The darkness of sleep immediately lit. Axen awoke from his slumber, blinded by the incoming light. It was too much, in too little time, and his eyes had not yet adjusted. He shook his head, his eyes starting to become comfortable with the morning light. He started to slowly pull the covers from his body, but he noticed something. His alarm clock said the time was 2 o’clock in the morning. The sun had gone down no more than six hours ago, and wouldn’t be up for another six. Something was wrong. He noticed it now. The lights, even if the sun’s natural rays, were too bright to be simple daylight. He slowly inched out of bed, but this time, toward the window. He slid from his bed, immediately to the floor. He crept across the cold, hard wood toward the door.
He reached a safe spot away from the window, where his shadow could not be spotted in the blazing light, and lifted himself to his feet. He softly stepped closer to the bedroom door. That’s when he heard it. Faint whispering, and the creaking of floorboards. What’s the point of being quiet when they’re blasting a light in my eyes, not very stealthy, He thought. His eyes trailed from the door to the lighted window. The blazing majesty of the light could only be coming from some sort of high powered light, it would need to be large, and would have to be transported by vehicle. If these people meant him harm, that was his escape. His mind suddenly snapped into place, after so much groggy thought from just waking up.
His goal in this home was to be vigilant. He wasn’t welcome there, and the girl who lived there hadn’t noticed him slip in through the door behind her. A small girl, with Purple hair and orange wing feathers lived there, all alone. Her family had been killed in some sort of accident, and she was defenseless in the large home. The basement contained a sort of guest bedroom, where an extra bed was stored. Though she lived in a large house, it was known quite well that she was alone in it. She had lived in it with her family before their accident, and now lived in it alone. The actual house itself she was not to inherit until she was of age, but no one had questioned it, out of sympathy for the poor girl. Axen slowly creaked open the door, making sure not to be spotted by anyone who may be there. He had to worry about the girl’s safety more than his own.
He heard the whispers again, but this time could make out the tone of the voices, and what they were saying. One voice, high pitched and squeaky said, “I wonder if its a monster! I’ll bet there’s a monster in your basement Scootaloo!” another voice, quite deeper than the other said, “There’s no such thing as monsters, Sweetie Belle, you should know that.” the girls continued to bicker, most of it unintelligible ranting about how things like a Hydra or Manticore “technically” weren’t monsters because they are real. It seemed to the deeper voiced one, the one that through eavesdropping, he had come to know as Scootaloo, exempted anything of reality from monsterhood. A sweeter, southern accented voice butted into the argument. “Would ya’ll stop it, Scootaloo, ya said ya heard SNORIN’, right? Well, monsters don’t snore.” He had forgotten his snoring, and the fact that vigilance didn’t really call for sleep. He hadn’t meant too, he had just layed down and pulled the covers over himself... okay, so maybe he meant to sleep, maybe he didn’t, but he needed to find some way to work on his snoring, he was sure it would one day give him away.
After a few moments of awkward silence, he heard Scootaloo say “ Yeah, of course they don’t snore, they don’t exist!” More bickering. This time the one to take the spotlight amongst the almost random venom spraying was Sweetie Belle. “You woke me up so I could see a monster, and I wanna see a monster!” The all stopped. By then, Axen was putting on his “equipment”, and now just waiting for them to come downstairs so he could move upstairs.
He slid on the protective padding, and put on his long sleeve Kevlar stitched shirt over it. He pulled on his hooded leather jacket, and zipped it up, pulling on his face mask. He heard their little feet trying to silently descend staircase. Of course, they were failing, but they had no real intention of being professionally stealthy. They reached the end of the staircase, and stopped. He was sitting in the corner, surrounded by shadows. They stopped, Scootaloo squinted and said, “What’s that weird light?” None of the basement lights worked, he knew, he had tried to turn them on.
This, however, posed a new question. Where was the light coming from. If the girls didn’t know about it, what was it? Then he realized that the way the light came in, it could have been two smaller lights. Headlights? He thought, looking for other explanations in the vast cleverness of his mind. He crept past the girls as the moved in front of him, near the door to the guest bedroom. He ascended the stairs, letting out a humph of superiority as he successfully snuck past them. Now to see about the light. He edged towards a window, cautiously. With all these lights in the house on, he would be an easy target for anyone looking through the windows. He poked his head around the curtain just enough to see what was making the light. It was, in fact, headlights. A pickup tuck to be exact, dark blue, with a bit of rust and chipped paint. It looked old, but reliable. Two figures stood in front of the truck, both female, both looking extremely tired and agitated.
They were both very beautiful, especially in the moonlight, and he recognized them both. He did not know them directly, but they were both quite popular amongst the small community they were a part of. One, the owner of the boutique in town, was Rarity. She was one of the most beautiful women in town, and had a knack for making special clothing. He had wanted to see her about a design for a new costume he had been thinking of, but didn’t have the right words to ask her. Who asks for carbon fiber combat armor from a boutique lady? The other, he had conversed with once or twice around Cider season, her family did own sweet apple acres, after all. He had commented on her eyes one year, and she had thanked him, blushing. Applejack. He knew the name well.
The girls came back upstairs, disappointed. Axen moved closer to the darker corner of the room, to avoid detection. The window being on a higher up balcony, he was still out of eyesight from the girls regardless, but he moved back in precaution regardless. They noticed the truck outside, with the two women in front, and groaned. The two girls, one being Sweetie Belle, and the other who’s name he did not know yet, walked outside to the truck. They were given a few stern looks from the women, seeing as they had probably scared them by running off so late, they certainly deserved it. After a small talk, they entered the truck, and it rode on down the path to the main road. Scootaloo sighed, and started to walk back to her room, still looking around a little cautiously. He walked forward, and went down the flight of stairs, not caring about the noise he made. Scootaloo stopped, and tilted her head just a tad, deciding whether or not to turn around, afraid of what she might see. She did, in due time, turn around, and her eyes widened with fear when she saw him. He stepped closer to her, looked her straight in the eyes and said, “You should be in bed, young lady.”
Author's Note
Please point out any errors, and leave feedback on what you think, too! This is my first story, and I don't expect it to be popular, so just give me any pointers you can!
