A quiet gust of wind blew across the plains of Appleloosa, chilling the air and creating a tangled, unsettling vibe across the country. Near these giant plains where the buffalo tribes ran free and wild lay a mid-sized apple orchard, trees standing as tall and proud as giants in the darkening sky. A lone barn and fellow house stood quietly to the side of this orchard, and it was on the porch of the house where an old stallion sat in a rickety chair, watching Celestia’s sun slowly drift down to the earth.
The stallion, unlike the land before him, did not look to be in the best of condition. His tired old skin was wrinkled and his fur was thinning; his once vibrant red mane was becoming gray with age. The bags under his eyes indicated intense insomnia, and the constant flicker in his pupils gave a clear indication of phobia, as well as the apparent shotgun right next to his seat.
Yes, fear inflicted the weary old stallion…. but of what?
That question would soon be answered, as the he suddenly spotted a figure not far down the dirt road that led to his barn. Immediately, he tensed, gripping the shotgun in his front hooves with shaking vigor.
“Who goes there?!” he yelled, squinting his eyes to try see through the darkening space. All he could make out was a pony-shaped figure with a long, brown cloak and hoodie, which muddled their true features.
The cloaked pony did not answer, only continuing on their path towards the house.
“Who is it?!” he shouted once again as the figure drew closer and closer to his porch, “What do you want from me?!”
Now only a good yard or two away from the old stallion, the figure stopped and stood there as if content with just gazing at the shivering farmer. Although he could not see the pony’s eyes because of the lack of light, he could still feel their piercing stare.
“I swear to Faust, if you don’t answer right away, I’ll shoot!” he yelled once again, panic beginning to settle into his body, “I have this here shotgun, and I ain’t afraid to use it!”
Still, the figure stood, and stared.
“That’s it! I warned you!” His hoof moved to the trigger, and a shot rang out through the hollow air. Birds, who had been perched upon the ripe trees, now fled at the sudden boom, filling the air with their frantic chirping.
Once the sound had finished reverberating through the open plains, the old stallion was surprised to see that not only was the figure not dead, but was quietly pinning him face-down right on his very own porch.
“You’re the old stallion Wilbur, am I correct?” the stranger deadpanned in a colder-than-ice timbre.
“Y-y-yes,” Wilbur managed to get out through his shaking fear. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted the gun he had dropped when she had pounced on him, and in vain, tried to reach out towards it.
“No need to be scared, mister,” they stated, as they nonchalantly kicked the weapon away from his grasp, “Just need to take some… extra precautions. Here’s how this is going to work: I ask you questions, and you answer those questions. Simple. As. That.”
The finality and conviction in their tone alone made Wilbur want to cower under his bed, but being the proud stallion he was known to be, he was not about to go down without more of a fight. He kicked and squirmed, hoping to knock over the pony on top of him, but it was clear that they too possessed Earth-pony strength, as all the struggling seemed to make no difference to their unrelenting hold on him.
In his struggle, he managed to flip himself over onto his back and tried to position his legs to swing at the stranger, but they were all efficiently dealt with and soon, his hooves were pinned to the ground as well. During this, the stranger’s hood had came off and now, with no darkness preventing him from seeing, Wilbur finally got a good look at his attacker.
It was, indeed, a mare, but definitely not the kind of mare who cared about her looks. Her orange fur was matted with dirt and other stains he could not identify, as well as a couple of tiny freckles patched onto her cheeks. Her unkempt mane was a light sandy shade, almost reminding him of the texture of hay. And her green, alien eyes shot into him, fueled by rage and determination. He could’ve sworn he recognized her from somewhere, though.
Eventually, he stirred down, as there was no more energy in him to try and oppose this mysterious mare. “Fine, you win,” he exasperated in defeat.
“Good boy. Now tell me, what’s this about a monster rampaging around in your orchards?”
Wilbur was shocked. “H-how did you-?”
“Let’s just say I have a keen interest in your claims, old man. Now, what did you see?”
The poor old stallion, tired from his both his recent struggles against the mare and his countless nights of insomnia and stress, broke down suddenly and violently in front of the hooded mare. “Why does it have to be me!?” he cried in a sobbing rage, “I haven’t done anything wrong in my life. Ever. I’m just a simple farmer trying to make a living off the land around me. But that monster, it’s been coming into my orchard since a couple of months ago, and it won’t go away. It’s the size of a pony, and it looks just like any other pegasus in Equestria. But it’s a monster, I swear to you. It’s wings are deformed, no feathers at all. It’s snout ain’t like it’s supposed to be, it looks more like somepony ripped the snout off a pig and put it onto a pony. And it’s eyes...one time, I made the mistake of going after that thing while it was sleeping, but it woke up and I caught sight of them eyes… it felt like the eyes of Faust almighty were piercing into my soul. So I been hiding in my house ever since, with a shotgun ready just in case that monster ever tried to…”
“That’s all I need to hear,” the cloaked figure abruptly said, and Wilbur’s world was turned upside down as the mare ever so casually flipped him around and threw him off towards his house. Bruised and aching, he watched as the stranger walked off towards the orchard, the sun barely peeking out from above the treetops. Only then did he catch a glimpse of her flank, and the three apples of a cutie mark it wore.
The sun was long done with its game of peekaboo by the time Applejack had made her way from the old stallion’s house and into the apple orchard, leaving her with almost no light. This did not, however, prevent her from seeing. She had taken special consideration of this, and had gone to Zecora for help. Now, her vision was no longer impaired by the darkness that surrounded her, thanks to a concoction that left her with natural night-vision.
This was important, as the monster she was searching for had an uncanny way around the darkness. She couldn’t be left at a disadvantage. Not for this. She had been waiting a good many years for this moment.
As she traveled further and further into the orchard, she soon noticed a growing number of fallen apples lying on the ground.
However, these apples were not fat and juicy as they were supposed to be at ripeness. These apples were only the husky shells of the once delectable fruits they had been. Each of them had been sucked dry of their juices.
Applejack scowled in disgust, having grown up around apples her entire life. In fact, before that fateful night so many months ago, her whole life was dedicated to the fruits, and it was thought she was predestined to grow and harvest for the rest of her years.
Now, all the red fruits managed to accomplish was remind her of that same night, and the less reminders she got of that, the better off she ultimately was.
Suddenly, her ears perked as she detected a faint sound from not that far in front of her. A couple more feet forward, and the huntress stumbled upon a despicable sight: a clearing of about ten or twelve bare trees, all the apples having been collected and consumed. The consumer was perched, upside down, on a branch of one of the good-as-dead bearers of fruit, quietly napping with its gigantic wings wrapped around its entire frame.
It was a living legend. A vampony.
But was it the one she was going after? Only one way to find out.
Silently, Applejack reached into the under folds of her long cloak and withdrew a small metal object: a six-round revolver. Within it, a single bullet was held in its chambers, a bullet crafted from the purest silver. Its moment had come.
Making sure to keep as steady as possible, Applejack slowly raised her front right leg out and pointed the deadly weapon right at the slumbering beast. If she could just aim a bit more towards its center, she might just be able to pierce right through its heart…
The vampony, however, had other plans.
In a blink of an eye, it disappeared from her aim. Applejacks reared back, quickly digging her hooves firmly into the ground below in order gain a solid defensive stance. The creature may not be within her sights, but it was most definitely not gone.
A silent whoosh of the air behind Applejack was not unnoticed by her, and she quickly spun around and shot the revolver behind her. The vampony who had been spiraling towards her at high speeds shot out of the way almost immediately, the silver bullet coming nowhere near it. Instead, it spread it’s massive wings once again and let out an ear-piercing screech as it once again dove towards the huntress.
“No you don’t!” Applejack shouted as she quickly dropped the smoking revolver and took out the only other weapon on her: a wooden stake. Grabbing the stake with her hoof and bringing it into her jaw for more grip, she sidestepped the incoming creature just as it zoomed past her and slashed at it blindly. It let out a cry and fell to the ground, skidding on the hard dirt floor for a bit until coming to a stop a few feet away. Slowly, it got up, making it’s injury clear as it clutched it’s shredded wing in pain.
“Dear Princess Celestia, today I learned that everypony's contribution is important, no matter how small. If you just keep your head high, do your best, and believe in yourself, anything can happen!"
Applejack, upon seeing the wounded vampony lying on the ground, stood still for a second, as if contemplating. She observed the creature, taking note of its butter coat riddled with patches, its unkempt rose-tinted mane, and the mark of three butterflies adorning its flank….
“That is, if it’s okay with you…”
It continue to snarl and hiss, clearly in pain and confusion, as Applejack approached. She couldn’t tell what it was upset about the most: its brutal wing injury, or the fact that it couldn’t get to the apples positioned around it due to its handicap….
“I’d like to be a tree...”
For a moment, Applejack had to stop in her tracks. Her solid legs were shaking like trees in the wind, and her breathing had accelerated rapidly, but she continued on, the stake tightly clenched between her teeth as she set her eyes on her target…
“Listen here, mister! You may have huge teeth, and sharp scales, and snore smoke, and breathe fire, but you do not, I repeat, you do not… hurt… my… friends! You got that?"
Finally, as she got within a hoof radius, the vampony noticed the approaching huntress. It recognized her smell, causing its gnarled face to scrunch up and the snarling to increase. Applejack stared right back at it, never once taking her eyes off the incredibly large eyes and the blood-red irises that had once belonged to an old friend….
“Applejack, we can always find a way to fix that hole in the roof…”
Pony and vampony looked each other straight through their souls, until the vampony exposed its fierce, sharp fangs in what looked to be a maniacal grin, seemingly taunting the huntress. Then, it lunged forward, those fangs headed straight for Applejack’s juicy throat….
“...but if you never come back…”
The huntress swung down….
“...we'll never be able to fix the hole in our hearts.”
Applejack rubbed a rogue tear that had escaped from her eye as she recomposed herself, straightening her ragged cloak and wiping her blood-stained hooves on the grass she stood. Then, not making a single noise, she walked away from the cold corpse, not caring for the stake left driven into its underside. Her mission was accomplished. She had rid the world from the abomination before her, and gave Equestria more room to breath and live happily ever after.
Suddenly, a song made it’s way into her head, and although she might not have realized it, she began to sing it anyways, and the tear escaped once again.
"A true, true friend helps a friend in need…”
Author's Note
THAT ENDING, THOUGH!!
The original question I had in mind when I thought of writing this was: what if "BATS!" (the episode where Flutterbat originated) took a much darker turn? What if Fluttershy never got turned back, and she became a heartless, close-minded creature? Not very original, I know, but I set out to try and make it work, anyway.
This story was my first real attempt at creating an atmospheric, grim setting with a down-to-earth kind of feel, kind of like the classic Edgar Allen Poe short stories. I also tried t be very subtle with how I wrote it, because in my opinion, the more subtle you are in dark stories like this, the more of an impact it creates when you're reading through it. Whether I accomplished that or not is ultimately up to you guys.
It's interesting though, because I feel like with a universe like My Little Pony, where the canon is pretty clean and there's no serious drama that ever comes out of these episodes, it's kind of an interesting undertaking to write something much more dark and grim. But I gave it my best shot, and while I'm not entirely pleased with how it came out, I view it as a good learning experience none the less.
Hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day.
