did not close. Nor did the elevator move, even after I waited, counting slowly to a minute.

An exasperated groan left my lips-I did not want to climb the stairs. I wasn’t even sure I could in this state, not all four floors to the roof. Waiting here though, did not seem like a good idea, so I found the stairs, and started to climb.

That first step was worse than getting out of bed. One leg up to land on the second step, then the next, stretching the stitches on my stomach tight, drawing a line of pain across my flesh. Third leg up, and it relaxed a bit, fourth up, and I was standing on steps one and three, not hurting anymore. This is really going to suck.

There were ten steps until the switchback, and ten more until the next floor. Eighty steps at least...damn. In the time it had taken me to figure that out, I’d climbed four. One leg up...then the next...then again...and again...my breath was going hard, and my underbelly screamed its protest at me with each stretch of my body. I should probably stop at that supply room and get more morphine...but would that be overdosing? Maybe what I got was a small dose, and I need more? Do I have the time to stop there? Such thoughts troubled me until I found myself level again, standing on the first landing. Seventy now…

Pain never gets easier, but it became a monotony; familiar enough to the mind that it was no longer a burden. It became the background to the landscape of my mind, the soundtrack of the movie of my existence, something that was there, but didn’t make or break the the climb. It was there the whole time, and stayed with me when I finally stopped at the second floor, gasping for air. The supply closet was at the far end of the hall, on the other end of the ‘L’. Arguments for and against going all the way there for a few syringes-and a bottle of juice-entered my mind, and I was bent on hashing them out when the lights went out.

Not just the lights, but the hum of the air conditioning went too, leaving me in the silence. I sat stunned for a few moments until flickering announced the emergency stair lighting coming on. The thin red light was too little help to make out anything more than the stairs, but that was all I needed to keep going. While I climbed, I tried to block out the pain and figure out why I was climbing in the dark. The city wouldn’t just shut off power to a hospital...that’s the last place they would shut off, even if the town were in trouble. So...did the equipment break? No...that stuff is always built to last...which means...somepony broke it. Oh Lady Celestia get me out of here!

It was impossible to go much faster up the stairs, but with a new determination in my mind, and fear pushing up against the chemicals in my blood, I kept going. One leg up at a time, one more echoing *thunk* in the stairwell, and it hurt. Just a little bit more. Two more switchbacks, and you’ll be at the top. Come on Sprinkles. When you get done you can get out of here and get back home, and sleep somewhere warm and cozy...and safe.

A muted *thump* from below broke through my inner monologue. It wasn’t so much that it was a loud sound as that it made me realize just how quiet it had been before that noise. I stopped to listen, and after a few seconds the same noise floated into the stairwell, a little louder. It was as if somepony were slamming against, not bucking a door. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but something made me think of the one place in the building I hadn’t been through. As the noise rang out again, I scrambled up the stairs, praying to see the top floor. It was a dismal effort in the dark, with the thumping growing louder with every short silence between. The noise came to a crescendo, with a particular *SNAP*, followed by the sound of wood splintering and falling on tile.

The moment I was on the landing, the entire stairwell shook with a *THUD*. Then another, and then another quickly. There was a ladder bolted onto the wall to my left, which I lept onto and started climbing toward the hatch above, holding on tightly as it all shook. The ragged inhale and exhale of my tired body was louder than the clang of each hoof on the metal as I pulled myself higher, toward the outside. Luck decided to throw me a carrot at the top, as the latch was spring loaded, and popped open, letting in the warm air of the night.

Throwing my forelegs through the hole, I pulled myself onto the roof. With a swift kick I shut the latch behind me. The roof around me was bare, but the moonlight shone on a large circular pad for chariot landings. Latched onto the far side of the roof was the top of the fire escape. I ran. All around me, the lights of the city gleamed, calling out to me as I threw my hooves onto the rusty metal of the fire escape.

The clanging of my running sounded the alarm of my departure down the fire escape. Each level took time away from me in running back to get to the top of the next set of stairs. Every moment not going down was a moment it caught up! The bottom was so close...oh thank the sun, the ladder! I bit down on side of the ladder, and pulled. The yank only jarred my teeth as the ladder stayed right where it was. It was rusted to the wall! The noise of the roof trapdoor springing open came from above, and the thumping steps on the roof followed.

That concrete was three lengths below, surely enough to split the fragile stitching on my stomach open. One more desperate tug on the ladder served to prove that it wasn’t going anywhere, and I would have to jump. The thumping grew louder, and I took a deep breath. Just one little jump.

I fell.

The last thing I remember was the wind in my mane. It felt warm, and slower than I would’ve expected. I didn’t know what to grasp onto at the moment, nothing seemed to be substantial enough to really take away from the experience. I knew this fall would likely kill me, but right now? Right now that was alright. At least I knew.

Author's Note

My first shot at writing horror. I stayed up twenty-four hours before writing it, so I'd be somewhat out of my mind.

Entry Two: Timberline

“You can’t ever let your guard down out there. Those forests, those yonder mountains? They don’t like you or me. Ponyfolk aint meant to be there, ‘tis not natural.” The red stallion slammed his mug down on the counter and looked me right in the eye. “You’re not going to go, laddy. Nothing good can come of it.”

I shook my head. “I guess that’s not exactly what I meant when I said I wanted to know about Edges Pass.”

“Nothin’ more ya need to know.”

This wasn’t going anywhere and I knew it. “Well thanks for your help anyways. Bartender! Another stout!” I slid the tired looking barcolt a few extra bits. He was far to be young to working behind that counter, but there was nopony in this backwood town who would give a damn, and I supposed it wasn’t my place to care either. So long as I could get him to talk a little bit.

“Sure!” He bit down on the barrel tap and filled my mug back up. Not that I needed more ale to wash down my dinner, but it was polite to keep buying while I was here. Goodness knew they needed the coin, and he’d be far more apt to help me out if he had some more gold in his pouch.

Another twenty minutes passed, and the fellow to my left had yet to leave. Trying to appear patient was hard without any of the usual distractions. No pretty mares in the tavern, no paintings on the walls, and certainly no civilized conversation to be had. Just a senile stallion ranting about the spirits of the mountains and cold weather. I supposed if anypony couldn’t figure out it was going to be cold up there, they deserved to freeze to death.

“They’re gonna be closing up her soon, lad. You better buy yourself a room right quick and lissen close-you get back from wherever you came from with your nice shiny horseshoes and fancy jacket and tell them that these mountains aint safe to pass through right now.” He got up and left, leaving an empty mug and no tip.

I watched silently as the barcolt hurried to take the empty mug. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen, light blue with a brown mane. I wonder if they pay him anything decent? Before I could decide whether or not to ask, his high-pitched ruddy accent broke through my thoughts.

“Mister, ol’ Pine wasn’t jokin’ around. I gotta send everyone to their rooms now or send them home. It’s ten for the night and breakfast in the morn’.”

With a quick spell I levitated fifteen bits out of my coin purse and slid them over to him. He started counting the money, and his brows furrowed.

“Mister, I--”

“What’s your name, colt?”

“Morning Dew, Mister, but you already paid for your dinner. You can have these five back.” He shoved the little gold discs emblazoned with solar rays back across the worn oak, along with a key with a ‘4’ carved into it. I pushed the coins back right back, smiling.

“Well, those other five are for you, for doing such a good job getting me a warm dinner tonight. I’ve been traveling all day long, and it really hit the spot. Say...I’ve got another long day of travel tomorrow as well, and I was wondering if you could help me out here.” Taking the map from my jacket pocket, I spread it across the counter. Morning Dew’s eyes lit up in recognition. “I’m heading to Fort Midnight tomorrow, and I need to get there quickly. Matter of urgent business. I just wanted to check with you to make sure that the route I have in red is the fastest way.”

“Well yes…”

“What is it, Dew?”

“The first snow is due any day now, an’ if you’re up there when that happens, you’re a dead pony.”

Gesturing with one leg at the bag at the feet of my stool, I replied. “I’ve packed very warmly.”

“That aint all...that trail is really old, and not used very often. It’s overgrown and hard to follow.”

“I’m more than confident I will be able to manage.” Grabbing the bundle by my hooves, I slung it over my back and made to leave when Morning Dew reached out to grab the sleeve of my jacket. He began to whisper furiously.

“Look mister, that trail takes you through them ghost towns. It don’t matter if you’re on business for Celestia herself, you don’t want to be there. Ponies don’t come back from those paths.”

I ruffled his mane with a hoof and chuckled. “Hey, thanks Dew. Say, can you wake me up early tomorrow?”

“Well, as soon as I’m up, which is darn early. But mister, please don’t go that way!”

Whistling to myself, I trotted toward the hall, looking for room four. Stupid superstitious peasants. Those bits could have been more beer when I got there. The room opened to just enough space to set down my bags at the bedside. The blanket was thick, but the sheets underneath were fraying at the edges. Or maybe some better lodging.

Several knocks sounded on my door, followed by Dew’s whiney voice. “Mister Garnet! It’s mornin’!”

Though still dark, there was more than enough light coming in through the crack under the door for me to get up without making a mess of myself. Good thing too, as there was nothing to clean up with. No tub, no sink, no vanity, but I really shouldn’t have been expecting those kinds of amenities in a place like this. If there were a mirror, I’d have been able to see namesake looking back at me. Gem red eyes, made more pronounced by a white coat. I’d had to dye my mane brown a long time ago; ponies tend to be misunderstanding about albinism.

Back at the counter, I was greeted with the smell of eggs and toast. That was exactly what Morning Dew stuck in front of me, along with a tankard of what tasted like very watered down ale. It must have been what he had for breakfast every morning, because the fellow didn’t even look apologetic while putting such filth in front of me. No point in insulting it though, I’d probably have to stay here again on the way back, and I’d give my thoughts to the innkeeper then.

By the time I’d finished, the sun was just coming up. I’m pretty sure I was the only ‘patron’ around, odd for a town sitting along a trade route. No matter though. Concerns for others were not advancing the concerns of my employer. Neglecting to give Dew a farewell, I made for the door.

Edges Pass. Edges Town. Not very creative, but I didn’t expect much better. The town itself was a few dozen log cabins nestled into the foothills; homesteads clutching the rocks like impoverished foals clinging to scraps of bread. Sheep dotted the few level patches of open grass that could be found, faces down in the dirt. Following the crude dirt trail dubbed as ‘Mane Street’, I soon found myself climbing a series of switchbacks headed up the ridge.

The cold-hardened dirt beneath my hooves made for firm footing and good progress. Despite the morning chill, I was warm and sweating just a bit under my overlarge saddlebags. I’d be needing every bit of those contents though-warm winter boots, a heavy coat, a canteen, and a bag of dried fruit. It should be more than enough to hold me over to the other side even if I were to be lost for a day, but that delay would be insufferable. Mr. Signet’s words still echoed in my mind, and I could still feel the touch of his fetlock as he took me to his office.

Look Garnet, you’re probably going to think this is beneath you, but Cuff Links, an old friend of mine is visiting Fort Midnight within a week. Just got the letter this morning. I would make every effort to go visit him, but my old bones just aren’t what they used to be, and we both know I have that negotiation with Prince Stalwart over the acreage to the north of the Everfree. I can’t pass that up, it’s our biggest opportunity as a company yet. He says he has a very big break for us, but it needs to be negotiated in person. This job is one I wouldn’t trust to any other...and if you complete it for me, I’ll make you my vice president here.

As wonderful as the ghosts of the past were, they weren’t helping me get to the future. Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, I took the last few paces to the top of the ridge, where the rocky top prevented the pines from growing to block the view. Just above the vast golden-brown plains of Equestria, the sun hovered like a silent sentinel. I could only feel the faintest modicum of warmth upon my coat, but it was still comforting to know it was there nonetheless. Lovely as it was, that view was also about to become my past.

Turning my back on the dawn, I looked out to the wilderness on the other side. Three nameless mountains capped with snow towered over vast forests and lakes below. As far as the horizons stretched north and south, smaller peaks covered in green reached for the sky. The trail in front of me went down into the forest, and while I couldn’t follow its path through the trees past a short ways in front of my muzzle, the map left me with a bigger picture. I’d follow the trail down to the valley floor, and eventually in a broad half-circle around the base of the central of the three mountains, climb a saddle between them, across one more valley, up a second saddle, then I could descend to Fort Midnight on other side. It was one very hard day’s travel, but the day was new and I was well rested-and dwelling on it wouldn’t make it go any faster. The clacking of my hooves on the path was all the goodbye I needed to give.

By the time the base of the mountain became evident by a slight rise in the land, the morning had almost given itself over to noon. So immersed I had become by the constant rhythm of stride upon stride that I did not notice my own hunger until my stomach grumbled at me. The noise was the only thing that seemed to sound; so loud in its solitude, so small in the empty vastness of the mountain air.

Time to make these bags lighter. Finding the closest log to the trail, I sat down and levitated out my supplies. After a swig to wet my palate, I fell upon a mix of dried apples, bananas, and peaches. The cloth bag of fruit was small enough to fit on two hooves, but by the time I was full I’d barely eaten a fifth of its contents. Suppressing a shiver, I put it back into my saddlebags. The faintest of breezes stirred the air, and it was more than enough to steal the traces of heat the sun let fall upon me.

According to the map I might have been a third of the way through, presuming the first clearing was close. Now shivering, I put the map away and started down the remains of the trail. Over the past few hours it had gone from a well-worn path two lengths wide to a simple trail through the pine needle litter. Thankfully, it had still been visible the whole way through-getting lost in the forest would have made for very poor time.

Up ahead, the trail took a gentle turn, and the trees began to thin out. As the clearing became evident, I could clearly see the expanse of the slopes to my right, the mountain towering into the sky. The vegetation flanking me was not grass, but rather some kind of weed hardy enough to stay green into the late autumn. As the trees passed behind me, my breath began to appear as a mist, and the chill became brisk. Almost enough to merit putting on the coat, but not quite yet.

At the top of the next ridge I could see most of the valley beyond. What immediately drew my gaze was the small cluster of dark brown structures in a loose ring around the trail. So this must be what they were talking about. When I drew close, I could more easily make out the small details of the derelict settlement.

The buildings were in shambles; not even all the walls remained standing. The wood that had not yet been eaten away was dark and stained by Celestia knew how many years of rain. Stones lay in piles, suggesting that they had at one point stood on top of another. Two of the cabins remained completely standing, save for their rooves. Their doors were still in place, and they boasted multiple rooms-all decaying to the elements. Standing in the middle of the ghost town, the silence was deafening. What had happened to those ponies who once lived here? Did they leave? Leaving behind their land and hard-built homes? Or did they die?

A sudden creaking caused me to jump and gasp. Turning swiftly to face the source of the noise, it took me several deep breaths to calm down enough to realize it was just one of the old doors, nudged a bit open by the breeze. What if it could have been--no. This town is empty, and you have places to be. Still, I really didn’t feel like I wanted to be here any longer, and kept trying to convince myself that it was just because I needed to keep up my pace.

Atop the next rise, I successfully convinced myself of exactly that, or rather, the sky above did. Blowing in with the wind that chilled my hide beneath my hair was a fleet of dark gray clouds, soon merging together to become a solid blanket of winter. The last useful thing to do would be to panic, but it was the worst of signs I could have seen. I still had half a day at best to travel, and the cold could be uncomfortable, or perhaps hazardous. Worse still, if the snow fell too deeply, the trail could be buried, and it might take me much longer to get to the other side. Determination became mixed with necessity and panic, driving me to pick up my pace, trotting headlong into the chill wind.

The first flakes fell as I hurried down the far side of the saddle. My ears had gone numb by the top of the long climb, and with every hoof-fall, my legs burned to remind me of the steepness of the trail. Despite the punishing pace, I was still growing colder, and was left with no choice but to put on my boots and coat. No matter, I brought these for a reason. It also gave me a chance to eat and drink a little more; it would be much more difficult to do so as the temperature dropped further.

By the time I finished my descent to the valley floor, the wind had picked up enough to blow the snow into my face. It didn’t feel too cold, after all, my coat was thick and the hood was very warm, but it made seeing very difficult. Not that it mattered too much though-after the snow really started to fall, I couldn’t see much further than a few dozen lengths in any direction. Noting the direction I was supposed to head would be the important part anyways. Trail or no trail, if I kept walking west I couldn’t fail to find the next saddle, so long as I didn’t start wandering in circles.

Afternoon gave way to evening, and as the light faded from the sky, so the warmth faded from my bones. Despair, panic, and fear would not help me right now, but did they ever desire to take ahold of me. The hour had long passed at which I’d expected to be sitting in a warm room in Fort Midnight, sharing a bottle of brandy with Cuff Links over pleasantries, and here I was still hoping I was going in the right direction. The storm had yet to let up, and the wind kept howling through my mane. I’d often wondered what it was like to face peril when I was a colt, and now I realized that as a stallion, I’d much rather be back at my office with a boring pile of papers to sign than facing the elements. Wisdom always had a habit of coming at a steep price.

The thumping of sompony galloping through the snow cut through the endless hush of snowfall, and I stopped to look about. To my front, a figure materialized in the dark, a bit shorter than myself, and wearing a tattered cloak. Her voice was quiet, barely loud enough to make out, but it held everything I could have wanted to hear.

“What are you doing out here? You’re going to die in this cold! My village is not far, and my family has space for you to stay the night. Come, follow me.”

I stood gaping for a second as she turned around, and soon hurried to follow as fast as my numbed legs would carry me. The journey was only a matter of minutes, but I didn’t want to lose my mysterious benefactor in the haze of snow. Lights appeared in the distance, and soon grew to be a small village, smoke rising faintly from the chimneys of a dozen small cabins. I followed the mare to one of the larger ones, and she pushed open the door. There were so many questions I wanted to ask. Who was she, what was a settlement doing all the way out here? How did they get through storms like these? Such thoughts were so far to the front of my mind that I tripped over the last stop, and fell forward into the house.

“Mother, father! I found him out by the trading route. He needs help!”

I made to push myself up off the wooden floor, but I couldn’t seem to get my legs to respond. Not quite able to get up just yet, I didn’t want to seem undignified, so I settled for telling them that I was fine. Or trying. The words didn’t seem to come out right.

“You’re right. Get him some of the soup, quick! The cold’s addled his mind.”

Hooves thudded on wood, and I felt myself being pushed up into a sitting position, and a warm bowl pushed against my lips. Though I had trouble swallowing it, the broth was hot and savory, and as I could gaze upon my savior as I sipped. Blue and ice blue...and a white aura around the bowl she was holding up for me. Perhaps it was the time and place, but I couldn’t help but feel just a little longing for her. Then the soup was gone and I was being picked up and carried over to the next room, tucked into a warm bed. I tried to say the words ‘thank you’, but even that was beyond my tired mind.

I awoke curled into as tight of a ball as thick boots and a heavy coat would allow. The wind blowing over me was just too much to try and stay warm in. Wait, the wind? Sitting bolt upright, I shivered as snow fell off of my neck and back. All around, the dark brown remains of a wooden cabin poked through the snow, of which I was lying in atop the broken remains of what looked to be a bed frame. The rest of the buildings were in similar states of disrepair. I wanted to dig around and question as to what happened, but the snow and wind reminded me that it would probably have to wait for the way back, and that I was lucky to still be kicking.

Still, there wouldn’t be much point in trying if I didn’t have something to eat, and I scarfed down more of the fruit until it hurt to chew. Was that all a hallucination? I was clearly out of my mind even in it...but how did I survive the night? As I pondered, I realized the trail wouldn’t be visible under the several hooves of snow on the ground, and the whiteout was still too severe to pick out which way I needed to go. No tracks were visible from where I sat, so I mentally traced the frenzied route I took the night before, and set off in the direction I guessed would take me toward the next pass.

Having no idea the hour at which I woke, I did not know how many hours of daylight I still had to make it out of the mountains. The going was rough in the deep snow, and I had started cold. Numbness was quick to take hold of my legs and my face, and started its advance into the rest of me from there. Each minute grew on me until the hours seemed endless, and the day eternal. It was too easy to convince myself that the the circle a dozen length in diameter was the same one as I kept walking. Gray above, white below, always the same. If it were not for the occasional rocks poking through the snow and dips in the land, the illusion of constancy would have claimed me.

The previous day’s effort wore heavily on my limbs and back, the sore ache coursing through my limbs despite the cold. Exhaustion was there too, and I didn’t know if was from lack of water, lack of sleep, or overexertion. I’d long since burned out any magic I had left trying to keep myself warm, as I knew no spells for sight or guidance. The pace I was keeping slowed until I was barely walking. No Garnet, you have to keep going.

Without any magic left, I had to take off my saddlebags with my teeth. My muzzle being numb, it was slow progress working my way through them to get out the last bit of my food. Eating was still difficult, and utterly exhausting. It really felt good to be sitting still, just for a little while. I could use this break, finish what food I was able, and then get back on my way feeling better. Even the snow seemed comfortable, and oddly enough-warm. Wanting to enjoy the sensation, I let my eyes close for a moment…

“There you are! Thank goodness you’re ok!”

The same voice from the night before startled me into wakefulness. Darkness had overtaken the land once again, and while the wind had stopped, the snow was still falling silently. Stiff from being in one place for so long, I gratefully accepted her hoof up. She helped me dust of the snow, and then turned to walk away.

“Come with me.”

I hurried to follow her, but couldn’t help but desire to explain myself. “Look, I really appreciate your help from last night. What is your name?”

“Azure Lake.”

“Garnet. Pleased to meet you Miss Lake. Where exactly are we going?”

“Back to my village.” She moved quickly under the old coak.

“Oh, well, I should let you know I’m headed out of the mountains, toward Fort Midnight.”

She turned back to look at me, her brow furrowed. “Where did you say? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Fort Midnight, just on the other side of the pass.”

“If it’s there, I’ve never heard of it.” The lights of her village shone against the snow in the distance. Odd...I thought I covered a lot more ground than this. And wait, why are the buildings all there again!? “Either way, you should stay here until it’s safe to travel again.”

“Please do not mistake my intention, but I need to hurry. I’m expected at my destination.”

Azure Lake did not turn around as we entered the circle of light. “You won’t be able to make that journey now. So stay here with us. It may be always night here, but we have plenty of food and room for you stay. After all, it’s been a long time since a new stallion came into town.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m on a business trip. I thank you deeply for saving me this past night, but I must be on my way.”

At my words, she turned around, and my gaze met hers. Her eyes held a deep sorrow as she looked upon me. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean?!”

“This is now your home. Now do come in, it’s cold out here.”

Author's Note

This is drawn half from walking through a ghost town in the San Juan mountains when I was a child, and half a brush with hypothermia I had a few weeks back. Oh, and somewhat inspired by Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' (1800's ish setting, and if you've read the first chapter, you can see what I borrowed).

A great deal of thanks to my friend Mason for editing this on a very short turnaround. He's always very insightful when it comes to my shortcomings.

Entry Three: Pacta Sunt Servada

A true resident of Equestria could always tell when midnight had arrived, should she be awake at such an hour. It was something they all learned, that their benevolent ruler of the night, Princess Luna, would allow her orb of brilliant silver to remain dead overhead, such that one would have to crane her neck all the way back to gaze upon it. Just as sure were the signs of the seasons and the age of the year as foretold by the waxing and waning of the celestial body. None of that though, would be of any help tonight.

Barring drought, Luna forbade the use of clouds to block the view of the night she labored to create for her subjects. Those subjects, however, did not care to dwell within the shadow of the Everfree Forest, and so those skies were left untended. As a lone traveler paused to gaze up through the sparsely leaved canopy of branches, only a hazy void of darkness stared back. The rest of those leaves crunched underhoof, or were caught up in the draft from her cloak as she hurried along.

Every minute spent within the confines of the trees was another minute that the safety of civilization lay further behind, and she had passed within hours before. More than once along the way had growls echoed from the bushes and eyes reflecting the dim light of her lantern stared from the darkness. All too often the wind howled through the trees, whipping the leaves and smacking the branches. Those were the moments in which she knelt down and wrapped her tattered cloak around the glass of the lantern, praying fervently that the wind would not take the light away. Clouds above gave threat of rain, but it had not yet been realized. All they had done was take away the stars and the moon, and that was more than enough.

No trail existed to where she was going, only the faintest flicker of a pull, an iota of desire urging her to walk deeper into the ancient home of the forest. It had cared not which path she had taken, dragging her through thickets and up steep hills. Only the dim circle from her lantern gave her a glimpse of where to place her hooves; the candle within burnt down to a scant stub. Even after several hours for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, the shadows beneath the trees from where those eyes glared were too deep to discern. It had made the treacherous road even harder; tripping into gullies and stumbling over fallen logs in the depths of the brush. Her lips had long since bloodied, dried, and cracked to bleed again- a constant torment in the howling wind.

Each step was labored, slow to rise and no more eager to come back down. Hardened earth gave way to dead leaves, to sticks, to boulders, to more leaves, to pine needles, to the dirt again. All of it passed under her, given no more thought than was needed to avoid stumbling and dropping the precious light. Teeth clenched around the handle, mouth cramped from the strain, she held onto her only companion in the night. Not even those animals giving the howls and screeches came closer, none of those eyes dared show what creature they belonged to. They knew.

Had those clouds gone away, the moon would have shown out in its waxing glory, a thin crescent for all the world to know that the longest day of the year had come and gone, and the night was slowly becoming longer than the day. Tonight was short, nine hours of darkness, but the fifth hour of the night had yet to pass. Reflecting on the hour allowed her mind to wander just far enough to trip again, her hindleg caught on a gnarled root reached up from the forest floor. The lantern dropped from her teeth, and she gasped as it fell. That flight ended sharply but a moment later, as the earth made to rise up again. A moment’s joy grasped her tired mind as she saw the light continue to gleam.

The wind howled once again the branches, and she started up the incline. Each step pained her, but the ache crept away with the sickly tingle of adrenaline and yearning. As she rose up the hill, so too grew the pull on her, demanding she hurry to the top. The wind blew at her back, urging her on. Staring straight down, she found purchase between the tufts of grass and atop the boulders, each step in celerity.

“Stop.” The voice sounded in front of her, deep and cold. She looked up, not realizing she’d already gotten to the stop. A chill ran through her legs, eating away the last of the compulsion. Before her, a stallion in a hooded cloak waited. “You are late.”

“I...I came as quick as I could!”

“You know the promise! You were to be here by midnight on the third year, to return what is mine.”

“Yes, but...I-”

“Where. Is. It?”

“It was stolen from me!”

“What? I did not lend you an artifact of power to hear such idle lies.”

“It’s not a lie! Please...I’ll do whatever it takes to repay you.”

“Yes.” He walked closer. “Yes you will.”

She backpedaled, only to stumble over a rock, and become entangled in her cloak. The lantern fell again, this time with a crash of glass. As the darkness washed over her, he drew a small blade and a tome from within his cloak. The cut was so quick, and the blade so sharp she barely felt the pain, but the warmth of the flow of blood from her fetlock was there. Swiftly, he caught a single drop on the open pages.

“Our debt is settled.” He turned, and began to walk away.

“No! You can’t do this to me!”

“Oh, I haven’t done anything to you-yet. I only lent you an amulet of power beyond your dreams, which you lost. I only recouped the debt which you knew you would owe. And I only kept the wild beasts from hurting you so that we could be at peace with one another. Now, my patience wears thin, and I will no longer trouble myself to do so.”

As she stretched out her bleeding foreleg, pleading for mercy, he vanished into the darkness. Around the hilltop, the howling began again, drawing closer to where she lay.