The Corner of (Our) Eyes

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12 (End)
Chapter 1

Prologue

Prologue

Few things are more terrifying than the unknown. It’s an old cliche’, yes. One that’s been beaten to death. But what you don’t hear very often are what exactly those few things are. Well, I can’t tell you all of them, sadly, but I do know of a couple.

The first that comes to mind is the fear of the partially known. Those little half-truths or pieces of an image that only give you a glimpse into what the true, horrible entirety is. The things that let you fill in the blanks all by yourself. And let me tell you: your imagination is not your friend. It will do things to you. Lie to you. Or, if it feels especially cruel, it will do its best at guessing the real face of the thing

(if it has a face oh god where is its face)

and that’s always, somehow, worse. Just knowing a little bit about a thing can be much worse than knowing nothing. Because when you know nothing, you fill in the blanks all by yourself. Your mind reaches out for what it knows, and paints a picture based on your own primal fears. But when you know the truth? Or at least, part of it? You realize that the facts are so much worse than any fiction you could have drummed up on your own.

The other thing that comes to mind, the worse, much more horrible thing, is the fear of presence. It’s not enough to know that there’s something to be afraid of. To know that that... thing is with you all the time, that it follows you, or rather, never truly leaves you... that kind of oppressive persistence does things to a pony. You don’t sleep

(please no I don’t want to sleep what if it comes when I’m asleep is that it over there)

and it slowly destroys you. Reality and fantasy and all the little things in between blend together. And those little things? Murder on four

(no two no wait is that a fifth oh my lord what even IS that)

legs. Tiny little hells on Equuis. But you don’t see them until you can’t not see them. There are those, I think, who must live with this every day. How they do it I don’t know. How they live, eat, sleep

(no don’t sleep you can’t make me)

even breathe with their own personal devil lingering over their shoulder is beyond me.

I’ve been doing it for a while now, I suppose. So I guess it is possible. But it gets... not really harder. I mean yes, it’s hard to begin with, but that doesn’t change. I guess you just grow weaker with it. That’s what it waits for, in the end. Weakness. Goddess knows what it wants. Or they. I’m not really sure how many of them there are, now. If there is

(are was will be)

more than one of them

(it him is it a him is it HIM they he she maybe both)

or if it’s all just me.

Wouldn’t that be the scariest thing of all? If everything you were afraid of was just you? No less dangerous, no less deadly or terrifying or full of rows of shiny pointed teeth at the edge of your bed or right behind your ear, but just... you?

How do you run from yourself?

I guess you don’t.

Well, there’s something else more terrifying than the unknown: not being able to run.

It should have been an ordinary day. In fact, for the most part it was. It even started off just like all my other days. I got out of bed, a small little four-poster I moved to the very middle of the room. I like to keep flowers around the edges of my room, or if not flowers, gardening tools. The other flower mares may have their own special talents for leafy greens and whites and yellows, but roses require a special touch. And a certain amount of respect.

I mean, there aren’t a lot of ponies who say their special talent is something with thorns that you put in your mouth.

Or maybe there are. I try not to think about that.

Like I said, I woke up in bed that morning. Which is something of note, as I have a tendency to fall asleep talking to my flowers or working on my garden. It’s not that I spend every waking hour working on my plants. I do have friends and a social life, other obligations and family that I visit or visits me. But it’s easier to sleep with my flowers nearby. It’s safer. Even now, I think it’s safer.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We haven’t gotten to now yet.

First, (or second, I have been on and on for a bit), let me introduce myself. My name is Roseluck. There’s more to it than that, but everypony just calls me Roseluck. So that’s who I am. Anyway, you may have heard of me, or seen me around. The yellow mare with the red mane and tail, splash of pink in my hair. I’m usually in the middle of town. It’s where I live.

And where I woke up that morning. That wasn’t anything of note, though. I rarely wake up anywhere but my own house (unlike some mares I know). So I climbed out of bed, and started my morning ritual of saying hello to all my flowers, and watering them. There wasn’t really much to do that day, aside from watering. It was kind of a day off, I guess you could say. There are some days where I have to clean out my garden, or plant new flowers, or pick some to sell at market. But it was a few days to market yet, and my morning rounds gave me the all-clear to go and do what I wanted, today.

At least, until I heard Daisy scream.

Oh, don’t worry. It’s not that big a deal. Daisy has this... tendency to lose her head at rather little things. Like butterflies, for instance. I guess I can understand that one, because honestly, have you seen the things up close? Hell no. Plus, I don’t like cleaning their cocoons or the caterpillars out of my rose gardens. And she grows flowers, too. So maybe butterflies is a bad example.

But cereal. I swear to Celestia the girl has screamed out loud because she ran out of milk. And she sulked the rest of the day. So I could only imagine what the hell she was screaming about now.

I said goodbye to my flowers, all at once, and locked my door. Daisy doesn’t live very far away, but in a town with the Cutie Mark Crusaders and the Elements of Harmony, locking your door is second nature. First is checking to see if the world is still there when you wake up in the morning.

Seeing no impending disasters, I trotted over to Daisy’s house, and knocked on her door. I didn’t hear anything for a little while, until I heard a whole bunch of soft thumps, and one really big oomf. Then, silence. I was tempted to let myself in to make sure she was ok, but then I heard soft hoofsteps, and the door opened. And there stood Daisy, half-covered in her blanket. Already I could guess what happened.

“Let me guess, Daisy, you woke up wrapped in your blanket and screamed cause it was dark,” I posited. She nodded sheepishly, and gave me a small smile half-hidden by the blanket.

It’s a good thing she’s cute. Not that I’m that kind of mare. I’m just saying. It helps.

“Yeah, kind of. Do you wanna come in? I could make us some breakfast,” she offered.

“Do you have plenty of milk this time?” I gave her a wry smile as she pouted at me.

She was about to retort when I heard another scream. One that worried me quite a bit more than Daisy’s.

It’s long, loud, and rather close by.

And there’s not a lot of things that make Twilight Sparkle scream like that.

Chapter 2

I didn’t so much as chase Ditzy down as I did trot hurriedly after her. Until I caught up, and then walked in pace with her. She wasn’t really saying anything, and I was kind of surprised that she wasn’t just flying away. Of course, nopony seemed to be coming after her, so she didn’t really have a reason to. Those in the crowd that had seemed at all interested had since dispersed, or were content in whispering behind their hooves. Not that I was surprised by this.

The problem was, even after I’d caught up to Ditzy, I still had no idea what to say. I didn’t want to just ask her what happened, but I felt like I should say... something.

“Ditzy, I was-”

“My house,” was all she said. I didn’t even have time to figure out how my sentence was going to end. I thought about asking her to repeat herself, but she was plenty clear. She didn’t add anything to that, so we just kind of walked. We passed my place, where I saw Daisy just kind of staring out the window at us. I gave her a small smile and waved at her, hopefully getting the message across that she should just stay there and do whatever.

I wasn’t sure if she got it, or if she was just acting on her own intuition, but she didn’t come out, or say anything through the window. She just waved back with a more enthusiastic smile than I thought I was wearing, and closed the drapes. Probably under the impression that I was just cheering up a sad pegasus.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing.

The walk to Ditzy’s house wasn’t a long one. And I was grateful she wasn’t like the Rainbow Dashes of the world, who felt they needed to flout there pegasusity in cloud houses above the rest of us. Hers was just a little two-story place, a bit like mine. Neither of us said anything until we got to the front door, when she opened it for me and said, “Come on in.”

I uttered some generic thank you and walked in, directing myself to the living room. I figured I was going in the right direction when she didn’t stop or correct me.

Ditzy’s home was obviously that of a single mother. There were toys everywhere, in some semblance of chaos, but enough space that it wasn’t necessarily messy. Just a bit complex. I found some rather generously empty space on a couch, and climbed up to make myself comfortable. Getting a good look at the rest of the place, I saw that it was rather haphazardly decorated with pictures, drawings, and some rather uncoordinated, if somewhat pleasant, carpeting and wallpaper.

It felt like a home.

Ditzy hadn’t made any offers for water, or tea, or anything to eat. She’d just let me take a seat, and then sat herself in a chair facing me. She looked ready to say something when I heard tiny hoofsteps bounding down the stairs.

The effect was instantaneous. The grey pegasus’s expression went from solemn, apologetic, and contemplative to the sheer joy of being a mother. As soon as that little unicorn filly popped her head in the room Ditzy was all smiles and motherly warmth. It wasn’t a side I saw very often, although I did see her happy most of the time. Considering all of the criticism, and even bullying, she got on a regular basis, it was hard for me to understand exactly where she could pull all that happiness from.

Watching her smile at her daughter was all I needed to figure it out.

“Momma! Welcome home, momma! Did you get off work early?” little Dinky cried out, overjoyed.

Ditzy nodded, scooping up her daughter in a big hug. “Of course I did! I told those big ol’ meanie boss ponies that I had to go home and play with my little Dinky Do!” she cooed. The giggled and laughed together, and Dinky wriggled around as her mother tickled her with her feathers.

I was actually surprised when Dinky noticed me, so enveloping was there little world. “Auntie Rosie! Whatcha doin’ here?” Dinky asked cheerfully, appearing as happy to see me as she was her own mother.

Not for the first time in my life I thought about having one of my own. “Well, I saw your momma was just walkin’ home, and I followed her cause I was bored.” I wasn’t as creative or placatingly cute as Ditzy, but the little unicorn took it in stride.

“Well, we got lots ta do here! You won’t be bored no more!” Her excitement was contagious, and for a moment I’d forgotten why I was here. To be fair, I hadn’t exactly figured it out, but apparently Ditzy had.

“Hey, Lil’ Do, I need to talk to Aunt Rosie for a bit, ok? Why don’t you go outside and play for a bit? We’ll all have something to eat when we’re done.” Her voice was a bit quieter, more solemn, and Dinky seemed to pick up on it.

“Is somethin’ wrong, momma?” she asked, tilting her head. Her expression faltered just a bit, but her mother picked her up and tickled her just a little with her wing.

“Nothin’ big. Nopony’s mad or anything. We just gotta talk about grown-up stuff.”

“...is it about money again?”

I saw Ditzy twitch, just a little. That small pang you feel when the weight of a world your kids shouldn’t be ready for weighs in. When even the little ones know something’s wrong. It was the kind of question you know your kids shouldn’t have to ask you.

“No, Lil’ Do, it’s not about money. ...Miss Twilight’s not feeling well, so we’re trying to find a way to cheer her up till she gets better. You know, like we did when Sweetie Belle got the Chickity Pox,” she explained. Telling at least most of the truth gave Ditzy enough confidence in her voice that her daughter believed her.

And all at once it was that childish innocence again. “Oh, ok! Ooh, I know! I’m gonna go pick a bunch of flowers for Miss Twilight!” She hopped down out of her mother’s reach again and headed for the door.

“Auntie Daisy’s at my house, if you wanna ask her for help!” I called out as she threw the door open.

I heard her call out, “Ok! Love you momma!” as she disappeared around the corner and ran past the window.

“Love you Do!” her mother called back, full of the same cheer as when those little hoofsteps echoed down the stairwell.

We paused for a moment as tiny trotting steps faded off into town. Finally, I commented, “She’s adorable.”

“Yeah she is,” Ditzy agreed, full of motherly pride. “I’m so proud of her. She tries so hard.”

We chatted for a little about little Dinky, and home life, but eventually we ran out of things to procrastinate on. Which, actually, didn’t take all that long.

After only a few minutes of idle chatter, I felt the need to redirect the conversation.

“So, about Twi-”

“I’m not retarded.”

“...” I didn’t have any response to that. Being interrupted again did irk me a little, mind you, but the statement was so out of left field I didn’t have time to process being bothered by it. “What?”

“I’m not retarded, Rose. I know ponies say I am. Or that I have a head injury. Or something wrong,” she elaborated, pointing at her eye. The one staring off in another direction.

“Ok, so... what does that have to do with Twilight?”

She paused for a moment, seeming thoughtful, or maybe planning what she was going to say next. “Roseluck, I know you know that I’m not a creative pony. I’m not a good liar, because I don’t believe in it. That’s why Dinky knows that sometimes we have trouble with money. Because I don’t lie to her. So whatever I say next, you gotta know that I’m not lying to you, either. I’m not crazy.”

It was one of those moments where you know that whatever comes next is something you can’t prepare yourself for. Like watching a doctor trot down a hallway, and he isn’t smiling. And you’ve been waiting for hours. But I didn’t feel like leaving. Or changing the subject. Whatever it was, whatever Ditzy thought was so outrageous she had to preface it so bluntly, it messed up Twilight pretty good. Or at least it was something about that.

I felt like I was watching the train barrel down, and wasn’t in the right mind to remember I could step out of the way.

“There are... I want to call them things, but they’re not, really. They’re alive, in some sense of the word. Creatures, maybe? It’s... hard to attach words to them. But they’re everywhere. Right alongside us. Some people see them all the time. You hear the stories. Vamponies, timberweres, the like. Just ponies making sense of something stranger. You probably think me a kook just bringing it up, but stay with me. It’s all relevant. There are... things in broad daylight that ponies can’t see. Most ponies. Or at least, they don’t want to. It’s not like they know about it. Their minds are protecting them,” she explained.

I was already lost. “Ditzy, what are you on about? What does this have to do with Twilight? Did she see some kind of monster or whatever?” I was used to monsters. Not like, having them around, but the idea. We lived near the everfree forest. Manticores and dragons and cockatrices were common knowledge and public hazards. So I wasn’t really sure where Ditzy was going with all of this that she thought I might not believe her.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then changed tactics. “Do you ever get that feeling of ‘Over-your-shoulder’? Like there’s something behind you, and you turn your head real slow and there’s nothing there when you turn around? Like you read a scary story and all of a sudden all the noises in your house, all the darkness is just a little more so?”

I nodded. I knew the feeling well. I loved horror stories.

“They’re kind of like that. Except it’s all the time. Just that little glimpse in the corner of your eye. That itch down your back or on your leg. Like there’s a bug, and even when you look and don’t see a bug it’s still there. That feeling. That’s... them. They’re not really ghosts. They’re not dead. They just live... different. Like they’re alive differently than us.”

I tilted my head, slowly catching up. “So what does this have to do with Twilight?”

“They don’t like being watched, you see. They don’t like it when ponies see them. That’s why you can’t see them. Or more like why you don’t. They can tell ponies things. They tell them things, and then it happens. Small stuff, mostly. Like ‘Look over there’ or ‘Don’t turn around’. Nothing really dangerous. But sometimes, a pony doesn’t listen. They don’t like to be seen because they can’t move when they’re being looked at. They have to stare back. I don’t know if it’s a rule or something, but it makes them mad. They just sit there, or float, or whatever it is they do, and be mad. Sometimes they just scare ponies. Like Twilight. It just scared her. Didn’t hurt her. She’ll probably ok in her body as long as she gets ok in her head. Like I said, they can tell ponies things. I don’t know what it told her, but she didn’t like it.”

While she talked, my shoulder itched. It itched something bad. I scratched it, of course. And I saw that the one eye that was looking at me glanced at the hoof that was scratching my shoulder.

The other eye didn’t move.

“But sometimes they get really really angry. Sometimes they hurt ponies. That little itchy feeling on your leg, or your back, starts to hurt. Then, maybe it... changes. Your fur gets darker. Or thinner. You can’t walk quite as good. Or stand up as straight. Maybe you see things. Not them. They don’t want you to see them. But you see things. You hear ‘em, too. Think them. Your dreams get darker. Your head gets heavy. But only when you’re not looking at them,” she kept rambling, but it wasn’t really rambling. She was distinct. Clearer than I normally hear her. Steady. Like she was trying to keep my focus. She had it, of course.

But my shoulder itched. I wanted to see what was wrong with it. I scratched it again, and again, Ditzy’s one eye followed my hoof.

The other one started to follow it, too. Just a little.

“If you see them, you gotta keep looking. You can blink and stuff, cause they’re not really fast. They don’t disappear. Unless you look away. Sometimes they leave you alone. Sometimes you can talk to ‘em. Make a deal. You let them go if they leave you alone. We have power over them, you see. They don’t like that. They’re not used to it. So if you catch one in your sights, you gotta keep it there till it promises to be nice. That’s one of the other rules. They gotta keep their promises. I think. They haven’t lied to me yet.”

“You, uh... you talk--to--them?” I asked, my attention wavering as my shoulder bothered me. I glanced a little at it to see what was wrong, but just a bit. I thought I saw something sparkle in the sunlight, or something, but I didn’t. Maybe.

“Yeah. They show up a lot around me. Or, I don’t know. Maybe they’re everywhere and I just notice them a lot.”

The more my shoulder itched, and the more I glanced at it, the more Ditzy looked at my shoulder. Soon, the one eye that was focused on me was focused on the shoulder, even as we were talking.

The other eye was, too. I’d never seen her look straight before.

That’s when I heard it. Just a little.

(“turn around”)

“They follow ponies that make them mad. Bother them. Sometimes just a little. Sometimes all at once, like Twilight. Sometimes for a really long time.”

That’s when it clicked in my head.

(“turn around”)

“Ditzy?”

(“turn around”)

“Yes?”

(“don’t look”)

My head din’t turn, but my gaze followed hers. “What are you looking at?” There was something there-

(“DON’T LOOK AT ME.”)

I didn’t hear Ditzy’s answer. I didn’t hear anything. There was this high-pitched, loud noise filling my ears as I ran out the front door. As I ran across town. As I ran home.

It was only when I got through my own front door did I realize I was screaming.

Chapter 3

I screamed.

Screamed and screamed til I lost track of time. Screamed till my throat bled. And I ran the whole time. Well, as much as I could. There’s only so much more running you can do after you lock yourself in your room.

The blood in the back of my mouth drizzled down my throat, nearly down the wrong pipe. I spent a few minutes hacking and coughing until I spat out a splatter of red on the hardwood floor. I kept coughing, because it felt like I had more blood. In actuality I was probably just making my throat bleed more. I trotted myself to my bathroom sink, which for the life of me felt like dragging dead weight with my front hooves, until I finally let myself slump over the counter and breathe.

The cool hardtop was a stark contrast to the heat in my cheeks and the heavy beat of my heart. I could almost hear it reverberate in the fixtures and echo through the pipes. It wouldn’t have surprised me. Nothing at that point would, or could, I don’t think, simply for the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to focus on it long enough to be surprised.

I spat out a little bit more blood, and passed out. I was mildly aware of the presence of someone else in the room as my consciousness faded

Waking up from passing out is rather different than waking up in the morning. After you sleep, if you’re anything like me, you simply wake up. There’s no transition. It’s just a switch going off in your head. Nothing special.

Returning to consciousness from fainting, however, is a slow, almost arduous process. Your mind tries to protect itself, to keep you unconscious and safe from whatever external stimuli that induced your lapse in consciousness. It’s more like a struggle to make yourself aware of everything around you. Light fades in and out, and sound comes in snippets as your ability to process it sways back and forth.

“...she ok...

“...hell was she screaming about...”

“...found her...”

“...on the floor? Really...”

My perception of the room seemed to come in a jumbled mess, like being shown one piece of a jigsaw puzzle at a time. I saw a lamp, something familiar that was pink, a hoof, some bright light, and finally, when I could see more than three inches of space surrounded by blur, I focused on the rather confused face of Daisy. Fortunately or no, my ability to process noise also seemed to return in full.

“What the hell were you doing?You ran right past me screaming like... like...”

“Like you?” Said a familiar and snarky voice behind me. I knew it, but didn’t necessarily want to tilt my head to confirm my suspicions.

“I don’t scream like that all the time!” Daisy pouted.

Unfortunately, the position I was in was extremely uncomfortable, so I rolled over. And looked up. “Hello, Philharmonica. Why are you in my house?”

Octavia tilted her head in concern. Pouting slightly, she offered a hoof to help me up. I begrudgingly accepted, not wanting to seem weak, and brought myself to my hooves. I felt for a moment that I might need the help again, as my body swayed uncertainly, but I steadied myself, and made a point to stand straight. “Oh come on, Rose. You run screaming through the streets like a madmare and you expect nopony to be concerned about you? Of course I wanted to make sure you were ok,” she said, sounding slightly hurt.

“Right, I’m sorry. Thank you. I just... look, I’m not even entirely sure what just happened, and I could hardly explain it to you. I’m just still a little freaked out, and I seem to remember coughing up blood at some point, so forgive me if I seem a little edgy,” I apologized halfheartedly, even if I didn’t mean it.

She gave me a look that I didn’t quite recognize. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were on something. That sounds almost word for word like a bad acid trip.”

Part of me wanted to ask how she knew, but the other part wanted sleep.I turned around to find a place to sit, and was reminded of Daisy’s presence. She looked more than a little freaked out. “Forget about me, are you ok, Daisy?”

“Ok? Ok?! Of course I’m not ok! You come tearing through the door screaming your head off like you just lost a limb and run straight into your room, which doesn’t actually lock by the way, been meaning to tell you that, and then you cough up a bunch of blood and pass out all over your bathroom sink?! Did you even see me at all when you ran in here? I was right there when you fell over! I thought you were dead or something! Can you believe...” she rambled on in frustration, and I turned to the grey cellist for a more concise answer.

“Don’t look at me. She started screaming a little after you stopped. There were a few ponies that were more than concerned by you running through town, but so many of us are used to... her,” she gestured to a still-rambling Daisy, “that quite a few ponies lost interest. You almost ran a hole right through me, though, so i felt mildly oblidged to ensure you weren’t possessed or high.”

I felt a slight smirk cross my face as I threw myself into my couch. “‘Preciate it.” I sank into the cushions, and was met with the irking sensation that I was missing something.

She herself took a seat on the opposite end, and asked, “So what exactly happened?”

I thought about my answer. Hard. I wasn’t even entirely sure what did happen. I just knew some... thing yelled at me. Or, rather, thought. Was it even a yell? Part of me felt like I saw something, but the only thing I could remember with any clarity was having a conversation with Ditzy. “Honestly I don’t remember any details. I was talking to Ditzy, and... something happened. I don’t know what.” That sensation surfaced again. I felt a little cold, almost, and empty.

She tilted her head to look at me. “Does it have anything to do with what happened at Princess Twilight’s this morning?”

“I... think so...” that was weird. Why was my speech slurred?

Octavia said something else, but I didn’t hear it.

It was at that point that I realized what I was missing.

All the blood had rushed out of my head. Hello again, sleep.

After the second time waking up from passing out, I was starting to get tired of it. No pun intended. This time, however, I awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Well, unfamiliar in that I didn’t recognize them right away.

Hospitals are a familiar setting to almost anypony, for one reason or another. This time, I woke slightly faster. Sound and light didn’t cut out as frequently, and I quickly grasped the conversation going on around me. Or at least, nearby. All of the other ponies in the room were standing on the other side of a curtain, chatting morosely about somepony’s condition. I prayed it wasn’t me, and then I noticed the silhouette of another pony in the neighboring bed. A couple of doctor spoke in low tones, but I caught phrases like “psychosis” and “self-harm”. Celestia knws why the put me in a room next to him.

I laid back down and was getting ready to fall back asleep when the doctors on the other side of the curtain turned and started to move towards me. My first impression as that they wanted to speak to me.

My second impression was that there was something very wrong.

It took me a moment to realize what it was. I could tell that there were two of them. They turned to each other and made quiet comments as they walked. Maybe it was the slow, deliberate pace with which they approached me? Or was it the fact that they didn’t seem to be getting closer?

My second idea was quickly dispelled by one of them reaching for the edge of the curtain, ready to draw it back. It was then that I realized what was wrong with them. Their shadows. Their voices.

There was only one set of hooves between the two.

I shrank back into my bed as far as I could, trying to pull the covers over me. But Celestia-be-damned hospital corners, the sheets wouldn’t give. After I heard the curtain rustle slightly, I froze, and turned my head slowly to watch the fabric draw back on the metal bar holding it up.

It was an agonizingly slow process. I stared at their wrong hooves, their wrong heads talking to each other, the hoof reaching for the curtain even as all four of their hooves stayed in place on the ground.

Then, with a snap, the curtain drew back. Revealing one absolutely ordinary doctor.

I almost jumped out of bed. Whether to hug him or dive for the window, I wasn’t sure.

He cut right to the chase, seemingly ignorant to my distressed state. “Well, Miss Roseluck, you seem to be a little worse for wear, but nothing awful. There was some slight bleeding in the back of your throat, which we patched. You may not have noticed it yet, but you’re going to experience some itching and a scratching sensation back there. Usually we don’t see these kinds of throat injuries outside of metal singers.”

“Metal?” I whispered, thinking that might be safer. It wasn’t. Hurt like hell.

“Oh yes. You’re going to want to drink plenty of lemon juice, in small doses of course, and lots of water. I also strongly advise against whispering, as you’ve just experienced. All of the damage is to your vocal chords, and whispering constricts them. It’s like squeezing a paper cut. Try to stick to your normal speaking voice, nothing more, nothing less,” he explained. “Now, the good news is you didn’t pass out thanks to any kind of blood loss. That seemed to be a worry of that Daisy friend of yours. After she settled down, of course. But you put your body under a great deal of stress very quickly, and changed gears rather hard. Plus, there’s sort of a checklist of things to do and not to do after you pass out, and throwing yourself at your furniture and talking with blood in your stomach aren’t on the “do” list,” he chuckled, amused by his own joke.

I flopped back in bed, and stared at the ceiling. “Well that’s fun,” I grumbled. My throat itched like crazy and talking was rather sore.

“Of course, you could always not talk. I do advise that one.”

I gave him a look, and he smiled at me. Apparently he thought himself a comedian. “So where are my friends?”

He nodded behind him. “Right outside. I wanted to talk to you myself to make sure you didn’t do any more damage to your vocal chords in the course of normal conversation. I’ll let them in in just a moment if you like.”

“That sounds good. Hey, Doc?” I added, after a brief pause.

He’d turned around and was about to walk back out of the room. “Yes?”

“What’s with the patient next to me, anyway? Do I need to be worried?”

He looked at me quizzically, then at the other bed in the room. “Who?”

I looked where he was looking. Even though i couldn’t see the bed, I could see the shadow it cast.

Empty.

I turned back to my doctor, who smiled gently at me. “Miss Rose you may just need some time to relax. Obviously something today has stressed you a great deal. It may be prudent to find a work schedule that is a little less stressful. Maybe take some time off, let your voice heal.”

I nodded, putting the thought of the shadows behind the curtain in the back of my mind. Laying my head back against the pillow, I decided to let myself fall asleep. Naturally this time.

Chapter 4

Waking up in the hospital at night is both one of the most depressing and terrifying things an individual can experience. The sense of isolation bred from waking up alone in an unlit, unfamiliar room. The chorus of unfamiliar sounds just outside your door, or window. It’s quite different than waking up at say, a friend’s house. You know that feeling? Where at first you don’t recognize anything, and you don’t remember why you’re there? Those first few seconds of unrecognizable decor and sounds while you try to piece together the events before you fell asleep?

Waking up in a hospital bed is very similar. Not in the least because most everypony sleeps in a hospital bed in the exact same pose: splayed out like a corpse on an autopsy table. Does anypony sleep like that naturally? If they have, I haven’t met them. It’s one thing to recover from a mildly comfortable position and regain your bearings as you process everything. It’s quite another to sit straight up from a pose you know you wouldn’t fall asleep in normally, to a place you don’t recognize right away, in an environment that is basically standard fare for nightmares and horror movies.

The first thing I became aware of was beeping. I was attached to a heart monitor, which I assumed was normal for overnight observation. I don’t spend a lot of time in the hospital. Prying my eyes open was an act of patience and a test of mettle; a large part of me didn’t want to know what the world looked like outside my closed eyes. Especially since that world had started to change around me in the span of a day.

Finally, my eyes cracked open, and I took in what little decor I could make out in the dark room. Hospital machinery and moonlight provided some illumination, but it’s my firm belief that unfamiliar territory has this innate ability to generate darkness with a natural resistance to light. Why the hell else would flashlights be so shitty in those movies?

I took in the decor, trying to familiarize myself with the room, as if it were getting ready to change on me like some sick, sadistic “Spot the Differences” game. A generical, yet visually appealing flowerpot sat on the windowsill, bearing a couple of tulips. Not my flower of choice, but a comforting thought nonetheless. Like a weed growing through the sidewalk, flowerpots in otherwise “sterile” environments are a small glimmer of hope that something can live in a place made of cold steel and white tile. Just beyond it sat a couple of “get well” cards standing in folded positions. Gifts from my friends, no doubt, or maybe a generic gesture on behalf of the hospital staff. I couldn’t tell in this lighting whose hoof- or muzzle-writing it was.

Slowly marching my eyes across the room, I saw a cheap CRT TV propped up on a metal rack in the upper-right corner. I assumed somewhere nearby there was a remote control to operate it. Below that, a corkboard almost completely hidden behind notices, charts, schedules, and miscellaneous paperwork. Most of which I could only determine by large block lettering and the always-recognizable shape of a calendar printout.

The curtain next to me was drawn wide open, and I saw, more than a little relieved, that it was indeed empty. It had been made up properly, the tops of the blankets and sheets tucked neatly under the pillows, and hospital corners at the end. It was tucked in properly all around, and I felt myself slightly restrained by similar bedmaking skills. The procedural equivalent of being tucked in. My eyes lingered on the bed a little longer than they should have, as if to absolutely make for sure certain that nothing was going to launch itself at me from that corner of the room. Staring into the almost completely darkened corner gave my eyes time to adjust, so that I could see the rest of the room rather clearly. Or, as clearly as could be allowed.

I decided to focus on the array of... stuff in my immediate vicinity. There was the small plastic table nearby with a complimentary glass of water on it. I imagine at one point they’d left food there, but took it away as I continued to sleep. Come to think of it, I had no idea what time it was, come to think of it, aside from the obvious answer of the middle of the night. My train of thought led me to search out a clock on the wall.

I found it soon enough. A simple black and white clock, circular in shape and positioned a foot or two from the ceiling in the middle of the far wall. There was something peculiar about it, though. I could hear the ticking, but it wasn’t quite right. According to the clock, however, it was 12:01. Just a bit past midnight. And although there was a subtle something about the clock that I couldn’t quite put my hoof on, it didn’t seem important. So I went about searching the room.

It was during my second pass of investigating the bed that I noticed it. A crease in the blanket. Now, in any other scenario I wouldn’t even pay attention. But in a hospital, a crease in a blanket is tantamount to having turned the entire bed upside down. Details and aesthetics are very important, at least to someone. And if your job is nothing more important than making sure all of the beds in a hospital look spic and span, then by goddess they’re going to stay that way. So I observed the crease for some time. It didn’t seem quite right, honestly. Like the shadow of a pony earlier, or the ticking of the clock

(that was getting louder, just a little, wasn’t it?)

there was something not quite right. I figured out soon enough what it was, though. The crease, while somewhat diagonal, and near the bottom of the bed, was, essentially, impossible. Any amount of scrutiny of the rest of the bedspread would assure any onlooker that all the edges were straight, tidy, and folded just right. There was no room for that crease, that fold in the blanket, to exist. The sheet was pulled too tight, was laid out too straight.

Yet there it was. Simple, innocuous, but impossible. Almost foreboding in its defiance of the natural order of hospital bedding. I investigated the crease, well as I could from my position in my bed, until something quite a bit more alarming happened.

The damn thing moved.

Not like one of those lumps under the sheets in the kinds of horror movies I mentioned earlier (which I have a bit of a passion for, I’ll admit). It didn’t suddenly start creeping toward me, the sheets and blankets rippling as an ominous bulge surged forward beneath the covers.

It simply creased more. Became more pronounced. And still, the surrounding bedding was unaffected. It folded on itself, bundling up and scrunching together. And as my eyes focused and unfocused in disbelief, I saw that it wasn’t just the sheet, anymore. I watched in disbelief, a kind of mental stasis, as the wall beyond the crease folded, as well. A sense of morbid curiosity led me to follow the crease to the end of the bed. The tiles, too, seemed to fold into themselves. Linoleum cracked and metal creaked as the fold expanded, and soon, like the heat off a metal roof in the summer, the air shimmered with intensity as it seemingly tried to collapse in on itself.

I made an attempt to ignore it. To simply look away, and forget it was there. Like the doctor(s) earlier that day, I made the assumption

(blind hope don’t kid yourself)

that it would simply go away with time. Or if I just didn’t look at it. However, tearing my eyes, and my mind, from the impossible collapse before me left it to wander in a desperate attempt to latch onto something else as a distraction.

The only thing I could seek out, or rather, the thing that sought out my attention, was the infernal clock. And suddenly, like hearing a name you’ve been trying to remember all day, it clicked: the clock was ticking backwards. Even the sound of the ticking was reversed. I looked up at the clock, and saw that it had relapsed back to midnight. Or, more precisely, midnight and thirty seconds.

Tearing my attention away from the clock was a task comparable to the great feats of strength a hero performs in lifting their compatriot out of the canyon, or bottomless pit, or whatever endless crevasse they had risked falling into. I latched onto my focus with one steely hoof, as if I needed the other three just to keep myself firmly planted in reality, and tore my eyes and ears away from the clock.

Yet all that was left for my mind to latch n to was the ever-expanding fold of the room around me. It had grown in the short time I had tried to ignore it. As if time had slowed while I was watching it, like the fabled pot on the stove that never boils, and had returned to normal

(normal are you kidding me the clock is ticking backwards)

while my attention was elsewhere. Soon I saw the foot of my bed folding into itself, and the air around it. The sheets tugged, yet stayed in place, and I could feel the taught pressure of linens holding me in place.

It was about this time that I remembered screaming was a thing. So I did. Yet the sound, while escaping my throat in a normal, and as of lately, familiar capacity, seemed to reach the distortion, and reverberate back to me. In reverse. s I screamed, I heard my own tormented cry played backwards like a slowly reversing turntable recording. And in hearing my own screams played back to me, as if to remind me of the futility of such an action, once again my mind latched on to the ticking of the clock. Still in reverse, louder than ever, as if the space between me and the clock had somehow shortened, and my ear was pressed against it intently, trying to discern any little differences between each tick and tock. My eyes swung up to the clock in a panic, and I saw that now it was merely ten seconds to midnight. Correction, nine.

The edge of the bed had folded in on itself so intensely you couldn’t see it because it was in the way.

(Eight)

My rational mind lashed out, reaching for any kind of explanation, some mental ward or barrier I could place between myself and the world around me.

(Seven)

What was it Ditzy had said? They could change your perception of the world around you.

(Six)

That had to be it. I was hallucinating. My legs and hooves really weren’t folding in on themselves. I scrunched my eyelids tight and prayed for the world to go away.

(fivefourthree)

My eyes shot open as the ticking of the clock hurried itself, as horrid indignation shot through me. I looked up at the offending timepiece, somehow the only part of the room not horribly distorted or now part of something else.

(Two)

I braced myself for midnight, the moment that hadn’t happened, yet we were counting backwards to.

(One)

I don’t know what I expected to happen once it became... yesterday? Or would the day start over? What happened after

(Zero)

Waking up in the hospital at night is both one of the most depressing and terrifying things an individual can experience.

Author's Note

New cover art by dreamingnoctis, the artist for the AskAsylumTwilight tumblr.

Chapter 5

I’ve never been a fan of hospitals. But after the day I’d had yesterday, and the... nightmare last night, I’ve come to the conclusion that they are dreadfully horrible places. The machinations of some evil and twisted physician who believed that anypony stupid enough to get sick should suffer even more. Like insult to injury for the truly injured.

Waking up for real this time, I noticed it was rather close to dawn. Close enough that some slightly less reasonable ponies would be up by this hour, but far enough away that the sun had not risen yet.

Sitting awake in a room that just tried to fold me into myself for an hour or two before anypony else even walked past my door was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Eventually, I did notice that I was, in fact, attached to a heart monitor. I assumed it was because I’d shown a propensity to lose consciousness at regular intervals throughout the day lately. So I couldn’t exactly blame them for wanting to make sure I didn’t suddenly develop a predisposition to, you know, stopping breathing.

The next couple of hours dragged on with paranoia-filled slowness. At least, the first thirty minutes did. After that I was just kind of bored. I realized a few minutes after waking up that my heart had been pounding rather hard, so I assume the large surge of adrenaline from my nightmare was doing its damnedest to keep me awake. But once the paranoia and adrenaline wore off, I kind of just lay there boringly conscious. I think it was a combination of having been basically kickstarted first thing in the morning, and a nagging apprehension against falling asleep again.

If this is what my nightmares were going to be like from here on out, I might want to talk to the doctor about sleeping pills.

The first sign of other ponies even existing in this building came a few hours after I’d brown bored and was actually starting to fall asleep again. The doctor from yesterday poked his muzzle into the room, and, seeing as how I was awake, trotted in to have a few words with me.

“Good morning, Roseluck. Any trouble sleeping?” Tch. Of course he’d ask me that first thing.

“You mean aside from the debilitating nightmares and waking up at O Dark Thirty with enough adrenaline to power a small cart of schoolchildren? Yes,” I said flatly, giving him an unamused look.

He raised an eyebrow and made a few notes. “Well, since you seem to be in such a chipper mood, I’ll spare you the standard questions of what your dreams were about. But given that you seem to be rational, if a bit snarky, you probably won’t need therapy anytime soon.

Don’t count on that, I thought to myself.

“But I will be prescribing something to help you sleep. An herbal remedy developed by a local of ours, a Miss Zecora. I don’t want to throw anything pharmaceutical at you until we’ve done some tests, but getting adequate sleep is rather important. Especially given the results of some of your tests.” He must have seen the look of absolute alarm on my face, because he quickly added, “Oh, no, not like that! It’s just that you came back with some rather high levels of adrenaline, and the tissue in your throat seems a bit damaged. I merely meant to say that taking things easy for now, and letting your voice and your adrenal glands take a break might do you some good.”

I heaved a sigh and felt quite a bit of stress simply fall away. “Good grief, don’t do that. Right, yeah, herbal teas. I can do that,” I agreed. Then I had a thought. “Um, you said Zecora put this together?”

“Mm-hmm,” the doc said absentmindedly, as he filled out some more paperwork on a clipboard in front of him. I could barely see him past the thing.

“Is there any chance I could talk to her? I had some questions about some... abstract subjects I’d... read about recently. I thought about talking to Princess Twilight, but last I saw her she wasn’t exactly in peak condition.

The doc looked up from his board. “And she’s not getting any better, it seems. I haven’t been treating her myself, but she seems to be the worse for wear every day. Her friends are, understandably, fiercely worried about her. But to answer your question, yes. I can certainly see about contacting Zecora for you. Unless of course you’d like to march through the Everfree to see her on your own time.”

Buck that. Buck all of that. “Uh, no thanks. I’d appreciate the referral.”

A little while after the doctor checked in, they took my blood again, and ran a couple of tests. I ended up leaving with a prescription for that herbal tea and a long, drawn out doctor’s note that basically said “sleep it off”.

Something told me that was the exact opposite of what I should do. So instead, I decided to see if it was possible to visit Miss Sparkle before I headed home again.

Finding the psych ward always seems to be both the easiest and hardest thing to do. You know exactly where it is, but given the nature of the patients, there are only a finite number of ways you can actually get there. You know, aside from being crazy.

I asked around, and was able to get as far as a security checkpoint before a royal guard stopped me. “I’m sorry, miss, but we’re not allowed to permit unauthorized ponies past this point. Just family members, staff, and essential ponies. Do you have a family member in this wing?”

Not having a legitimate excuse, or even a really good fake one, I said, “No. I just wanted to check on the princess. i was there yesterday morning when she... started having issues.”

The stallion looked at me with an expression of sad gratitude. “We appreciate your concern for the princess, and will let her know that you dropped-”

“Roseluck!” said a familiar voice behind the guard. I glanced past him, even as he turned around to see who it was. Applejack came trotting up the hall to meet us, and said to the guard, “It’s ok. We need to have a word with her anyway.”

The officer gave me a wary look, but given that I was apparently getting an escort from one of the Elements, he deemed me worthy to pass. “Just don’t go into the Princess’s room, alright?” he said.

Applejack gave him her assurances that I wouldn’t, and led me to a small waiting room near where a larger crowd of guards, and some of Twilight’s friends, were hanging out. We sat at opposite ends of a table, and Applejack wasted no time getting to the point. “Listen, do you have any idea what’s goin’ on? I know you ran off with Derpy-”

“Ditzy,” I said firmly.

“-right, Ditzy. Sorry. But anyways, you two ran off together after Twilight... well, after yesterday mornin’, and we don’t have any idea what happened. All of us have been tryin’ to talk to Der-Ditzy after the fact, but between her job and her kid and us trying to help Twilight out in our own ways, we haven’t had the time to get a straight answer. Can ya help a mare out, here?” she pleaded.

I gave her a piteous look. “Applejack, the sad truth is I don’t know much more than you do, and I actually sat down and talked with Ditzy about it. I’m still trying to make sense of what’s going on. But there’s a couple things I do know, or have been able to figure out,” I added, after seeing AJ’s crestfallen look. She raised her eyes to me again.

“Yeah?”

“Well, the first thing is that this isn’t Ditzy’s fault. It’s... something else. Buck me if I know what, but that mare isn’t the cause of it. More like a really involved bystander. After that, all I know is that it seems to be... spreading? I guess is the word?” she gave me a confused, and distinctly worried, look. I explained, in general terms, some of the... events of the last couple of days. “They sent me home telling me to sleep it off and drink some tea, but I’m kind of afraid to. I’m going to talk to Zecora later. The doc is going to ask her to come up so I can have a word with her.”

Applejack nodded. “That don’t seem like too awful an idea, to be honest.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say without being redundant or cliche, so I took a second to glance around the room. I traded glances with some of Twilight’s friends in the crowd around her door, and noticed something.

“Hey, where’s Pinkie Pie?”

Applejack shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. Nopony has. I’m startin’ to think-”

“Excuse me, miss?” said a guard that neither of us had noticed walk up to the table. We both gave a bit of a jump, myself more than AJ, and turned to him.

“What’s up?” Applejack asked.

“Twilight Sparkle has some visitors, and they say they need to speak to everypony,” he explained, and stepped aside so we could see who he was talking about.

“Pinkie Pie!” Applejack yelped in surprise.

“Zecora?!” I asked, rather confused.

The zebra nodded at us, but before she could get a rhyme in edgewise, Pinkie said, it what was probably the calmest voice I’d ever heard her use, “We need to talk.”

Great.

Author's Note

AIN'T.

DEAD.

Chapter 6

I'd never seen Pinkie Pie so... somber. It was a little worrying, and considering the last twenty-four hours of my life, worrying was exactly what I didn't need. The rest of Twilight's friends, Zecora and I all gathered in the waiting room, making a small circle out of the seats. Everyone seemed to be focused on Zecora, but I was more inclined to watch Pinkie Pie for a while longer. She didn't seem to have the same twitchy feeling that I did, which was, hopefully, a good sign.

“I'm sure I don't need to tell you this; but something with Twilight is quite amiss. Young Pinkie Pie came straight to me; after your meeting with miss Ditzy,” Zecora explained.

“I was wonderin' why you'd off and ran out the door when things started getting' weird, Pinkie,” interjected Applejack. “Why didn't you say anythin' to us?”

Pinkie Pie looked up in surprise. “I did! I mean, I am! This is me saying the thing that you think I didn't say about going to see Zecora and finding out about all the weird creeptastic stuff going on!” She looked like she was going to say more, but Zecora raised a hoof, and she fell silent.

Ok, now I was really worried. It usually took food or a hoof in the mouth to stop Pinkie's verbal freight train.

The zebra continued, “In truth the delay was all my fault; It took quite some time to explore my vault. I'd heard, of course, of the troubles at hand; but those stories come from a distant land.”

I was waiting for her to finish her story, when Rainbow Dash interjected. “Wait, wait, wait. A vault?! You have a freakin' vault?! What for?!”

“It's what she calls her library,” said Fluttershy. I jumped a little, mainly because she was right beside me, and I forget she's there. She noticed my startled movement, and in true doormat fashion, apologized. “Oh, I'm sorry.”

There was some commotion as the group got sidetracked with the fact Zecora had a secret library stashed somewhere, and Fluttershy new about it. So much so that I got a little twitchy. “Will you all shut up?! I think we have more important things to discuss, like, I don't know, your friend in the hospital?!”

The guards gave me a look, and started walking towards me, but seeing as how everyone came to the consensus of “solve the problem” and settled down, they stopped halfway. Of course they just sat there and stared at us. Nothing creepy about that, boys.

Our Everfree native cleared her throat, and pressed on. “The stories come from a time long ago; they speak of madness and things below. The answers you seek are better left unsaid; be careful the things you let into your head. But it does not mean that help does not exist; it simply lies in the things betwixt. I can and would take to to where a 'cure' rests; but not all of you may come. It is for the best.”

Half the girls looked like they had headaches just from listening to her talk. Dash, especially. Since nopony else was saying anything right away, I asked, “Can I come?”

Zecora considered me for a moment, then shook her head. “It is best you avoid the realms that we travel; if not, then your mind may further unravel. I would take them to where these hidden beasts dwell. To avoid further contact, you would do well.”

After the three seconds it took to decipher that, I sunk further into my seat. “Don't poke the hornets nest after you're already stung. Got it.”

She just nodded, and smiled slightly. Then Rarity spoke up. “So why is it that only a few of us can go with you? We all want to help Twilight!”

Rainbow Dash jumped into the air. “That's right! I'm not leaving my friend hangin' when I can do something about it!”

“I don't think you should go, Dashie,” said Pinkie Pie. Everypony just kind of looked at her for a moment, Dash especially. The pegasus' mouth hung open in surprise. “Look, this... thing that Twilight's going through. Zecora explained some of it to me. I didn't get most of it, but the basic gist is... she's dying.” A collective gasp shook the room, and even the guards turned a paler shade of white. Of course, my first thought was “Well, FUCK”. But I didn't say that out loud. Pinkie pressed on. “Somepony needs to stay here and watch her. There's some... stuff you're gonna need to do, and I don't think any of us can do it. Well, maybe. I don't know. Like I said, I don't understand all of it, really. But something's... after Twilight. It's trying to kill her, and from what I can tell it's doing a really good job. We need somepony here to keep her alive. And sane. And you're probably the best for the job. For a few reasons.”

Either they'd never heard her say so many words at once they could actually understand, or the words “She's dying” actually started to sink in. One way or the other, everypony seemed to be getting the basic idea that this was not going to be a grand epic adventure. Rainbow Dash just fell to the ground, slowly, and sunk into her chair with a nod. It took a moment for anypony to say anything, and I was honestly surprised when it was me. “Ok, so who is going?”

Zecora looked around, nodded at a few ponies, and then looked to Pinkie Pie. “Me and Flutters and Zecora, I guess. Applejack and Rarity, I'm super sorry, but there's not a lot you can do. Maybe just try to keep Spike's head above ground? He can't be handling this any better than we are.”

The two mares in question nodded. “Of course,” Rarity said. “We'll keep an eye on little Spikey-Wikey.”

After the little pow-wow we all had, the girls kind of huddled together to discuss the finer points of... whatever the hell they were planning. I found myself just kind of sitting back and watching everything, like usual.

It was starting to become a really annoying pattern. Whenever something major happened, it was always these girls that went off and fixed it. Everypony else just kind of sat side-saddle or did what they were told. Mind you, I'm not exactly jealous of having to face down ravenous monsters and insane gods and beasts from other worlds, but this time, I was kind of involved. And it didn't seem like I was doing much of anything, myself. So I decided to make myself involved.

“Zecora? Is there anything I can be doing? I mean, I know I can't go with them, but... well, I'm kind of involved now. Which I'm guessing you've already figured out.”

She nodded. “Indeed, I had pieced together your plight; I expect these events gave you quite a fright. I understand your need to act... and I have a task for you, matter of fact.”

My ears perked up. A small spark of hope flared in my stomach. Finally, a chance to be proactive about this whole “not losing my mind” thing. “Yeah? What's that?”

“The task I have is of importance most dire; for you, there is no priority higher. Now heed my words, and they will ease your strife; I daresay they may even save your life,” she said, taking a step towards me.

“Y-yes?” I said shakily. Somehow I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be proactive anymore.

She stood muzzle to muzzle with me, and grabbed the back of my head with a hoof. Pulling her mouth to my ear, she said:

“Don't. Go. Home”

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long. Wasn't able to get it proofread, so please forgive a more likely higher error ratio than usual.

Chapter 7

It’s more difficult than you think to find ways to occupy the time when you’re... “forced” out of your house, for lack of a better term. I wandered the streets of Ponyville aimlessly for the first hour or so, mostly trying to piece together the why of my current homelessness. I mean, I wasn’t really homeless. I live in a town full of ponies who are more than happy to at least be seen helping somepony in need.

Zecora hadn’t said much after what might have been the scariest three words I’d ever heard in my whole life, but the general gist was that my house was now basically a hunting ground for, well, me. Apparently I leave a stench behind me. Well, she didn’t say stench, she said something like psychic imprint or whatever, but I was grumpy and fixated on stench. And these… things, or stuff, or whatever it was trying to kill both me and a freaking Princess could use it to stalk us, which is why Twilight was in such deep shit.

You can’t dump that much magic into the world and not attract attention, I suppose.

But back to the wandering. I’d been going around in what I assumed to be circles for about an hour before I decided I should probably walk somewhere. So I started thinking about places I could sleep at night for a while until this… this wore off. If Zecora was right, and I wasn’t willing to bet my everything on her being wrong, I couldn’t go anywhere I’d spent inordinate amounts of time. So that ruled out the other flower shops, Sugarcube Corner, and a few other places. The library was out, since they’d probably be there looking for Twilight, which should also be true of Derpy’s house.

“…luck…”

I thought about calling up an old flame, but that would probably only be good for one night, even if it would keep me extremely distracted, and sleeping really quite brilliantly. Actually, that didn’t seem like a bad idea-

“…Roseluck…”

It took hearing my whole name to get my attention. I turned around, not really seeing anypony that seemed to be focusing on me. I looked side to side, same. And the only ponies in front of me were-

“Roseluck!”

“What?!” I shrieked, jumping straight into the air. And landing in the arms of… Cloudkicker.
She looked at me like I’d grown a new eye. “The heck is the matter with you? I’ve been calling your name for like three minutes!”

I looked at her, then nervously at the ground, which we were slowly approaching, and back. Then
I smiled sheepishly. “Uh… sorry. It’s been a pretty messed up couple of days. Uh, thanks?” I added as she let me down. I set myself down on all four hooves before looking up at her. “I guess I didn’t realize how jumpy I was. What’s up?”

Cloudy landed herself next to me, and we started walking. “Tavi told me you were in the hospital, and something something Twilight Sparkle’s in the ICU? What the hell happened?”

I figured somepony was going to ask, sometime. “Apparently all of the fighting monsters and running around Equestria and freaking ascending requires a few dozen more trips to the hospital than she was allowing herself. Something about not having a checkup the entire time she’s been here finally catching up with her.” It felt weird feeding her the line of bullshit Twilight’s friends were telling everypony else, but considering this seemed to be one of those problems that could spread just knowing about it, I wasn’t exactly opposed to keeping secrets. “Honestly I just think she’s in the ICU instead of a normal room so they can make sure she doesn’t just run out and fight a dragon in the middle of the night.” I coughed a little as my throat ached, but Cloudy didn’t seem to notice.

She seemed to believe it, at least. “Are you kidding? Four years and she never so much as put a thermometer in her mouth? Of course she’s gonna pass out at some point. Lemme guess, she was doing all the checkups herself, thinking she could ‘handle it?’” She didn’t wait for a response, instead going on a big huge rant about Princessly duties and being totally unsafe. With a lot of “What was she thinking?” sprinkled in. Finally, she took a breath. “Hey, look, I’m gonna go talk to Rainbow Dash about who wants to take over Weather Captain duties while she’s on this self-imposed break. Again. Make sure to check in with Tavi and Daisy, ok? They were a little freaked after you passed out the second time.”

“Will do.” I gave her a brief wave as she flew off. Then an idea popped into my head. A bad one. But first I had to find Octavia.

Finding Octavia is either the easiest or hardest thing to do in all of Ponyville, depending on the time of day. Either you can hear her practicing, or arguing, or… something-ing with her roommate, Vinyl, or she’s wandering around town doing Celestia-knows-what to inspire herself. Fortunately, I wasn’t halfway up the private road to their house when I heard what seemed like a nice pleasant bass solo floating down the drive.

It was a rather nice change of pace from the rest of my day to hear such soothing music as I strode up to Philharmonica’s front door. I was even in a pleasant mood when I knocked in tune with the music, and waited patiently for an answer.

Then Octavia opened the door. “Rose! Where the hell have you been?! I went to visit the hospital an hour ago, but they’d said you’d checked out before that, so I went to your house, and Daisy said you weren’t there either, and WHY THE HELL DID YOU PASS OUT, AGAIN?!”

I felt like somepony had stood me in a wind tunnel with a bad attitude for about fifteen seconds. I straightened my- well, everything- and gave Tavi an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I needed to talk to Zecora and a few others, and just kind of wandered around trying to get my head straight. And why didn’t you visit me in the morning?!” I retorted. I wasn’t really mad, but making her think I was usually got her to stop being mad at me.

“W-well…” she stammered, looking a bit guilty. “When you passed out again, of course Daisy and I took you to the hospital, and we stayed for a while, and I dropped by like an hour ago, like I said, but I had a lot of practice to do, and playing music makes me feel better, so I thought… wait, this isn’t about me! What the hell happened?!” Damn. Like I said, usually.

“Nothing much,” I lied. “Just some exhaustion and throat damage from playing Daisy for a while yesterday. How she still has vocal chords amazes me. They really just kept me overnight for observation and stuff. But listen,” I said, trying to lead into what I’m sure was a very bad idea. “There’s some… thing that’s come up with this whole Ditzy Do-Twilight Sparkle thing, and I kinda need a few days away from home for now. The doc says I should take some time off work, which isn’t gonna happen if I’m sleeping five feet from the shop. Do you know anyplace I could-“

“Say no more, we’ll make up a guest room for you,” Tavi interjected.

“I was thinking more like a hotel you could recommend or-“

“Psh, please. Like there’s any hotels in this backwater town I’d subject my friends to. My roommate? Maybe. But no, I won’t hear it, you’ll stay with us. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your house so you can put a few things together. And besides, have you even seen Daisy after you checked out?”

“Um…”

“Rose?” she asked slowly.

“…no?”

“Where the heck have you been I’ve been worried sick about you you’ve been gone all night I was just about to come see you but we had a huge order this morning and we were short-hoofed not that I’m blaming you but you really should have called or something and you passed out again and I swear if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now I’m going to-“

“Daisy! Daisy, it’s ok,” I coughed a little for the yelling as my throat throbs in pain. “Just some scratched throat and exhaustion.”

She took a few deep breaths, and switched gears. “Oh yeah, it was like that when I ran through screaming for the first couple of times. There’s some deep breathing exercises I can show you, and you really should scream from your diaphragm, not your throat, that’s what I do…” she rambled off, answering more questions than I knew I had that day. We hadn’t even gotten into the house before she’d thrown the door open and run out barking mad at me.

When I walked up to the door, though, I stopped, and stared at it for a while.

And I realized right then what it meant to have a house stare back at you.

Author's Note

It's been forever, I know.

Chapter 8

Some ponies say that houses are alive. Like when they talk about haunted houses, evil places, that kind of thing. It was kind of like that. Like the house was alive, kind of, but at the same time… infected. Possessed. Like a parasite had made itself at home and taken over. Because it wasn’t the house staring back at me. It was something else. Something living in my house. Like the foundation and floorboards and walls and ceilings were nothing but a husk filled in by malevolence and intolerant anger.

And yet I got the distinct impression that not only could nopony else notice it, but that it didn’t really even matter to them. The house’s gaze was unwavering, not even noticing my friends or any passerby. I knew if I’d set foot in my own house it would… eat me. Not like chew me up and swallow me, or anything, but I sincerely doubted that I’d make it out.

I’d stopped halfway across the street, just kind of staring at it. Like if I blinked it would change, or get closer, like an evil game of Red Light, Green Light. “Rose, you ok?” Octavia asked, pushing me gently in the shoulder.

“What?” I shook myself out of my reverie, slowly turning my attention to the cellist. My eyes darted back a couple of times to the house, and I could still feel it looming over me. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Listen, I… ok. This is going to sound really weird, and you can’t ask me why, but I can’t go in there right now. I just- I’m gonna go get something to eat. Ok? Ok.” I started to take a few steps towards the center of town before Octavia put a hoof on my shoulder to stop me.

“What in Equestria is the matter with you?! You can’t just run off wherever you please when your friends are trying to help you! Are you crazy?!” Her hoof on my shoulder tensed like she wanted to smack me.

I was still breathing a little heavy when she stopped ranting, so it took me a moment to respond. “Ok, listen. This whole Ditzy-Twilight thing going on? I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… aw, dammit, I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” I muttered, and sighed heavily. “Ok, here goes. You know Twilight’s in the hospital, right?”

Octavia nodded. “And?”

“Well, whatever put her there? That’s the real reason I was in the hospital last night. And it… they, whatever the fuck this is… it’s in that house. I can feel it. It’s staring at me, and if I walk in that front door… I’m pretty sure it’s gonna kill me.” I paused, and closed my eyes, waiting for Octavia to yell at me, or call me crazy, or something.

Then I heard Daisy behind me. “Oh, and you were just gonna let me walk into a haunted freakin house that eats ponies without telling me?!” I turned around to see a rather indignant flowerfilly storming up the front walk to me. “Are you kidding me?! Do you not pay attention during movie night? You never let somepony walk into a haunted house without telling them it’s haunted!”

I had to think about that. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain. I think it’s actually me that’s haunted. Like this thing that’s following me, or whatever. I’m pretty sure it just beat me home, or something. Like, it won’t hurt any of you, but… it’s like it knows me, or has my scent, or something. Look, I don’t know all the rules, or even what this thing… things… stuff is. I talked to Zecora, and she said I shouldn’t go home, or whatever. So I… I just can’t go back in the house. It’s perfectly safe for you girls, but… I need to be somewhere else right now, ok?”

Daisy seemed a little off-put, but conceded. I couldn’t read Octavia, though. Honestly, I didn’t try very hard. I started to walk away again, and this time they didn’t stop me.

I wasn’t really sure how long I’d been walking until I noticed it get dark. At first I thought maybe I’d stumbled into the forest for all my dumb luck, but I looked up and still saw houses. I didn’t really recognize them, but even I haven’t been everywhere in Ponyville. I mean, it has grown a bit over the last few years, anyway. I saw that the sun was starting to set, so I made my way home. Or, at least, to the center of town, from which I could pretty much find any place in Ponyville I wanted. Thank Celestia the center of town is a giant freakin weather pole.

I could see the top of Town Hall from where I was, so I started walking straight towards it. I let my mind wander a bit, just kind of background stuff, like how the hell I was supposed to avoid getting eaten by some other-dimensional werebeast thing with some kind of social disorder. And the fact that I hadn’t really eaten all day. Mostly the beast thing. I shook out of my reverie long enough to try to find a restaurant, so that I could at least focus all of my energy on my more pertinent problems.

All I saw was more houses, though, so it seemed I hadn’t walked quite as far as I’d thought. I could still see the spire, so I knew I was going the right direction. I kept on walking, just kind of lost in my own little world on the way. Mostly my thoughts kept dragging themselves back to what I was going to say to my friends when this was all over, and if they’d believe me. I didn’t know what Octavia was thinking, but I was pretty sure I was gonna hear it later. Like, when I got to her place tonight. I know Daisy wasn’t happy with me, but I think she kind of understood, or at least got that I believed what I said.

Good grief, how far had I walked? I looked up to see the familiar sight of the spire, but for some reason it looked like I hadn’t made any progress. I guessed that it was just a matter of perspective, so I looked around to see if I could find another landmark to walk towards. And that’s when I saw it.

The town spire. On my left.

I turned back to my original orientation, and saw the town hall, off in the distance, like I’d been following. But there it was, on my left.

And my right.

And behind me.

It was then that I noticed that, even with the sun setting and the sky going dark, it was still much harder to see than it should have been. I mean, we have streetlights, and ponies turn light on in their homes at night. But there was nothing here. Just the dim illumination of a darkening sky set behind the outline of the town spire. I could make out the dim outline of houses all around me, but they seemed… fake. Cookie-cutter, even. Like it was the same house, over, and over, and over…

And it started to sink in how absolutely screwed I might be.

I turned to the nearest house, to see if there was at least a door or a window I could throw open so I could hide under the stairs or whatever. There was a front door, but it was… hell, it was weird. Like a perfect door. Exactly what you think you’d see when someone says “Hey, there’s a door there.”

Not wanting to sit in the open for whatever had decided to spirit me away to an abandoned version of Pleasantville, I throw what little caution I have left kicking and screaming into the wind and duck into the house.

At which point I found myself on the front porch of said house. Across the street.

Oh… not good.

Octavia had heard a lot of crazy things before, but none of them quite like that. And certainly not from Roseluck. She may be one of the more dramatic mares the grey earth pony had encountered in her life, but had never really bought into any of the crazy magical shenanigans Ponyville was somehow prone to.

Which made it all that more unsettling. And believable, somehow.

It had been a few hours since Roseluck had wandered off, which was also unlike her. Taking a few moments to breathe was fine, and she was even prone to a faint or two hundred, but Octavia knew the flowermare to never just walk away from a problem. So she decided to go find her friend.

When she went to open her front door, however, it made a sound. As in, somepony knocking on it. Octavia opened the door to see a rather distraught Daisy at her doorstep.

“Roseluck’s gone.”

Author's Note

And we're back! I think I've finally got the ball rolling in a way that I'm really happy with, so there should be more updates soon.

Chapter 9

I stared out at the alley I had just left, stricken with a subtle combination of pain and anger, as though I had just been insulted. It was like the landscape was mocking me, taunting me with the possibility of escape only to fold in on itself and drive the point home that there was no getting out. I looked from right to left, a sense of urgency building inside me bred from the need to see something familiar, something safe.

It wasn’t as if the walls or windows were screaming at me—threatening me. In fact, they were almost placatingly serene in their sameness. Each building looked just like the one next to it. I could see no intersections nor turns in the road from where I was. Towering over the building in front of me was the facsimile of the town center’s spire, and as I glanced left and right on a hunch, I saw the same image in the background of the streets on either side. I knew, with a dreadful certainty, that it was painted onto the backdrop behind me, as well.

Weighing my options, few as they were, I decided to examine the houses themselves. The abrupt realization of my predicament, after crossing the doorway, had instilled a sense of calm, as if part of me had already accepted my circumstances. Either that or the sheer absurdity of my environs had stalled me out long enough to stop and think. Either way, I couldn’t think of much more to do than study my surroundings.

There was something both familiar and alien about the… house. Like I’d seen it before, but it had since been perverted. Apparently it had distorted just enough that I couldn’t quite place where I’d seen it before. The moldings didn’t stand out, and the door—aside from having a very special eject system—looked like every other door. Like if someone had asked me to describe a door, I’d just point at it and say, “Look. See? Door.”

I propped myself up on the windowsill and peeked through the glass and, despite not having any way into the house itself, could see furniture. No lighting, of course, because that would only make my life easy, but there was definitely something in there. The window fogged over with my breath, and I moved a hoof to wipe it clean. Passing my hoof over the glass, I noticed something… different, about the room. It wasn’t obvious at first, but the second time my limb passed over the glass it became more apparent. The furniture. It had moved.

It was creeping closer to the window. I moved my hoof again, just to confirm my suspicions, and sure enough, the couch had shifted, the table was closer, and the desk had scooted just a tad. Like they were all closing around the window in a little circle. I wasn’t entirely fond of finding out what would happen once the woodwork had reached the glass, so I abandoned the window entirely. Landing back on all fours, I turned to get a look at the “house” across the street.

And found myself surrounded by a circle of furniture.

“Hold on, Daisy, what do you mean Roseluck is gone?” Octavia tilted her head at the strange sentence. “I just saw her not four hours ago. How can she be missing?”

Daisy paused for a second, and took a breath. Octavia steadied herself for another heady rant. “Ok, so I saw you guys arguing or whatever when Roseluck freaked out about the house and stuff and decided she couldn’t walk inside or something I couldn’t really hear all of it I was looking through the window but anyway I saw her run off and I was thinking how is she gonna get any sleep without any of her stuff I should pack it up and bring it to her and maybe we could go get something to eat or whatever but anyway I threw all her stuff in a bag and not really all her stuff just like the stuff she packs for overnights or anything and then I chased after her, and I found her walking around just kind of dazed or whatever and I went to catch up with her and she turned a corner down that alley that leads to the bridge to the road to Fluttershy’s house and she disappeared and I ran out around the nearby houses and asked around and nopony’s seen her and I thought maybe she just took off running again cause she’s really stressed and she jogs when she’s stressed so I thought maybe she’s already gotten to Fluttershy’s but Fluttershy hasn’t seen her although I don’t know why she’d go to Fluttershy’s but I haven’t seen her since and I checked like her favorite restaurants and all kinds of stuff and then I thought wait she was gonna crash here and I came down here to see if she was but then I realized she wasn’t here because whenever she visits Vinyl plays music or whatever for her and I know Vinyl’s here cause she just walked up behind you and you’d have said if Roseluck was here when I said she disappeared cause you know that’s kind of obvious so I thought maybe you’d seen her or something and then she’d left to go do something but you said the last time you saw her was hours ago and that’s when you guys had that weird talk or whatever so that didn’t work and I’m actually really close to freaking out or something.”

Octavia glanced sideways at Vinyl, who, as Daisy had said, had walked up beside me, and raised a very concerned eyebrow. The two shared a startled look, at which point the cellist turned to Daisy and said, “Come on Daisy, let’s go look for Roseluck.”

I’d like to think I’m at least as aware as the next pony, but being snuck up on by a coffee table was just plain insulting. I stared around at the furniture, glancing sideways from one piece to the next. It didn’t look any different than the most basic versions of any furniture catalog picture I’d ever seen. I took a solid look at the coffee table, as a point of reference. It was very nondescript, a solid piece of wood made out of a single solid piece.

I dismissed it as unhelpful and turned to the desk. Which was now distinctly closer than it was when I turned around the first time.

I backed up against the wall, making a point to keep all the pieces in my line of sight. At that point, a mildly crazy thought ran through my head. Keeping my eyes on the living room setup that obviously hadn’t been built out of a respect for personal space, I edged my way along the wall until I could feel the door. I didn’t even bother opening it properly, I just bucked the thing open, and backed the hell up.

The last look I got at the Desk of Space Invasion was right before I slammed the door on the lot of it.

The trio of mares had made their way to the last spot Daisy had seen Roseluck, and glanced around. It was an intersection of a few residential houses and a coffee shop. After a few interviews and some snooping, they’d come up with absolutely nothing. No one had seen Roseluck after Daisy had watched her turn a corner.

Octavia was just about to give up when she saw Daisy sniffing about on the other side of one of the houses. “Daisy, what are you doing?”

“Well, I was thinking about where I saw her go, like maybe I got the intersection wrong or something? Cause I didn’t remember the coffee shop being right there. Like, I know it doesn’t make sense, but you see this crack right here?” Daisy gestured to a space of mere inches between the house at the corner and the one next to it. Octavia nodded as Vinyl came up to join the conversation.

“Yeah, so?” Vinyl asked. Daisy nodded at it. “Wait, are you saying she disappeared in there? How the hell is that possible? I mean, she ain’t fat, but that is one skinny hole, come on.”

“Trust me, she’s in there.” All three of them jumped as a voice chimed in. They turned around all at once to see Ditzy Do joining them. The grey mare was staring at the hole between the buildings like it was more important than anything else around her.

And as the other three mares stared between her and the gap, they saw that Ditzy was staring at it with both eyes.

The door slammed shut with a rather satisfying thud, and I turned to stare at what I was sure was going to be the alley again. I was even ready for another staring match with furniture if I had to.

I was not, however, ready for the inside of my own house.

Chapter 10

“Don’t. Go. Home.” Zecora’s words resonated in my head like an air raid siren, as the familiar landscape of my own home splayed out before me. I couldn’t honestly say, however, that it was comforting.

It was like all the personal detail had been stripped bare. The furniture was dull and lifeless, the light that shone through the windows was gray and coldly efficient. The layout was just like my living room, my kitchen. Everything was where it was supposed to be. Yet it all looked like the most generic, uninspired version of itself possible. Not even the pictures in the frames had any personal touch. Just pictures of me and my roommate, Daisy, standing, staring at the camera. No expressions, no poise. Not even a background.

“You’re not all going to move around on me, are you?” I asked the empty room, as if the furniture might be hiding some sinister intent. Which wouldn’t surprise me at all right now. I wandered cautiously past a few pieces: my couch, the end tables, the chair. Nothing jumped out at me, nothing tried to eat me or say mean things about my mother. I’d even made it to the doorway of the stairwell just fine. I turned quietly but quickly to see if any of the furniture had moved on its own again.

It hadn’t, but something else was amiss. I couldn’t place my hoof on it. Something was… wrong. Something was missing. All the furniture was there. The chair. End table. Couch. Even the pictures were still… wait. I stopped as I looked at the pictures, and moved closer to inspect them. It was like someone had smudged our faces slightly. The lines between us and the background, the space between our eyes and the rest of our faces, it was all blurred together. And more than a little creepy.

I turned once again, more than a little bothered by the photo, to try and figure out the rest of the room. It wasn’t difficult this time, as the unnerving quality that had perplexed me seconds before was now distinctly apparent. It was like the photographs; the entire layout was becoming less distinct. The furniture was blurred so fluidly that I couldn’t tell if it even still had contours, or a place to sit. Not that I was in the mood to, now.

I crept over to an end table, and gave it a gentle prod with my hoof. At this point it looked like a simple block of wood, with indeterminate edges. And it felt… oily? Even as I pulled my hoof away, it looked like some of the table had somehow rubbed off on me. Almost like… “Paint,” I concluded out loud. The entire room was like a painting slowly melting away.

And Celestia knows what would happen when there wasn’t any room left.

Octavia and Vinyl gave each other a knowing glance. Daisy asked, “Ok, if she’s in there, how the buck do we get her out?”

Ditzy shook her head, still staring at the gap. “I don’t think we can. I mean, not like you’re thinking. I think. We can’t follow her in there, if that’s what you mean.”

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “Oh good. For a second I thought we were gonna go all Harry Trotter on this thing.” Octavia stifled a laugh behind her hoof.

Then Ditzy rounded on them both. An eye locked on each of them, she said, “Do you even know what’s wrong with your friend? It’s the same thing that just put an alicorn princess in the hospital, and is killing her. Twilight’s got her friends on some fantastic mission trying to save her life, dredging through an alternate reality of absolute hell. So who does Roseluck have to save her, huh? Because it sounds like she sure as buck can’t count on you.”

The musicians dipped their heads in shame, having to be told off by Ditzy of all ponies. Daisy stepped forward in their silence. “So what can we do?”

The gray pegasus looked quietly at Daisy, then spoke up, a bit of her usual bubbliness showing through a Daisy’s initiative to help her friend. “Why, we show her the way home, of course!” explained Ditzy.

I thought a bit about how to get out of the Rorschach Test from Tartarus, careful not to turn around or take my eyes off the surroundings. It didn’t seem like they deteriorated as long as I kept my eyes on them.

Well, at first. Then I realized it was like watching paint dry. Literally. I noticed a small crack developing in the corner of one of the couches as I stared blankly at the setting, mainly because it was so distinct, so detailed compared to the washed-away mess of everything else. It started small, like a pencil being dragged lazily over canvas. It branched out, spreading throughout the space where the bottom ruffle would be as if it were a tree spreading roots at an unnatural pace. Of course, nothing was natural here.

I looked away, trying to find something else to focus on, when I realized all of the rest of the settings were doing the same thing. The end table looked like a crumbling boulder, the now-empty picture frames like ancient papyrus finally falling apart. Yet none of it crumbled, or broke apart. Like the cracks and spider-webbing on the surface was just that, a surface thing.

Yet again, a morbid sense of curiosity overcame me. I noticed in that moment, that for some reason I hadn’t run off screaming, or tried to climb the walls, when I was obviously either losing my mind or in some very deep extradimensional shit. I couldn’t explain it. The panic was there, obviously, but it was like it was being muted. All of my other emotions and senses seemed to work fine, but for some reason, possibly the fact that nothing had actually physically happened to me, just my surroundings, I didn’t feel the need to tear down the street screaming like I had earlier.

Which just worried me more.

I was pulled out of my reverie by something I hadn’t realized had been almost completely absent until now. A sound. Up until this slight crackling noise presented itself, there hadn’t been a peep. Like a silent horror movie had been playing out in slow motion in front of me. But there it was, a small, crickly-crackly sound, making its way around the room. It occurred to me that it must be the sound of the cracks in the furniture, and now, the walls, when my curiosity finally got the better of me. I reached up to paw gently at the couch, to see if maybe it would crumble away, or if I would merely take a layer of… whatever I was seeing off.

I felt a slight sticky feeling on my hoof as I lifted it, and glanced at it to see some white flakes had stuck to it, presumably from the floor. I looked down, and confirmed my suspicions, as I saw, where there once was a blurry, washed gray, was now a small hole in the empty facade, through which I could see dilapidated hardwood. It seemed almost vibrant in contrast to its surroundings, so much so that I rather preferred it. I dug at the hole some more, revealing with relative ease more of the same flooring, with its own cracks, and holes, and spaces between the floorboards. In fact, the “paint” came up so easily I felt as if I could blow it off.

I took a deep breath, and blew softly on the floor, watching with mild triumph as more of the surface gray gave way to the more firm reality underneath.

My sense of accomplishment was overshadowed, however, as I noticed that the slight breath I had given was somehow still going. Even growing. It broiled and tumbled around the room, gaining pace and force like I’d opened a floodgate, until the gale itself had torn away the rest of the dull edifice.

And suddenly I wanted the blurry paint back.

Ditzy and Daisy were busy chatting about possible things they could to to help Roseluck find her way back. So far they’d come up with rolling a ball of string into the crack, shining a light in, or playing some music for her to follow.

Octavia, not keen on being second string to helping somepony in need, considered these options. “Well, even if she did see or hear any of these things, what’s to say she’d know to follow them? She could be seeing anything in… there.” She gestured to the space they had been contemplating to punctuate her statement.

Vinyl pitched in, if only to have something to say. “Yeah, I mean, music would work for me and Tavi, cause we’d follow a good tune anywhere. And, I mean, maybe string might work for you, Der-Ditzy, but she might be like, in a world of string right now.”

Daisy looked at her like she’d lost brain cells just listening to that. “A world. Of string.”

The DJ shrugged.

Ditzy, somehow seeing the logic in that statement, nodded. “Yeah, we’d need something she would definitely follow. Like, something she couldn’t ignore.”

Perking up, Daisy jumped up and down. “Ooh, ooh, we could leave her flowers!”

Vinyl winced. “Dude, she’s not dead yet. I think.”

“I should smack you for that,” grumbled Octavia. Instead, she turned her attention to the florist. “I see what you mean, Daisy. I don’t think Roseluck would be able to ignore a trail of flowers, or better yet, rose petals. So why don’t we go get some?”

Before anyone could nod their agreement, a loud roar of wind tore out of the gap, bringing with it a flurry of white flakes, and a despairing wave of cold.

“We might want to hurry,” mused Daisy, as the group took off for the flower stands.

Chapter 11

I recoiled as the empty facade fell away to the howling winds to reveal the reality I’d been standing in. Flakes of blank white gave way to angry, blistering deadwood; boils and weakly pulsing veins stretched across plywood and rafters. I pulled my hooves away as the ashen paint stripped away in the gale like dust, revealing almost fleshy carpet and hardwood. As if the entirety of my home had turned into a sickly, dying thing underneath me. I scrambled to the side as I noticed the heavy, slow pulse resonating through my hooves, only to realize I couldn’t escape the very floor beneath me.

Shuddering, and ashamedly repulsed by my own home, I cast a hesitant glance at the furniture. I immediately wished I hadn’t as the last of the paint fell away, drawing my gaze to what now was a throbbing, unidentifiable organ where my couch used to be. It curled in, folded into a meaty shelf as if trying to imitate the couch whose space it had usurped.

It didn’t take me long to notice that although the furniture and the walls were now fleshy, diseased shadows of their former selves, the rest of the house had become more than a fatal organism. Where the windows once sat in the wall were now metal clamps; large square spiky contraptions that dug into the wall, piercing the helpless tissue as it trickled blood. An unhealthy shade of green pooled in the corner where floor met wall beneath the malicious contraptions.

The doors were similarly fashioned, yet still somehow functioned as doors. Large metal slats with handles were punched into the living walls as vicious metal claws victimized its surroundings to hold itself in place. I shuddered at the thought of what lie beyond them. Unfortunately, unless I wanted to stay in this cancerous mirror of my living room, I would have to go through one of these doors.

Besides their placement in the room, the doors themselves were identical; emotionless, intimidating slats of gray steel (assuming it was an identifiable metal in the first place) held in place by those torturous clamps. I noticed the same pooling green liquid underneath the doors, as well.

I glanced behind me to see if the front door was like the others, only to find that, somehow, it had disappeared entirely. I wasn’t surprised, somehow, but had noticed that my previous lack of apprehension, and my strange sense of curiosity, had been driven forcefully out of my mind. Replaced by repulsion, nausea, and an otherwordly fear that, were I in the presence of mind to process objectively, should have been present from the start. It was as if the… whatever it was that held me here had been viciously clamping down on my emotions like bars on the walls of my mind, suppressing my innate instinct to flee danger until it could be sure I didn’t have the option anymore.

Destructive emotions battled within me as my natural repulsion to the deathly flesh battled my paralytic fear of what could be worse than this, as I scrambled back and forth trying to decide whether or not to leave the room or stay and see what would become of my home next. I noticed as I paced frantically that the floor made squicky, gushy sounds beneath my hooves, and I felt some kind of sticky gunk come away with each step.

Eventually I had had enough of this tortured place, my revulsion overtaking me as I squished my way to the nearest door: the kitchen. I stared at the door for half a second, trying to decide if I should shove or tug it open, and wondering if I had the strength to do so, when I noticed the sound of clicking gears and grinding metal, barely making itself audible over the heavy, weakening pulse on the air. The door dragged itself open, swinging away from me, and I noticed that the spikes even extended underneath it, digging deep, gashing wounds into the floor below. I tried not to stare and the helpless flesh, almost feeling sorry for it amidst my disgust, when I noticed that the flesh was not, in fact, the entirety of the floor. Beneath maybe an inch or two of sickly flesh lie a layer of gears and cogs, a malicious machine upon which grew its victim. Not wanting to think about the implications of such a device, I looked up to my now-open kitchen door.

I let out a small gasp as my hoof flew to my mouth in horror.

The girls scrambled to the flower stands, chattering desperately among themselves as they tried to find Rose’s namesake flowers, a frenzy of hooves and a torrent of manic prattle until Daisy pulled out a bouquet on her roommate’s cart tagged for delivery. “I got it!” She shouted. The other girls turned their heads and smiled in relief, as their rather tenuous plan gave them some hope, and the sight and smell of the roses reminded them of their friend.

As the girls scrambled back to the alley, Vinyl paused for a moment, a familiar sensation stopping her in her tracks. She felt a pulsing beneath her hooves, like a distorted bass line, and stared in the direction of the beat. A chill ran down her spine as her eyes fell on Rose’s house, and she ran after the girls as if to escape the implications.

When they finally collected around the gap down which Ditzy assured them Rose had disappeared, Octavia raised a rather pointed question. “Ok, what now?”

Ditzy seemed to think about this for a second. “Well, we could just throw it in?”

“I dunno if that would work,” said Vinyl. “I mean, it could just land somewhere in a corner, and maybe she’d never see it?”

The girls mused this for a second. Then Daisy said, “What if we throw them in one at a time?”

Octavia shook her head. “No, it would be like we threw them in all at once, I think. They’d all just show up in the same spot. I think we need a way to make sure they spread out. Ditzy, maybe if you flapped your wings? Maybe we should just throw the petals in, and leave the stems. Then Ditzy could blow them in with a breeze.”

The girls seemed to circle in on this idea, as Ditzy jumped into the air. Flapping her wings excitedly, she saluted mid-flight. “Count on me!”

Vinyl spoke up again, asking, “So do we just tear them off and throw them in the air or whatever?” Her question was immediately met with a smack to the back of her head from the cellist.

Octavia grumbled tiredly, “You. Are. A. Unicorn.”

“Oh, right,” the DJ smiled sheepishly. She then proceeded to pluck the petals from the stems in a wave of blue magic, hovering them in the air in front of Ditzy.

The pegasus gave a hearty flap, as the petals caught the wind and seemed to eagerly dance into the gap, as if more than Ditzy’s wings were guiding them.

“Let’s just hope it’s enough,” Daisy muttered.

It was too much, I think. My kitchen, normally full of life and laughter, had become a prison. Almost a torture chamber for everything that once flourished there. The pots I kept my flowers in had become black metal cages for overgrown, tortured vines and dead petals. Thin, cute daisies had become engorged, bleeding things pulsing against the edges of their cell. Vibrant roses strangled themselves, tangled in horrendous messes around spikes and razor edges, somehow holding together even as they choked the life out of themselves on unforgiving steel.

My pots and pans had been replaced with shears and sickles, my sink now a trough of plant corpses. My fridge was now a latched metal box, covered in chains and padlocks, from within which echoed the dying screeches of some helpless thing.

I felt dizzy. Helpless. Blood drained from my face and my hooves grew weak. If I couldn’t even turn to my special talent to find light in this hellhole, what could I-

My sense of defeat was put on hold as a familiar smell broke through the putrid decaying odour of the rooms. I felt a gentle breeze, and smelled, of all things, roses on the air. I looked around, and saw a wave of petals pour in from the stairwell on the side of the kitchen. They wafted on the air gently before falling to the ground. I noticed with some remaining sense of sorrow that the petals were all shriveled, dead, as they alighted on the fleshy floor. One petal, however, caught my attention, as it drifted in front of my face. It wafted gently before lighting on my nose, and I saw that it had some life in it. It shriveled and died like the rest, but somehow, that one petal felt… real.

I felt the emptiness of the room around me sink in as if some kind of veil was being lifted. As I stared at the dead petal, focused on it, the fleshy walls around me seemed to give way to something else. Like an illusion giving way. It gave me a sense of relief and the thought that maybe I wasn’t truly trapped lit a beacon of hope somewhere in me.

That is, until the house screamed.

Chapter 12 (End)

Chapter 12

Have you ever heard a house groan? That old creaking sound that makes you think, or reminds you, that you’re not alone at night? The sound of old wood warping against itself under the weight of its own presence?

A scream is nothing like that. It’s the culmination of every argument; every cry of anguish these walls have ever heard. Every sentence that is broken by anger, every wild thought as you walk away, slamming the door behind you. Thousands of harsh words and hateful things, some my own, some I didn’t even recognize, shattering on the air like a rock through stained glass. Each echo from each corner a different conversation, cranked to unbearable volume, as what passed for a house screamed in protest against my having any kind of hope.

“Please,” I groaned, twitching an ear at the verbal abuse, “I live with Daisy. You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?

I saw, even felt, parts of the house curdle and curl towards me. Chair legs and lampstands, curtain rods and window panes, every part of everything it had tried to pass off as fake, then pale, then horrid, reach out towards me, grasping at what was thankfully thin air as I hauled flank up the trail of dead rose petals. I followed twists and turns that didn’t exist in my own house, but I was far past the illusion that I was anywhere that resembled home. I ducked and dodged well enough to make a Pegasus proud, until I came to what looked like the finish line: a point where two walls narrowed into a small gap, but didn’t close. Part of me wanted to come to a screeching halt, the other part still had ears and other senses that were rather insistently reminding me that the house was trying to eat me.

So, I kept running. I saw petals fly out of the crack, and wither on the air, lasting just long enough to rekindle the hope the house so sought to punish me for. And, as is natural in these situations, or so popular fiction has taught me to believe, I tripped on something. Sparing a glance back, I see a fleshy, decaying vine that extended past the last doorway I’d ignored, wrapped around my ankle, and intent on pulling me back. Even as it dragged me slowly across what I really, really wanted to believe was just wet carpet, it murmured. Somehow, it was loud enough to hear over the cacophony of spiteful words, “Feed. Eat. Hunger…”

I don’t know if I’d somehow become desensitized to the horrors around me, or if it had simply run out of ways to surprise me, but I was more angry, and rather, incensed, than afraid. “You might look like some dead flesh, but I know a vine when I see one, and Momma’s Hungry!” I reached out with the rest of my hooves, and pulled the vine up close like a horrid snuggle buddy before tearing a huge chunk out with my teeth.

It tasted like blood and bad decisions. Not bad enough, as the vine recoiled and shrieked its way back into the room of Celestia-knows-what. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out what, and turned around, running for the crack. Diving into that small space felt an awful lot like losing consciousness, however, I quickly realized that’s just what I was doing.

I awoke to a familiar sight: a hospital bed. Actually, the same hospital bed that I’d woken up in earlier in the week. Of course, the contents were a little different: it included more ponies than last time. My roommate, Daisy, leaning over the metal guard on my left, looked about as concerned as she always does, which was no small comfort. Octavia and Vinyl simply stood at the edge of the bed, sharing the same concerned look, but showing some relief at the fact that I’d woken up. Even Der… Ditzy had come to visit. She was sitting by the window, staring happily into space. Her normally endearing lazy eye had lost some its charm due to recent events, obviously, but it was still wonderful to see her.

Well, until the headache kicked in. “Ow, oh god. Ow. What happened to my… everything?” Even my throat hurt. Which made sense, given how I hadn’t technically been out of the hospital for more than a couple days after making it bleed in the first place.

Vinyl raised an eyebrow over her rather large glasses, which in and of itself was an impressive feat. “That’s kinda what happens when you scream yourself stupid and pass out onto a coffee table,” she explained with no lack of snark. “I mean, you kinda put Daisy to shame.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at her roommate’s lack of tact, something I was more than amicable to considering the circumstances. “What she means to say is, dear, you ran screaming into your house, and passed out onto the floor. You hit your head on the way down, and you’ve been here for the last few days.”

“Few days? What? I’ve been running the gauntlet through Tartarus for the last few days. I mean, did Twilight come back? How did I get out of that hell house? I mean, where did you guys even find me? I was running through a bunch of back alleys, and…”

I was interrupted by Octavia raising a hoof to shush me. “Rose, you’re starting to sound like Daisy-“

“Hey!”

“-sorry. What I mean is, you’ve probably been having a pretty nasty nightmare given the circumstances. Whatever you saw scared you so bad you screamed yourself into a three-day coma. You really shouldn’t even be talking,” she added gently, as I started coughing. All that ranting, and I had forgotten about the damage I’d done to my esophagus.

“But… I tasted blood, it was-“

“Probably from the blood in your throat that they had to suction out,” interrupted Daisy. “I mean, the nurses had to clean you and… stuff… so you probably felt a bunch of weird things in that awful dream. Like, what did you even see, anyway?”

I stole a glance over to Ditzy, whose expression was all the confirmation I needed that at least I hadn’t imagined all of it. “Well, probably the same thing Princess Twilight did. I mean, she got really scared, too, but she didn’t go anywhere, I don’t think.”

Vinyl gave the Pegasus a sideways glance. “We really don’t want to know, do we?”

”No, not really. I’d offer you a muffin but they won’t let me bring outside food into Intensive Care. When you’re in a regular bed I can bring you all the muffins you can eat! Which might not be many cause of your throat,” she added sheepishly.

I muddled their explanations around in my head, and it all made sense. Too much sense, actually. It explained everything. Of course it was a dream. I mean, I could probably ask them about anything, and they’d have a good answer for it. Except…

“What about Zecora? I saw her in my ‘dream’, too. And she explained a lot of stuff I’m pretty sure my subconscious wouldn’t have drummed up on its own. Plus, she didn’t rhyme the entire time. I think even in my dreams she’d find a way to rhyme everything. Even oranges,” I said, with no lack of doubt.

The girls all looked at each other, then Daisy sighed, dipping her head to her chest. “Oh, Rose, come on. Why can’t you just leave it alone? You’re fine. You just need some rest.”

Vinyl nodded, “Yeah, you just need to relax a bit. Get some rest, drink some water, watch some por-“ Octavia smacked her in the head. “Watch some TEE VEE or something.”

I shook my head. It still hurt, but it didn’t feel anything like knocking my head on a table. More like someone had scratched at it from the inside. “No way. I’ve gotta get out. Find Twilight or Zecora or somepony. There’s way too much work to do. I mean, even if it was a dream, there’s still something out there!”

I tried to raise myself from the bed, but Derpy stopped me, leaning on my chest with both her front hooves. “Why? Why do you have to do it? Just leave it to Twilight’s friends or the Princesses or whatever?”

“Because I’ve seen these things! You have too, Derpy! We should be doing something to help, not ignoring it with TV and bedrest!”

Her head dipped, her face disappearing behind her mane. “Why… why… why why why WhY why why WHY why whY Why WHY COULDN”T YOU LEAVE IT ALONE?!” she screamed, shrieked, bellowed at me, raising her muzzle to meet mine, even as it split open from top to bottom. It tore itself open, revealing Vinyl’s face. Then it melted apart, falling off in pieces, to unmask Octavia, who disappeared in a puff of gray smoke to turn into Daisy.

More screaming, then darkness.

I woke up again. Dark. Not pitch. Just dim. I was in the alley again. And again, I was surrounded by Tavi, Vinyl, Daisy, and Ditzy. All of whom looked distinctly more concerned than their hallucinatory counterparts. “Uh… is she dead?” Vinyl asked. She nudged me with a hoof, just to make sure.

“I’ll eat it, I swear to the sun,” I grumbled, aching all over. Bending through time and space, I assume, makes a pony sore in places they don’t even have yet.

“Oh yeah, she’s fine,” the DJ grinned at me, then offered a hoof to pull me up.

Once on all four hooves, I took a step back. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t backing into that crack again. I noticed, with some relief, that I was in the middle of a normal street, and not some back alley full of nightmares. “Ok, ok. How do I know this part is real? I mean, I’ve seen some stuff, you guys. Like, I don’t trust jack all right now.” Octavia gave me a look usually reserved for her roommate, and smacked me in the head. “OW! Ok, ok, you’re real. Sweet Celestia.”

Ditzy waved a wing at me. “Ok, um, we need to leave. Like, now.”

I didn’t want to hang around long enough to find out why.

I know it isn’t kosher, but I want to fast forward a few days. To say that nothing happened would be an optimistic lie, but in comparison to the events of the first few days, it was rather tame. We all ended up staying in Vinyl’s place, far away from the town. It wasn’t until we heard the celebration of Princess Twilight coming home that we decided it was safe to sleep in our own homes. They wouldn’t go into detail on what happened, and given my own experiences, I didn’t blame them.

We were all at the town wide party, courtesy of Pinkie Pie, sitting around a table with Twilight and her friends, sharing our own experiences. We talked about things that most of the other ponies in town wouldn’t have understood, building a kind of camaraderie around surviving whatever the hell it was that had decided to torture us for so long.

“So you were trapped in a living, like dead house or whatever?! Bleeehhhhh….” Exclaimed Rainbow Dash. She shook from tip to hoof in disgust. “That’s just… I mean we saw some weird junk, but that’s just wrong.”

Twilight shook her head. “It seems to be a common theme with these things. Death and disease seems to follow them around.”

“Either that or they drag it with them,” Spike offered.

The Princess raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s… not a comforting thought, Spike.”

He looked up at his caretaker with a mouthful of cupcake. He swallowed loudly, and retorted, “Oh, and everything from the last week was?”

I giggled at him. “Oh, for sure. It was like a warm fuzzy blanket of regret.”

I got a laugh out of that from almost everypony. It was kind of a warm, fuzzy feeling, actually, compared to everything else. I spared a glance around the table in sentiment, when I noticed something unnerving. Ditzy was looking at me, smiling. With both eyes. “Uh, Ditzy? Wha-“

She looked confused for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, yeah! I haven’t seen them since Twilight got back! So I don’t have to look around for ‘em anymore! Also, I totally forgot-“ she said, pulling out an enormous basket from under the table. “I promised you muffins!”

I sighed in relief, and reached for the basket. My hoof bumped into Vinyl’s as we reached for the same pumpkin muffin, and I smiled sideways at her. She grinned back, meeting my gaze.

With only one eye. The other was looking at the basket of muffins. Or, rather, on top of it.

Chapter 1

Now, living in Ponyville as I do, and being basically neighbors with the Elements of Harmony, you learn to discern little things about the ponies that continuously save your flanks. For example, if Rarity were to scream right now, it would be pretty easy to judge based on intensity whether or not she was being dramatic, or a basilisk was about to bite her head off.

Twilight Sparkle is similar. She has a few occasions where she’ll scream, but it’s more out of frustration than anything else. Other times she’s just freaked out because, well, she is friends with Pinkie Pie. But that scream? That was something new. I’d never heard her yell out like that before. Except once.

Discord can do that to you.

So I, being the ever-faithful neighbor that I am, ran outside to see what the hell I should be running back inside from. I told Daisy to stay put, for all the good it would do, and ran outside. I didn’t hear Twilight scream again, so I just ran for her house.

It seemed I wasn’t the only pony to do so, either. Half the town was gathered around the library by the time I got there. To be fair, it’s not a big town, but it’s not a big library either. So being able to see what the hell was going on was kind of hard. There was a lot of murmuring and pointing, which was normal. My first thought was that our resident princess had gone and fucked up something magical. Again. It wasn’t until I actually stopped to listen, though, that I could piece any of it together.

“...is she ok?”

“...never seen her twitch like that...”

“Is that Derpy? What is she...”

I didn’t listen to any more. Der… Ditzy Do is a friend of mine. So I made a point to barrel my way through the crowd. Or, rather, just kind of nudge between a bunch of ponies that weren’t that invested in where they were standing in the first place. The crowd let me through for the most part. Then I got to the front of the pack, and couldn’t see anything past the Elements themselves. I also knew better than to try to force my way past all of them, especially Rainbow Dash or Applejack. I noticed that I was just inside the library at this point, so I just kind of edged around the side of the room until I could see the middle of the crowd.

What I saw wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I’d never seen Twilight so... pale. Her friends were gathered around her, or at least making a wall between her and the rest of the crowd. Ditzy Do was standing off to the side a little, just kind of sad looking. Over all the hushed commotion I could hear her muttering, “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m just... sorry.”

There was a gap in the crowd on this side, or, more accurately, no crowd. So I slowly made my way over to stand beside Ditzy Do. I wanted to ask what happened, but something told me that’s not a conversation she wanted to have. It was at that point I noticed all the looks she was getting. It wasn’t like she usually gets. As much as I liked her, and she was my friend, there were times when I could understand some of the looks she gets. The pity, or... not really scorn, just disappointment. The kind of looks you get for causing thousands in property damage or hospitalizing somepony.

But this, this was new. This was fear, not loathing. But you could see loathing from here. I honestly couldn’t imagine what she might have done. Or what it was they thought she did. So I put myself between her and the Elements. Not saying anything, just kind of maneuvering between her and them.

They noticed, of course. Applejack stepped forward from the line of ponies between Twilight and the crowd outside, challenging my presence. “What do you think yer doing, Rose? We got a few choice words to pick with yer friend.”

“Look, I have no idea what’s going on here, but you all look something close to murder. So I’m just gonna stand here till everypony clears off,” I explain. I’m still thoroughly confused as to the situation, but I’m also relatively calm. Something tells me I wouldn’t be if I knew what had happened, but I do my best to ignore that pesky little voice.

Ditzy says something behind me, but I don’t catch it, because at that moment Rainbow is in my face. “Outta the way, Rose. We need to know just what Derpy did!”

The next voice to make itself heard surprised me. Not because it was Twilight, but because I didn’t recognize it as her at first. “No... she... didn’t do anything. Not... her. It. I... what was that?” She didn’t seem to be talking to anypony in particular, more like she was just reacting to whatever she heard on reflex.

“What do you mean, ‘She didn’t do anything’?!” Rainbow yelled. “Look at you! You’re a mess!”

This time Rarity spoke up. “Rainbow! Please, have a little tact!” She then turned her attention to Twilight, her gaze softening from a cold scolding glare to a comforting smile. “Dear, please do tell us what it is that happened. You’re obviously in a state.”

At this point at least half the crowd had lost interest, seeing as how there wasn’t any immediate threat. I’m not sure why I was sticking around, aside from protecting Ditzy. It wasn’t even really a solid excuse. I guess just curiosity, at that point. But what Twilight said next still sticks with me:

“There was a... thing? I don’t know. It had teeth. I remember the teeth. And... eyes? I... I don’t remember eyes or... do I? Why can’t I remember... there were teeth... I saw... something. Something... teeth.” She was rambling, I could tell. I think she could, too, because she kept pausing like she was trying to stop, and then more words would fall out. She actually said more after that, but it was in such a low murmur that I only really registered she was talking because I could still see her lips move. Her friends crowded around her, all but ignoring me now.

I took the opportunity to turn to Ditzy. I’d noticed that the rest of the crowd had meandered off, either to get away from the pale, rambling princess, or because they’d merely lost interest. I imagine some of them were shooed away by the more assertive members of Twilight’s circle of friends.

I turned to Derpy to ask her what had happened. Before I even got the words out, though, she looked up at me and said, “I’m sorry. She really shouldn’t have looked. I told her not to.” She got quiet after that, and just kind of wandered off, brushing past me weakly. I didn’t feel like trying to stop her, or rather, I felt like I shouldn’t. Her wings drooped a bit, permeating a bit of sadness, but with her face turned away it was hard to figure out exactly what was going through her mind. She certainly looked sad enough when she spoke to me. I gave one last glance back to the Elements, who were more absorbed in comforting their friend than worrying about us, which I could understand. Then I trotted after the grey pegasus.

“Derpy, wait up!”