Clockwork (Ponified)

by Golden Quill

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 1101

Another day, another death. At least, that's how Johnathan's co-workers put it. The police force in Baltimare was not for the weak of heart, as murder was a near daily crime... (My first story. I hope you all enjoy it!)

This is a minor change from my otherwise entirely human-based horror story. I thought I might get around to modifying it and ponifying it so everyone could enjoy. So, everyone, have a great time reading this! Constructive criticism is encouraged by, well, me.

Enjoy! ~Golden

(Also, the link to the original, unmodified version of the story. Yay! https://docs.google.com/document/d/18XHYzrLRYh-qfriatzBrBSU9hCcAwNuK_6CaO7snX78/edit?usp=sharing )

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-28 18:10:05 UTC

Clockwork

“Detective Jonathan,” Growled out the voice of the chief detective on the police force, “In my office, now!” Jonathan, a young stallion who was rather devoted to his job, scurried from his small desk and rushed into the office of the chief. Jonathan was a new one on the force, having completed only a few murder cases and busting an odd drug deal here and there. This caught the attention of the higher ranks, earning him a promotion and an office near his superior’s.

                “Yes sir?” The young man poked his head into the doorway of his higher officer, his body soon following suit until he was entirely in the room. “What is it you need?”

                “It’s another murder case. We need you out on the corner of Nineteenth and Snipes. The coroner will give you the details when you arrive.”

                In a matter of minutes, Jonathan found himself only feet from his destination, a large clock tower looming before him. He made his way to the interior, where the coroner was busy investigating the scene of the crime. “Um, excuse me?” Jonathan approached the elder stallion, tapping him lightly on his forehoof. “Are you the coroner?”

                The man lifted his head to glance up at the newcomer, nodding slightly. “And you must be detective Jonathan Collins, I presume?” At this, Jonathan gave a curt nod of confirmation, “And you’re here about the case then?”

“Yes sir. What seems to have been the cause of death of...” He glanced down at the corpse, noting that it was female. “Her?”

                “It seems that she was internally bleeding, and eventually died as her organs flooded. What caused said bleeding is still unknown, but some minor lacerations were found on her cheeks and neck, but neither of these seemed to be catalysts to the cause of death.”

         Another nod from the detective and the coroner stood up, turning fully to his company. “An ambulance will come along in a few minutes to take her body to the morgue. Spend that time trying to identify anything I’ve missed.” Sliding his wide brimmed hat onto his head, he took his leave.

Jonathan stood in silence, staring dead-eyed at the body. Sure, death was a thing that he should have been used to as a homicide detective, but this one felt very… odd. He felt that something was very wrong about this one. It was similar to a few others he had looked into, with each death caused by unidentified internal bleeding.

He stooped down and opened the victim’s mouth, moving her tongue until he found exactly what he was looking for. Five black lines seemingly burnt onto the underside of her tongue. He recognized the markings, for he had six lines of his own. He never understood why they were there, or what they were for, but now he knew something was wrong. This killer had a motive towards him and the others.

His breath was shaky as he closed the mare’s mouth, slowly standing on weakened legs. “What is this all about? Who the hell is this guy?” A wary glance over his shoulder showed nothing, aside from the fact that he was a bit jumpy now.

“Why would somebody do something like this? And why do I have the same marks?” He lowered himself onto a bench nearby, his heart thumping hastily in his chest. The paramedics soon trotted in, causing Jonathan to jump a slight bit.

“We’re here to collect the body,” Said the first paramedic, “If you are done with your examination of the scene.” Jonathan gave no response aside from a slight wave of acknowledgement. He was still mighty terrified at the fact that something might be out to get him.

The two paramedics soon hoisted the corpse onto a gurney, lifting it to waist height and leaving the man alone in the old building. ‘What if he’s still here? The murderer?’ A creak on the floorboards above only added to his suspicions, to which he stood and faced the stairwell. Gingerly stepping all the closer to the stairs, he felt a chill run down his spine, stopping short at the base of his tail.

“Hello? Is anybody here?” He got no response, aside from the echoing of his own words. “If somebody is up here, come out with your hands up.” Another moment of silence gave him the courage to take a few steps higher; his eyes now level with the floor above. He took note of the dust on the floor, and the hoof prints of other ponies in it, presumably the other officers.

He soon took another step up, the hairs lower on his neck now standing on end. His heart was thumping now, yet he had no idea why. Taking yet another step up, he noticed the shadow of what appeared to be a stallion on the wall across from him. Taking quiet steps, he slowly approached the small wooden pillar near the corner of the room. With a movement as quick as lightning, he turned the corner to find himself still alone.

Another creaking far above drew his attention to the long, steep flight of stairs ahead of him. This particular set of stairs led straight to the inner mechanisms of the clock, straight to the almost comically oversized gears and levers. He lugged himself up these stairs slowly, his legs soon becoming weary from the effort of the steep climb.

Jonathan reached the top, glancing around at the inner workings of the clock. He could see almost nothing in the dim light coming from the dust coated windows, and so decided to turn his flashlight on, and this was his final action before he felt a light drip of water fall onto his neck.

The shrill scream was largely unheard by the other officers below, for the distance between the top of the tower and the ground was too great for almost any bellow to travel upon. Not two hours later, though, poor detective Jonathan was looked upon by the very coroner who had shown him the mare’s body.

 “And so the cycle ends, my friend…”  The old stallion’s face was worn and tired, his body missing nearly all the strength it held in their previous encounter, “He will be pleased that the fallen angels have finally been dealt with.” The man look down at his graying hooves, watching the dark colour travel up his forelegs and to his neck. “Lucifer would be proud…”