The door slams violently behind you as you make your way into the empty room. In most situations, you like to think of yourself as a people-person. You may not have the most blossoming social life, but you definitely enjoy the company of others, and like to think that you love and tolerate all people. However, there is one flaw in humanity that seems to feel the need to make itself more and more apparent to you every day: there are some stupid people out there. Incredibly, unbearably stupid. There are times when you have to genuinely make a mental effort just to comprehend how unbelievably stupid some people can be. You may not know much, but you sure as hell know that when someone can make you look like Einstein, something’s wrong.

Making your way to the center of the room, you take a violent swing at your abused punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It doesn’t take much to piss you off, and with a long history of anger management issues, you’ve constantly needed an outlet to channel your rage. Martial arts is now your only true solace and has been for years. It’s the only art that requires nothing but instinct and reflexes to act, you can shut off your brain and for once feel at home in your body, now the perfect customized weapon. You feel your infernal anger burn itself out with every kick, jab, and thrust, every breath you take burning your adrenaline-fueled chest as your knuckles collide with the firm surface, sending stinging vibrations throughout your arms.

It’s when you begin to admire the human body and its muscles’ refined grace and beauty that you slip on your own shoe and kiss the rough surface of your punching bag with your whole face before landing back on the ground. You just sit there, your sore hands on your sore face and groan. Today just doesn’t like you.

“Fuck this,” you say, getting up on your feet. Still gritting your teeth, you walk out of your “dojo” (as you like to call it) and into the small living room of your apartment. It isn’t much, but living in a big city, it’s the only place you have to get away from people who’s sole purpose seems to be to piss you off. You inhale sharply through your nose and loudly release the air through your mouth as you rub your head.

“No,” you say defiantly to no one in particular. “I’m not going to let some stupid customers ruin my Friday. I’m just going to make the biggest sandwich I’ve ever made, sit on my couch and watch whatever’s on T.V. Yeah.” You force a smile and make your way to the kitchen, which is separated from your living room by just a four-foot wall running from the apartment window and stopping about midway across the floor. This is going to be one amazing sandwich. Before you begin your masterpiece, you find the T.V. remote on your stove (which isn’t unusual with organization skills like yours) and press the power button and turn back to the counter.

Suddenly a knock on your door sounds out. You squint your eyes. You are so unbelievably not in the mood for company right now, but the knocking continues, this time followed by a familiar voice.

“I know you’re in here, Caleb,” it says. “Don’t make me get the shotgun.”

You roll your eyes. “Go away,” you shout back. “And don’t say that kind of shit, people will take you seriously.”

Without warning, you hear the door open, and in walks your friend Isaiah, grinning like an idiot. He’s a bit taller than you, with beige, shoulder length hair and pale blue eyes. You’ve known him since middle school, but he hasn’t changed much since then. “What makes you think I was kidding?” Isaiah says threateningly. “And by the way, your door’s unlocked.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want?”

“What? I can’t come to see my friend just to hang out?”

“Correct. And don’t ever say ‘hang out’ again.” You retort with disgust.

Isaiah snickers. “God, someone’s in a mood. I take it you didn’t have a lot of fun working for tech support today?”

“Fuck you.”

Isaiah puts his hands up defensively. “Hey, I told you not to apply for that job.”

You squint your eyes. “You’re the one who suggested it to me!”

Your friend look up in realization. “Oh right. Hey, what are you watching?” Isaiah gestures to the T.V.

Without turning your head back to look as you make your sandwich, you say, “You tell me. Haven’t looked at the screen yet.”

You hear Isaiah laugh. “Some kid’s cartoon. You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?” When you don’t respond to his joke, he seems to recall why he came to your apartment in the first place. Finally. “Oh hey, so uh, I’ve got a gig down at the club on Evan’s. You wanna tag along? Grab a drink? Listen to my amazing mix?”

The mere thought of that heavy pounding music causes you to wince. “Not tonight,” you say, rubbing your temple. “I just wanna eat a sandwich and watch some T.V. Alone.”

Isaiah, retreating from your fridge with a beer in his hand, groans dramatically. “Dude, you need to get out more! Drink, meet a chick, have sex with a chick, drink some more. Please man, you’re starting to depress me with all this ‘alone time’ crap.”

“I said not tonight, okay?” You snap. “I really just do not want to interact with anyone else for the next twelve hours! Could you please leave me alone for that long?”

Isaiah sighs, takes a swig of his drink, and sets it on the counter. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you your alone time. But just tonight, ya got me? Tomorrow you and I are going downtown and actually doing stuff. Stuff that involves alcohol, women, and loud music. And you are going to love it.”

You roll your eyes. “If I was still in high school.”

Isaiah points at you accusingly. “Hey, you’re in college. You’re not too mature for shit.”

You wave your hand dismissively at him. “Get out of my apartment, Isaiah.”

“Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” Your friend says in a mock-defensive voice. “And dude, change the channel. I mean, unless you want to watch My Little Pony.” Isaiah laughs.

“Stop calling me ‘dude’.” Is all you say as he walks out the door. As soon as you hear the click of the latch locking in place, you let out a huge sigh. You guess people stress you out more than you thought, even your friends. No matter. You’re not gonna let anything ruin this evening. Your masterful sandwich completed, you grab the remote and make your way to the living room. For a moment, you just stare at the screen, curious as to what’s on. You assume that the brightly-colored quadrupedal creature being displayed is a pony, since Isaiah told you what show it was, though it’s not anything like the characters in the show you used to know about. This pony’s snout is at least twenty sizes smaller, which is made up for in its dinner-plate sized eyes.

Your observation is interrupted by a large surge of thunder followed by the sound of torrential rain. Thanking your bad mood for preventing you from going downtown with Isaiah, you return your gaze to the T.V. and sit down on your couch, taking a big bite out of your sandwich. Before you can change the channel however, you notice a white flickering light coming from the power outlet behind your T.V.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You whisper to yourself as you rush forward to examine the plug, from which violent blue sparks of electricity are faintly flickering. Another clash of thunder from outside shakes the building, eerily mixing with the feminine laughter of ponies coming from the stereo. Without thinking, you place your hands on the T.V. plug, attempting to yank it out. Needless to say, this is an idiotic decision, considering how close to the wall you place your hand. A hundred spikes of pain immediately seize every fiber of your being, your heart stops and you hear a howl of agony escape your contorted mouth. The last thing you hear is that wretched sound of laughter mixed with booming thunder.

~~~

A ghostly pool of pale gray vapor escapes a predator’s lips as she stands atop the cold hard surface of a boulder. Knowing she shouldn’t be here, the rapid pace of her heartbeat causes her pointy ears to throb. The vertical pupils of her bone-chillingly blue eyes dilate in the moonlight, causing pools of silver to dance within them as they pursue their target.

“That’s right, you three,” she whispers cunningly to herself as she watches her prey. “Step right on into Satin’s silk web.”

Not being able to control the adrenaline within her much longer, Satin extends her leathery wings full length, revealing the bony structure underneath them. She takes a slow step forward with a dark indigo hoof, sliding her tongue along the top row of her razor-sharp teeth. Just a few more steps. Just a few more steps, and those three bat-pony intruders will be in her own bat-hooves. She can taste the glory now. Her parents, her friends, her whole clan thanking her and giving her respect. Oh she can taste it now. Just a few more steps…

FLASH!

~~~

You don’t open your eyes yet. You know you can, but you somehow know you’ll regret it. Instead, you reach around the floor with a hand to make sure you’re in a familiar place, and come to the conclusion that unless you or someone else had recently put down a thick layer of soil on your bed, you’re not in your apartment. Deciding you’re dreaming, you’re about to roll over on your side, when you hear a whisper. It’s distant and blurry at first, but you can still make it out. It sounds like a man’s voice.

“Wh-what is it?” it stammers. Not a moment sooner does another voice, this one steadier and gruffer, respond.

“Clearly dead. We can’t afford distractions, let’s go around it and continue the mi--”

You cough, startling the voices.

“It’s not dead!” This third voice is a new one.

“We don’t know what that thing is, let’s get out of here!”

“No!” The gruff voice returns. “Kill it! Kill it now!” A moment of silence before the same voice irritably continues. “Oh for Luna’s sake!” With a snarl, it rapidly rushes towards you. Your eyes snap open and you blindly thrust your arm forward, breathing heavily. You’ve been craving to hit another living thing for a long time now, but this sure as hell is not what you had in mind. Your eyes widen in both fear and confusion as the receiving end of your fist comes into view. It’s a quadruped with large stubby hooves, but it’s muzzle is too short and it’s eyes are too big for it to be a horse. This, however is not the most distinctive or rather repulsive feature of the demonic entity. From its front shoulders two large and bony bat-like wings branch out like the limbs of some barren tree.

The creature releases a hoof from its sore muzzle, from which two fangs protrude. It laughs menacingly at you. “Clever little demon, aren’t you?” It says in that gruff voice from before. “I’ll have you know I’m a master of playing dead. Why don’t you come a little closer, let me give you a few pointers.” Seeing the mutated beast before you was enough, but seeing it talk helps drive you a little closer to the edge of insanity. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the pace it’s going at and you experience that all-too-familiar sensation of your common sense slipping away, and your body doing its own thing.

You hear an enraged bellow escaping your chest as your hand clutches something rough and heavy by your side. Without hesitation or thought, you swing your arm around, releasing the projectile. With a resounding thunk and a pathetic flop, your attacker falls into the dirt. You glance up at the other two creatures panting heavily and sweating like a maniac. Their eyes widen and they flee, leaving you alone in the clearing. Danger gone, you fall to your hands and knees. This isn’t happening. Can’t be happening. Your thoughts are a mess, a scrambled version of the already nonsensical events that just transpired. Nothing connects to where you were only minutes ago.

“Today just doesn’t like me, does it?” You jump, startled by yet another voice, this time coming from where you woke up. You turn around and to your horror, another one of those demons. This one is smaller and less muscular, it’s coat a dark purple rather than grey and its eyes baby blue. From its tiny snout, only one fang is visible, on the left side. Its wings are extended, and it’s muzzle is somehow twisted into a frown.

You frantically sit back and scramble backwards, as far away from the winged creature as you can. “Get the hell away from me.” You say in a trembling voice laced with both terror and rage.

The feminine creature just huffs and sits down in an irritated manner, which only confuses you more. You almost wish the thing would just attack you. She puts her face in her two front hooves and shakes her head. “I really just don’t bucking get it.” She whines, ignoring you. “How many ways can the universe possibly insult me? Really. I had the perfect opportunity. No one saw me leave my den, it was just three pathetic lackeys, and they were right in my clutches. But, nope!” The creature laughs sarcastically with an edge of hysteria and points at you. “The celestial bodies just had to align and send some lunatic alien… demon… thing in my path and take out my enemies for me! Bucking fantastic, really, that was spectacular, thank you, Luna, for your bucking contribution to my night. Really helped a lot!” She kicks a small rock with a childish grunt.

You’ve lost it. Officially nothing can make any less sense than what has become of your life in the past twenty minutes. Deciding that this animal is just as wary of you as you are of her, you speak up, hoping this time it will listen to you. “Send me home.” Is all you can manage.

The bat-horse looks at you in astonishment as if you had just insulted it. “Wha- Ho- Who the buck do you think you are? You come out of bucking nowhere, ruin my whole night, tell me to back off, and now you’re sitting there expecting me to give a flying buck? No, find your own way back to Tartarus, two-legged freak, or die out here in the woods! And while you’re at it, stay out of ponies’ business!”

Before you can respond, the pony looks down at the unconscious body and then back up to you and smiles as if an idea just struck her. “Or, better yet, follow me to my colony.”

You’re not sure you like the sound of seeing more of her kind, and you vigorously shake your head. The bat-pony rushes towards you, a scowl on her face. “That wasn’t a question, two-legs. This is what you get for bucking everything up. Now, you and this napping nopony over here are coming with me as prisoners and will be dealt with by my colony, and I will finally be able to prove myself as a worthy bat-pony while you’re scraping up the foal-pups’ guano room. You said you wanted me to take you home?” She laughs almost sinisterly. “Well, welcome home.”

Author's Note

Thanks for reading, and don't be afraid to tell me how to make it better!