Amnesia - A Pony Crossover

by Sorren

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Dark
Length: 1510

Ponies and Amnesia, please don't hate me.

Playing Amnesia for five hours straight in the dead of night is not good for you. Wriitng a fic after that, is absolutely insane. This is a one shot crossover of marshmallow ponies with our favorite mind-frying horror game.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-04-02 10:44:02 UTC

Chapter 1

Amnesia – A Pony Crossover

By: Sorren

You walk down the narrow passage. There is no other light apart from that of your lantern. The yellow light it cast shines dully upon the damp stone walls as you progress onwards. The darkness seems impenetrable. Your circle of light only manages to travel about ten feet ahead into the gloom before being drawn into non-existence by the choking darkness.

Right now, the light is the only thing keeping you sane. You can feel a dull throbbing in your head. Without the light, the darkness would have consumed you long ago. But the light is dangerous. Too much time in the light and you were done for; they would find you. Despite the heat radiating form the oil lantern, the handle in your mouth feels cold. You try to keep your tongue off it, to both avoid the metallic taste, and the uncomfortable chill.

You can hear your hoofsteps in the stone passage. You stop, listening for something you previously thought you heard. There had been other hoofsteps, masked by yours. You start forward again, cautiously. The sound of hoofsteps from behind matches yours almost perfectly. The only way you can tell them apart from yours is the second reverberation of the sound from the solid walls. You jump around and bring forth your lantern, bathing the passage behind in yellow light. There is nothing there. You hear the familiar sound of bugs and a wet crackling. This is in your mind; you are sure of it.

Your lantern flickers, informing you of its greedy thirst for oil. You wish you could scold the lantern for its consumptive hunger for your precious oil. But the lantern is your friend, possibly the only thing in this Celestia forsaken place that might be on your side. But it did try to kill you; with its precious light it would draw the monsters. And with the monsters, came most certain death. There was no way to kill them. Only run. Run and try to put as many doors, and preferably, continents between you and them as possible.

Usually, there was no more than one, and thank the moon for that. You hear a scream from a chamber below. This was the fourth time. You know you aren’t the only one, or thing, in this castle, but it sure does feel like it. There is a door ahead on your left. You reach it and grasp the metal rung in your mouth. With very little effort, the door swings open. You step inside, examining the room. In one corner is an upturned bed, in the other, a shelf stocked with all sorts of nonsense. Instinctually, you shut the door in your wake. You ignore the bed, instead trotting over to the shelf. There are a few books, but your eyes fall on the real prize, a bottle of oil and two tinderboxes. It was by sheer luck that these things were scattered all around the castle.

You freeze at the sound of hoofsteps in the passage behind. As quickly and quietly as you can, you snuff the lantern and crouch low to the ground. The shuffling grows closer and you hear a guttural moan outside. You don’t dare move, fear that it will find you and come crashing through the door surging through every part of your brain. The room around you begins to squirm, the normally square edges becoming rounded and blurry. You cling desperately for a thought to keep you inside yourself. If your brain were to go now, you would be a goner. Seeing no other option, you light the lantern again. You let out a sigh of relief at the wash of yellow light that fills the room.

A strong draft circles the room sending patches of scrolls and parchment fluttering around the small space. You walk over to the bed, intent to look for more supplies. Finding nothing, you turn around. Every muscle in your body freezes. There in front of you, standing where you had been just moments before, is one of them. Its misshapen darkness-whitened body gleams sickeningly in your lantern light. The shape was still that of a pony.  But everything else it possessed was malformed in the most terrifying and unimaginable way possible. The face was all wrong. It’s lower jaw had been disconnected and now hung below its head, connected by the stretched flesh of its face. The limbs were ragged yet muscular. Its belly was swollen and distilled while the rest of its deformed body looked starved.

You inhale deeply, preparing a scream as you back into the wall. It takes a step forward and you raise your lantern in a desperate attempt at self-defense. Without a sound the creature disappears, leaving nothing in its wake but a lingering cloud of light brown dust.

You manage to strangle the scream, but your breathing quickens. Something vital in your mind drops and all knowledgeable thought is lost. The lantern is your friend. Light is your friend. The features of the room start to go red as you feel yourself begin to hyperventilate. They were out there. You knew they were out there. But they were also in here. You choke down another scream and bolt for the door.

You drive your head into it, ignoring the pain, and charge out into the dark passage. The lantern swings from the handle in your jaws. Your grip is true, no matter the issue; the lantern would never leave your grasp. Bugs run between your hooves. You try to sidestep them as they swarm, but several touch your hooves, sending ripples of discomfort through your broken mind. Little black dots fill the corners of your vision and you try not to scream as the door behind you slams shut.

You hear the sound of one of them, the guttural groan that a monster will release upon spotting you. The sound meant almost certain death. You look back, only to see nothing. You can hear hoofsteps on the stone virtually right in front of you, but see nothing. You hear the sound again from behind you and flip around. One of them is cantering towards you in a broken gait. Its movements are uncoordinated and terrifying. Looking at the creature only sends you further over the edge. Your vision blurs further and the staggering monster becomes a white blur.

You run, you turn and run for all that you have. You run as fast as you can, willing your legs to do more. The lantern swings and bumps against your front, searing the hair on your coat. The smell of burnt hair reaches your nostrils as you run, overpowering the stench of mold and rot. You can hear the monster lumbering along behind you. It would catch up. You can barely even make out the hall ahead. The lantern flickers, and goes out. Your only friend in the darkness is now no longer you living friend. Your only friend is dead. But you still hold onto the metal handle. There is more oil; there has to be more oil.

You reach a door ahead and yank it open. You run inside and slam it shut behind you. Your eyes adjust to the dark and you see that this room had been a terrible choice. It is small and crowded, no more than a storage closet. The door behind you thuds loudly, indicating that evil outside is still in pursuit of you. You drop the lantern and run to the back of the room. You toss a barrel out of the way and hide in the far corner. The door thuds again, this time with the signature sound of wood cracking. You whimper to yourself trying to quell your trembling limbs. The monster strikes the door again and this time a whole section bursts free.

You try to push yourself further into the corner, wishing that the wall would fall away to lead you to safety. You can only watch as the door fails entirely and bursts inward. In the perfect gloom, the monster stands there, its unintelligent gaze sweeping the pitch-black room. It takes a step forward and you hastily turn away. Looking at the beast will cause you to scream. If you scream; you are dead.

You hear it come further into the room. Its rotted hooves clop menacingly on the stone floor. Any second now, you expect to feel a sharp bite of pain in your back. You do not know whether or not it does see you in the small room. You hear the sound of it stumbling around. It knocks a bottle from the table and it shatters on the ground. You squeeze your lips tightly together to the silence the building scream of terror.

The room is filled with a sudden silence. The breathing of the monster lingers for a second more before dispelling completely. It’s not gone. You know it’s not. It’s a trick. But the question is, do you dare look?