November 7: 2

[Timestamp: November 7, 7:32 PM]

“-And that’s why they called me Clyde.”

“You made that up!” Rivet shakes his head.

“How do you know? You weren’t there.”

The three of them sit at one of the cafeteria tables, their food set before them, and cards in their hooves. The sun has begun to fade, as the silhouettes of trees can be viewed through the windows in the amber light.

“So, where’s everyone going tonight?” Swift throws down a few cards. “Three fours.”

“Three sevens.” Rivet drops his cards on the pile. “I think it would probably be best if we stayed in bed tonight. We don’t need a repeat of last night.”

“Burn.” Clyde drops two cards on top. “I don’t know. We’re only here for a day or two more, why don’t we go exploring a little more?”

“I…” Rivet stammers, “I dunno… ”

“Don’t worry, Riv,” Swift gives Rivet a slap on the back, “It’s fine. I had a bad dream last night, no biggie.”

Rivet sighs.

Clyde drops three cards, “Three jacks.”

“They all burn.” Rivet tosses a card on top, grinning.

[Timestamp: November 7, 8:53 PM]

“So, about the body in the basement...” Swift asks from behind the camera, pointing it at Rivet and Clyde who are adjusting their sleeping bags back in the waiting room. Instead of night vision, each of them holds a flashlight to illuminate the room. “Any ideas who it is?”

“It matches the dressmaker legend that you told us.” Clyde points out.

Rivet nods, “It really does. So much it’s scary.”

“Did you find anything to back it up before?”

“I found her file, I think.” Rivet nods again. “It’s weird seeing her file photo. Hard to tell she was a living pony.”

“But is there anything that makes her the Dressmaker we think she is?”

“Actually, yes. There’s a journal entry about her.” Rivet digs into his saddlebag, pulling out the leather book. He clears his throat.

“October 27,
A new group of students joined the workforce today. Among them was a mare I thought I recognized. She was a new nurse, a unicorn, so I assumed I recognized her from a picture in one of the school magazines I receive every month. They always seem to want to send their students here, maybe just because we’re new. Regardless, I looked into why I recognized her. When we had a moment alone, I asked her if she had been in any news articles recently. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, her face dropped into a depressed frown, and her eyes glistened with sorrow. She said, “Don’t you recognize me?” I shook my head, and she sighed loudly. She said, “Do the words, Ruined, Ruined, mean anything to you?” That’s when it hit me. I had treated her years ago after an accident she had suffered. An accident that had left her mentally scarred, and her sister dead. She had been a part-time seamstress then, and now she was one of my nurses. I was filled with pride at that moment. I had saved this girl, and she wanted to repay me by becoming a medical professional. I asked where she had been assigned. She told me she had been placed as a mortician. I worry about her in that situation. Death is what drove her to madness, and now it is her profession. I hope she does not have a relapse down there, but it is her field of choice, and I cannot argue with that.
Doctor Chlorohoof, MD.”

“So,” Swift excitedly begins, “so it’s true! The legend of the Dressmaker is true! All legends start from fact!”

“You’re pretty excited,” Clyde says, “for a guy who just put a face and name to the body in the basement.”

“But this means that some other legends could be true too,” Swift argues, “This is huge stuff!”

“He’s right.” Rivet closes the journal. “This is huge.”

“Maybe you could go back into the office tonight to try and find some more!”

Rivet shakes his head. “I think I’ll wait until morning.”

“Your loss.”

“I think it would be wise if we all just hung around here tonight. We can keep looking for stuff tomorrow.”

“Maybe Rivet’s right.” Clyde lies back on his bag. “We could use a good night’s sleep for once.”

“I guess…” Swift grumbles.

Rivet yawns, “I’m still tuckered from last night.”

The yawn spreads to the other two like a wave, and they all fall silent. Rivet quitely crawls into his sleeping bag, pulling it up around his neck with a soft, Good night, guys.” They respond in kind and roll into their own bags.

Each of them put out their flashlights with soft clicks.

The room falls black, and silent.

[Timestamp: November 7, 10:31 PM]

“Buck it,” Swift mutters to himself, “I can’t sleep until I know what’s going on here for sure.”

The Infrared light is now giving the shot it’s green glow, and the familiar hallway leading to the foals room fills the frame. Swift is alone, his breathing and the clicking of his hooves on the tile are the only sounds that can be heard.

The door creaks lightly as he opens it, and he stands once again in the foal’s room. The camera swings to the usual chest in the corner, locked and closed as it had been when he entered before.

He stops for a moment, and everything goes silent.

“I…” Swift looks for the words, whispering into the microphone. “Hold on… The pictures… I took them out of the box two nights ago, and knocked them over. But last night they were back in the box. I took them out again today. But…” He gulps audibly. “Let’s get this over with.”

He reaches down, placing the camera in the same position as before, and turns the key in the chest.

[Camera 1]

“Oh, come on, Swift…” Clyde mutters.

The night-vision shot of the waiting room shows Swift’s sleeping bag, unzipped and empty of it’s occupant.

“You are such a liar.”

Clyde turns the camera to face the sleeping Rivet. The shot zooms in on Rivet’s face, drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth as he sleeps soundly.

“He’s like a little baby,” Clyde mocks, “but he was really tired. I should let him be.”

The camera levels out.

“I should go find Swift. He said something about the files, so he’s probably down in the basements looking for more spooky stories to prove.”

Clyde begins quietly clicking over to the stairwell to the lower levels.

[Timestamp: November 7, 10:40 PM]

Swift shuffles through the pictures, going one by one. He stops, pauses to think, and takes all but the last picture out of the pile.

The sound of chattering laughter and static scream through the room and die out as soon as they came.

“Why won’t you ever answer me?”

Swift gulps, holding the picture tightly, and turns to face the mare standing behind him. Her mane is perfectly straight, except for the loose strands blowing in an invisible wind. Her big eyes stare sadly at Swift as she stands shyly in her hospital gown.

“Don’t you like them?”

Swift takes a deep breath and holds up the picture of the mare, stallion and foal. “Y-yes.”

“You do?” Her eyes open wider.

“It… It’s v-very nice.”

[Camera 1]

The metal stairs creak and moan as Clyde comes to the second basement. The sounds of a separate, distant squealing of metal in the halls drifts into the stairwell.

“Swift? Are you in here?”

No answer comes. Clyde continues through the door and into the hall. Looking around, he attempts to find the room where the sound is coming from.

A quiet, feminine voice sings merrily in the distance.

“Well, my little filly dear, don’t you guess,
Better be making your special dress,
Special dress, special dress,
Better be making your special dress.”

Clyde halts in his path, listening intently. Slowly, he proceeds down the hall, finding the source of the singing.

Room B2-03.

Clyde opens the door with a shrill creek and steps inside. All of the racks on the wall are pulled out, and the body of the mare is exposed, fabric draping over the sides of the table. The singing is more concentrated in the room, and Clyde continues to search for the source.

“Well, it’s already made, trimmed in red,
Stitched and sewn with blood red thread,
Blood red thread, Blood red thread,
Stitched and sewn with blood red thread.”

The camera scans the room, the infrared light glints off of something in the corner. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a gramophone, and a record spins slowly on the deck.

Clyde chuckles, “Swift, you’re such a jerk,” and pulls the needle off of the record, silencing the tune, and returning the room to peace.

“Swift!” Clyde calls, “where are you hiding?”

[Timestamp: November 7, 10:48 PM]

“What… Happened to you?” Swift asks quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“W-why are you here?”

“Because it’s after light’s out, of course. And the nurse would be very mad if I left.”

“What?”

“She’s evil. She wants me dead.”

“The nurse does?”

“She wants us all dead. But me most of all. More than me, she hates my foals.”

“What foals?” Swift shifts uneasily.

“The foals all around us right now. They like you, I think.” The room is filled with the chattering and the mare giggles slightly. “But that nurse thinks they don’t exist. She thinks they’re in my head. Everytime I try to have fun with them, she comes in and makes them go away.”

“How does she do that?”

“She puts the block in my mouth, and makes me put the halo on…”

“The-the what?”

“The halo makes the lights dim, and then I start shaking, and everything hurts, and it feels like I’m being crushed. I-I start-start to scream!” The mare begins shrieking uncontrollably and thrashing about.

Swift falls to the floor, the camera dropping to the ground for a moment before he picks it up.

“IT HURTS SO MUCH! MAKE IT STOP!”

Swift’s breath is heavy and fast on the microphone.

The mare freezes mid-thrash, and slowly returns to her natural stance. “Then everything goes black. And when I wake up… All of my foals are gone…”

“That’s… A-awful…”

[Camera 3]

“You guys suck. I thought we agreed we would stay here tonight.” Rivet grumbles into the camera, back at the camp.

“But no. Screw what Rivet thinks, lets go out and scare ourselves to death. I won’t be able to sleep with those two jerks out running around. I might as well scare myself too!”

[Camera 1]

“Swift? Where are you at?”

Suddenly, the music comes back on, and the female voice begins to sing again.

“Well she wouldn’t say yes and she wouldn’t say no…”

Clyde turns back to the gramophone, but the record does not turn, and the needle is still on the rack.

“What in the…” Clyde puts his head close to the gramophone, but no music is coming from it.

“All she’d do was sit and sew…”

“Swift?” The camera scans the room, stopping on a small swatch of fabric laying on the floor. “What’s…”

He clops over to it, picking it up in his hoof and holding it to the camera lens.

“What’s this doing down here?” Clyde takes a closer peek at the swatch. “Silk...? This is really expensive stuff…”

“Sit and sew, sit and sew,
All she’d do was…”

“Where is that coming from?”

“Sit.” A rattling can be heard, like a motor running in the distance, but charging ever closer to the camera.

“Swift?” Clyde calls out.

“And.”

“Who’s there!?” Clyde scans more frantically.

“Sew!”

The light sound of crying can be heard in the room, and Clyde whips around to see a unicorn mare with a flowing mane sitting on the ground. She holds a bundle of cloth tightly to her, and her head is nearly pressed to it. Upon closer inspection, the fabric has dark stains on multiple spots.

Clyde gulps. “H-hello?”

The unicorn continues to cry, her face scratched on one tear stained cheek. She leans down and kisses the bundle of cloth in her hooves.

“A-are you o…” Clyde stops and focuses on the bundle, which seems to be pulsating slightly.

“Ruined… Ruined…” The unicorn cries.

Clyde takes a step back. “Miss?”

The unicorn ceases to cry. The room falls eerily silent and still. Slowly, she raises her head to lock eyes with Clyde. Her face contorts to an image of pure rage as she screams, “RUINED!” With her scream, she drops the bundle to the floor with a loud thump. The bundle rolls to show a filly with her eyes open wide as her head falls unnaturally to one side, slapping against the hard floor. The filly’s mouth is open, her face frozen in terror, but no sound or breathing come from her.

“Oh shi-” Clyde doesn’t wait to finish his words before charging from the room, his powerful legs driving him further and further.

[Camera 3]

Rivet is sitting at the desk in Doctor Chlorohoof’s office, more reverently than before. His posture is tired, but not as relaxed as before. Two files are sprawled on the table under the journal.

“Okay…” Rivet takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes. “I am getting nowhere. A nurse who had a traumatic accident, we know this already. A severely disturbed patient is what I need to find. But where…”

Rivet cracks his joints before returning to the task at hand.

“November 7,
The patient seems to be getting worse. Originally, I thought it would be helpful. It sounds cruel, but my thought was that if her mind associated the EST with seeing the foals, it would eventually cause her to stop seeing them. Even if that weren’t the case, the EST could treat whatever illness was causing the foals to appear in the first place. But the number she is subjected to-It’s unimaginable what she must be going through. I will need to have a talk with the nurse. However, with all the treatment, she is still not recovering from them. She awakes from the treatment and cries because the foals aren’t there. It is heartbreaking to see her so. In my mind, I feel that treatment should stop. She has little chance of recovery, and the foals she sees aren’t doing her any harm. Perhaps we should consider just keeping her as a permanent resident.
Doctor Chlorohoof, MD.”

“I wish he would leave years. That would help me find which bloody file to look for!” Rivet slams the book closed. “I’m overtired. The guys are going to hear about this tomorrow.”

As he slammed it, a picture fell out from one of the files, and another got pushed off of the desk. Rivet groans as he picks up the folder, “Hello, crazy nurse number three.” He then bends down to pick up the picture that fluttered to the ground.

“Who are you?” He turns the picture over. “Straight pink mane… Just like…” His eyes go wide. “Just like the mare Swift was-Where’s her file!?”

Rivet shuffles the papers until he finds the correct file. “The room number is right. How could he dream of her? He’s never seen her.” Rivet seems to be working himself into a panic. He slides the picture into his saddlebag and stands up from the desk, grabbing the camera.

[Timestamp: November 7, 10:53 PM]

“Awful…” Swift stammers.

“But since she’s in charge,” the mare shakes her head slowly, “no one dares to question her.”

Swift takes a deep breath and holds up the picture. “What is this?”

“Oh, that?” the mare cocks her head, “It’s a picture the nice Doctor told me to draw. He said I should make a picture of what I will be like when I get out of here.”

“When… When you get out?”

“Mhmm.” She nods. “That’s me, and my very own foal. And that must be you.”

“M-me?” Swift almost chokes on the words.

“Yeah. I always imagined an angel would come and take me away from here. That’s you, isn’t it? You’re my angel? And you’ve come to take me away?”

“M-me?” Swift repeats.

“You even have the wings of an angel. I said you would come, but the nurse told me no one would ever come for me.”

“Which n-nurse?”

“That nurse,” the mare spits, “the one who likes the machines in the basement!”

“The one who makes dresses?”

The mare cocks her head. “No. She’s a nice nurse. And she’s a really pretty singer.”

“There’s another nurse?”

“She doesn’t have a heart. She’s a monster.”

“A… Monster?” Swift shivers slightly.

Suddenly, a wind rips through the room, and a light buzzing noise accompanies it. The sound of static comes over the microphone, and hangs in the air even when the wind dies out. Swift seems to shiver, as the camera vibrates. A few puffs, like warm breath on a cold day, drift in front of the camera. Swift takes a deep breath and lets it out, creating another puff.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” A mare’s angry voice drifts through the static. Swift searches for a source, but finds none in the room.

“My angel!” The mare with the straight mane shouts back.

“How many times do I have to tell you!? There is no angel! No one will ever come for you! No one will ever love you!”

“That’s not true! He’s right here!” The mare points at Swift.

“It looks like you need another session.” The voice sighs. “But you have to take your medicine.”

“No! Not another! Please!”

“Listen, bitch. You don’t have a choice. I’m in charge here. Now move!” Her voice makes the room rumble.

“No! He’s real! I swear! He’s right here!”

“NOW!” A screeching fills the air as the mare screams. The wind begins to gust again.

Like sand, the mare with the straight mane begins to be blown aside by the wind, slowly fading from view. Her scream still hangs heavy on the air as her image finally disappears.

As the static fades from the audio, only Swift’s heavy breathing exists in the dark room.

[Camera 1]

Clyde’s panting can be heard. The camera is pointed at the tile floor, the infrared light reflecting brightly. Clyde stands still, apparently being content with the distance he ran from the morgue, or being too tired to go any further.

“Please…” Clyde gasps. “Please tell me I’m not going insane.”

The room is filled with the sound of hooves charging up the metal stairs. Clyde drops his camera and stands back, the view is inverted and aimed at the stairwell. He starts to take deep breaths and stands still.

The door slams open as Rivet slides into the room, letting out a small yell, presumably when he sees Clyde.

“Don’t do that!” Rivet shouts, “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Clyde coughs and speaks. “Rivet! Man, am I glad to see you!”

Rivet cocks an eyebrow, “I’m happy to see you too.” He looks Clyde over for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“I saw something down there,” Clyde huffs.

“I saw something too, and I think Swift needs to see it.” Rivet picks up Clyde’s camera and helps Clyde to his feet.

[Timestamp: November 7, 11:03 PM]

“I am not…” Swift whispers, “I am not going insane.”

Swift holds the camera aimed down at the pile of scattered papers on the tile floor. His breathing is normal now, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

“Please. Someone tell me I’m not going insane.”

“Swift!” Two voices call from outside of the room. The frantic sound of hooves running in the hall echoes into the room.

He raises the camera to view the two ponies standing in the doorway. Rivet and Clyde are both panting, Clyde more than Rivet, and they look into the room with their eyes wide and worried.

Rivet steps inside. “Swift. I found that girl you were talking about. She’s the patient Doctor Chlorohoof was talking about.”

“So?” Swift grumbles. “Rivet, I…”

“What?” Rivet takes a step forward.

“I…” Swift fights to get the words out, “I saw her.”

“In your dream?” Rivet’s face seems to drop. “Please tell me you mean in your dream.”

“A few minutes ago.” Swift mutters. “In this room.”

“Swift, that’s nuts.” Rivet nervously forces a chuckle, “Stop fooling around.”

“He’s not nuts.” Clyde steps in behind Rivet. “I believe him.”

“Why?” Rivet turns to him, and pauses for a moment. “Who… Did you see her too?”

“Not her,” Clyde shakes his head, “The Dressmaker.”

“The body in the basement?”

“She wasn’t a body. She was moving, and… Crying.”

“There’s something seriously wrong here.” Rivet states. “I think we should leave.”

“Do you believe me?” Swift asks.

“I-I-I’m not sure what to think.” Rivet shakes his head. “Maybe you’re both crazy, maybe I’m crazy, maybe there’s a gas leak, I don’t know! I’m too tired and scared to think. Let’s just get out of this hell-hole, and sleep outside tonight.”

“I’d rather get as far away from here as possible.” Clyde states, “But we can’t travel in the dark. There’s no way to navigate.”

“Please, let’s just go.” Swift begs, “I’m freaking out here.”

The three of them nod and head back towards the waiting room. The traverse the tile halls in silence. It seems as if any noise would provoke another appearance, and they listen for the tell-tale signs. Rivet, though he has not seen anything, seems the most nervous of any of them.

After they descend the stairway, they are once again in their camp, just as they had left it.

“Let’s get our stuff together and get out.” Swift states.

They all do as he said, gathering their sleeping bags and belongings together in their packs and throwing them on. As soon as the last pack landed on the last back, they made their way towards the doors of the waiting room, and through them into the foyer. Rivet leads the way as they head towards the exit doors. The doors themselves are steel, with a small porthole with wires running through it to make it shatter-proof.

Rivet steps up and shoves on the crashbars with all of his might, but the doors do not budge.

“What the hell!?” Rivet begins panting. “They won’t open!”

Clyde steps up and shoves on the doors along side of Rivet, with the same result.

“Shit.” Clyde hisses. “They’re stuck!”

“Give me the keys.” Clyde turns to Rivet, who immediately begins to rifle through his bag for them.

When his hoof emerges with the keys, Clyde pulls them out of his hoof immediately and begins to work at the crashbars. After several attempts, he gives up and tosses the keys back to Rivet.

“It’s no use.” Clyde groans. “Looks like we’ll have to camp here tonight, and try again in the morning.”

“We can’t stay here!” Swift shouts.

“They haven’t done anything to us,” Rivet reasons, “Maybe we’ll be fine tonight. All they’ve done is scare us. Probably unintentionally. Swift, remember what you told us about Death Echoes?”

“What about them?” Swift calms slightly.

“You said,” Rivet pauses to think, “That they relive the moment of their death again and again, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“What if that’s what these are doing? What if all it is is just an echo? They can’t hurt us if they’re just doing the same thing over and over.”

“But she looked at me,” Swift replies, “and she talked to me. Death Echoes just do the same thing. She spoke to me. That nurse… She didn’t seem to notice me. She might be a Death Echo.”

“The Dressmaker didn’t really look at me, so much as through me, I think.” Clyde recalls, “Maybe she’s one too.”

“Does that make you guys feel a little better?” Rivet asks.

Swift sighs. “Being able to give it a name helps.”

“Good.” Rivet nods. “Then let’s set up. We’re sleeping here tonight.”