ShanderShears

by jmj

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Sweetie Belle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Gore
Length: 3834

Sweetie Belle is staying with Rarity but has picked up the disgusting habit of biting her hooves. This annoying habit is driving Rarity insane and she resorts to recanting the legend of ShanderShears the tailor to ameliorate the situation.

Sweetie Belle is staying with Rarity but has picked up the disgusting habit of biting her hooves. This annoying habit is driving Rarity insane and she resorts to recanting the legend of ShanderShears the tailor to ameliorate the situation. But is it really only a story?

Published 2014-07-24 02:50:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-24 02:50:04 UTC

Just a story ...

Sweetie Belle sat snacking upon her hooves, a habit she had acquired over time whenever she grew bored or nervous. Her tiny teeth dug around the edge of her hoof and made quick snik-a-snak sounds, tugging and tearing at the the hard keratin until puny pieces were wrenched loose between her teeth. She spit the piece absently to the corner of the room, it had become so natural that she didn’t notice she even did it anymore until someone scolded her for the habit. This time it was Rarity.

Rarity had been sewing with great difficulty as her younger sister watched from across the room. The quick snapping and clacking of Sweetie’s teeth worked their way into her brain like the needle she pressed through the fabric before her. Each snickering sound drove the point a little deeper, her eyebrow had begun to quiver of its own accord by the time she shouted, “Sweetie Belle! Will you stop that disgusting hoof-biting.”

Sweetie, having been lost in thought and absently chomping away at her hoof, jumped as Rarity startled her. The shock had scared her and she talked out of turn before realizing what she was saying, “Do you have to scare me like that?”

Rarity gave her a look of warning and huffed as Sweetie once again lifted a hoof to her lips. “Sweetie! Stop! You walk around on those all day and Celestia knows what could be on them. You’re getting all sorts of germs in your mouth.”

Sweetie, aggravated with the arrangement that had been made that had caused her to miss camping with her friends, rolled her eyes impudently, “You sound just like Mom.”

Rarity glowered at the filly and went back to her sewing, opting to use the machine to drown out the insidious snacking sounds of her sister. The machine hummed quietly but masked Sweetie tolerably well.

Rarity was unhinged a little by the constant pestering and sulking Sweetie Belle had been enacting upon her. She knew that Sweetie had wanted to go camping with her friends, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash again but Rarity just couldn’t spare the time. The fact that she had no interest in traipsing around a dirty old forest again had nothing to do with it, but she was certainly happy that she had gotten behind this week and needed the weekend to recover. It hadn’t been her fault that their parents had gone out of town on business and instructed her to watch Sweetie. She especially did not find it fair that Sweetie’s foul mood was being directed at her and the insinuation that she was turning into their mother was below the belt to say the very least.

Rarity’s azure eyes flickered over the sewing machine occasionally to meet the obnoxiously insistent stare and snacking of her sister. Each time she looked up Sweetie’s smug look annoyed her more. She made it a point not to look again but found herself doing so accidentally to catch Sweetie spitting a rather large clipping towards the carpet with an audible, wet spitting sound and snapped angrily, “You just get your little rump out of that chair and pick those up! That is so nasty, Sweetie Belle! What has gotten into you? You had better pick up every last one of those filthy things.”

Sweetie scrunched her face up and slid from her chair, she just couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun Scootaloo and Apple Bloom must be having. They had been planning this trip for weeks and now she was going to have to miss it because Rarity couldn’t be bothered to leave her perfect little house with all of its plush pillows, dazzling draperies, and velvet-lined furniture. Sweetie saw through her ‘I’m busy’ excuse and decided that if she was to be stuck here with such a primpy, prudish pony as Rarity, she would punish her until she could go back home with their parents Sunday night.

She slunk to her haunches and began looking through the carpet for the little fleckings of hoof that she had gnawed off. She mumbled to herself and Rarity almost snarled, “I won’t have that kind of back talk, Sweetie Belle. I won’t.”

“Okay, Mom. Whatever you say,” Sweetie retorted with a hidden grin. She knew Rarity was sensitive to age and had witnessed the false, uncomfortable smile she gave anytime their mother mentioned how Rarity and she were so alike. It was a potent weapon.

Perhaps too potent. Rarity had leapt from her seat and gnashed her teeth together, howling like a furious teapot. “I’ll teach you, you little brat!”

Sweetie realized her mistake and skittered away, running quickly up the stairs to the second floor of Carousel Boutique with Rarity in tow behind her. She squealed in fright and dashed down the hall and slid into the last door, slamming it shut and locking it fast behind her.

Rarity slammed against the door, a hairbrush floating above her head to be used as a spankin device, just as the lock clicked into place. She banged against the door with her hooves. “You open this door right now, Sweetie Belle! That last comment was too much and I’m not going to take your insolence anymore!”

Feeling brave and safe on the other side of the barrier, Sweetie crossed her forelegs angrily and yelled back, “Me? You are the one who won’t condescend to step one hoof into the woods with your sister! We planned it three weeks ago and now you can’t go?”

Rarity was still piping hot but attempted to rationalize her sister’s actions with the disappointment she was enduring. “I’m sorry, Sweetie, but I can’t help that I got behind this week. It’s important that I get caught up on all of this work.”

“I always have to beg you to do ANYTHING with me, Rarity! Just like the Sisterhoof Social and the last time we went camping. It’s not fair! Applejack loves Apple Bloom and they do things together all of the time. Even Scootaloo does more with Rainbow Dash than you do with me!” Sweetie pouted, tears forming in her eyes.

Rarity sighed to herself and wished Sweetie could understand the responsibilities of being an adult. Sweetie’s words had evaporated much of the steam in the mare and she felt guilty. “Sweetie Belle, I’m sorry. We’ll do something nice together next weekend, I promise. I know that I said that camping was icky, unnecessary, and a tribulation the last time we went, but I really did want to …”

“Liar!”

Rarity pressed her forehead to the door. “I’m not lying. I’m sorry. Next weekend, I promise. Anything you want to do.”

Sweetie’s voice was suddenly very calm, “Maybe we can go to one of Rainbow Dash’s trainings? Scootaloo says that they are fun and really help keep you in shape.”

Rarity made a face at the thought of getting sweaty. Not to mention Rainbow Dash’s enthusiasm was bound to result in getting filthy and covered in dirt, mud, and whatever other nastiness may be there. She would do it though, for Sweetie. “Okay. We’ll do that. You can count on it.”

Sweetie’s voice rang with ire and cold hatefulness, “Good! Maybe you can lose some of that belly you’re getting!”

Rarity banged against the door again and snarled fitfully, making several promises to make sure Sweetie didn’t sit down for a week when she came out of that bedroom. She caught herself, her brow twitching ceaselessly and her breathing erratic and vicious. She was so irate and that kind of energy was bad for the complexion. She needed to let Sweetie’s insults go and calm down. She was being irrational and irrationality was rarely a beautiful thing. Her dander was still up however and she shouted at the door. “You had better just stay in that room, Sweetie Belle!”

“I will! I don’t want to see you anyway!” Sweetie waited until she heard Rarity returning to her work before she hopped onto the bed, curled into a ball, and stuffed her hoof into her mouth to bite.

Nibbling, she sniffled and reflected upon the poor relationship she had with her sister. She just wanted Rarity to want to spend time with her. Rarity never wanted to do anything fun, at least not with her. She always went out with Twilight and her other friends whenever something was happening. She never refused to go with them because her ‘oh so beautiful’ mane might get ruffled or her hooves might get muddy. Sweetie wiped her eyes with one foreleg and snapped another piece of hoof between her teeth. She regretted saying such mean things to Rarity, but she was just so upset and lost her temper. She covered her head with the pillow and wished her sister was more like Applejack.

Rarity was furious as she sat downstairs and ruminated upon the last few minutes. She couldn’t believe the obstinacy of the filly upstairs. She had the gall to not only insinuate that Rarity was becoming her mother but also to blatantly state that she was fat! A growl escaped the mare as she leaned back into her seat and inspected her taut tummy, poking it gently with one hoof. Now that the seed of doubt was planted, she saw what didn’t exist and cursed herself for eating that extra slice of cake at Pinkie Pie’s birthday the week before.

The more she thought, the longer her madness boiled. She tried working on her dresses but found it nearly impossible.

Unconsciously Rarity’s anger got the better of her and something she thought long dead came creeping back. Her slender leg lifted slowly and eased gingerly upward. Her hoof brushed her lip aside and snugged itself between her grinding her teeth. Unknowingly, Rarity bit into the edge of her hoof and tugged at a tiny imperfection. Rarity used to bite her hooves just like Sweetie Belle. It was something she could control now except when she was terribly irritated or nervous. Then those old desires came back without her even taking note of her actions. The flake of hoof was pried and torn until it pulled loose. She was just about to spit it away when she realized what she was doing.

Rarity groaned and slammed her hooves down onto the table. It had been years since she had relapsed to that old habit. She knew that Sweetie’s chewing had offended her so deeply because it was awakening urges tucked away inside of her. It had been how she dealt with stress when she was a filly too. At least until her grandmother, deceased before Sweetie had been born, had told her about …

A grin festered across Rarity’s features and she knew exactly how to repay Sweetie’s insolence. Driven by her vexation, Rarity ran to her room and began searching for a few items. There she found a pattern for a business suit of brown corduroy, a blue bow tie, an old bowler hat and enough of her rich, gaudy makeup to fancy a whole line of chorus mares in Manehattan’s red-light district.

Last, but certainly not least, the final piece of her play: an oversized, silvery pair of scissors that resembled a duet of kitchen knives bolted together or glittering garden shears. She gently stroked the blades and smirked to herself, giving them a quick stroke and admiring the hiss they made as they came together. A chill ran down her spine as the story played in her mind. It had helped her give up that disgusting habit when she was young and she planned to snip it from Sweetie Belle as well.

Leaving the articles of the play behind, she returned to the upstairs and stood outside of Sweetie Bell’s door. She felt giddy at the joke but also a little disgusted with herself for the enjoyment she was already getting. Despite this nudging of doubt, Sweetie had called her fat; she deserved it.

She had been quiet when coming up the stairs and she gently pressed her ear to the door and focused on the sounds coming from the room. There weren’t many, but she could make out the clicking of teeth on hoof.

Perfect.

She knocked with her hoof and called before Sweetie could reply, “Sweetie!” her voice was taking on an urgent but concerned tonality. “I have to run across town and pick up some more fabric. Listen, I have to tell you about something.”

Silence came from inside, not even the clicking of the filly chewing her hooves was heard. Rarity smiled to herself as this meant Sweetie was listening. “Did mom ever tell you of ShanderShears the tailor?” She paused for a moment.

A confused reply came from inside. “No?”

“Oh, well it’s probably just an old pony’s tale anyway. Will you do me a favor and not bite your hooves until I get back?” Rarity smirked as she left the reason vague and enticing.

“Umm … yes.” The answer was slightly unnerved.

Rarity added a little nervous twinge to her voice for dramatic effect. “You have to promise me, Sweetie.”

“I … I promise. What is ShanderShears the tailor?” The filly’s voice quivered and had Rarity not been recently vexed, she would have felt too guilty to continue.

“Nothing. Just stay in bed and, whatever you do, don’t chew your hooves until I get back home.”

There came the sound of squeaking springs and tiny hooves prattling about the floor. “You have to tell me. What is it?” There was real fear beginning to poke through the words like the end of a knife.

“I … I don’t know if I should tell you.” She let her aggravation come through some as she continued, “Mom wouldn’t tell you. She’d not want you to worry.”

“Rarity, please. I … I’m sorry I said that.”

Rarity could tell Sweetie was simply saying that and her smirk grew a little wider as she mumbled to herself, “Not yet, but you will be.”

She let out a false sigh and acquiesced, which she had intended to do all along. “Okay, but only because I don’t know how true the story is.”

“Grandmother told me about him when I was a filly. I used to bite my hooves too. Apparently it runs in the family. Grandmother only had one of her front hooves, the other was missing a few inches above the hoof where the joint connects it to the lower leg.” She paused, remembering sitting in front of the fireplace as her grandmother told her the story as a foal. “She saw me biting at my hoof and shouted at me, ‘Filly, you’ll be lucky if the tailor doesn’t come for you one night! Do you want this to happen to you?’ and she shook her missing hoof at me. I was so scared by that. I asked her what she meant and she told me, ‘ShanderShears comes for those who bite and suck their hooves. He’s a great, tall tailor, more of a monster than a pony, that uses a giant pair of scissors to cut the hooves off of ponies who have such a nasty habit.’ She told me that when she was young, she had the same bad habit and one night when she was left alone in the house, ShanderShears came for her. She said he wore an old business suit and bow tie with a bowler hat. He caught her, pulled her foreleg up and slashed her hoof off just … like … that! He was going for her other leg when her parents came home and he just disappeared. She almost died from loss of blood before her parents got her to a doctor and if he would have taken the other, she wouldn’t have made it. She never bit her remaining hoof again and she never saw him again.”

The story made her blood run cold and she shivered as she finished.

“You’re making that up. you’re just trying to scare me,” Sweetie squeaked through the door with frailty.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I just … well, I just don’t want something to happen to you.” She paused for a moment. “I have to go. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Whatever you do, don’t chew your hooves until I’m back.” Rarity turned and walked down the stairs, going to the front door and slamming it just hard enough to where it could be heard upstairs. Chuckling, she crept to her room and began to dress and apply makeup.

After only a few moments Rarity was gazing into the mirror of her boudoir and found the face of a monster gazing back. She had painted her face up like a demented Europonian clown. There was no bright shiny nose, only exaggerated features such as wrinkles, smoked eyeshadow in wide, arcing patterns, and angular, jagged lips that did not extend beyond the natural width of her own but spike up in two triangular shapes and joining with a singular reverse pyramid sliding down her chin in red and black. The white foundation made it stand out and the crooked, downward V of her painted eyebrows was the best finishing touch for which she could have dreamed. She looked positively creepy.

Rarity tied her mane back into a tail and tucked it up under the hat to conceal it. She stood, fixed her bow tie, tilted the bowler hat forward, and admired herself in the business coat before exiting the room. She stifled a laugh and listened closely for Sweetie Belle.

She didn’t hear anything downstairs and crossed to the front door, opening it and slamming it as hard as she could to attract Sweetie’s attention. She floated the oversized scissors before her with her unicorn magic. She gave a wicked smile and giggled in a high, shrill pitch like the screeching of a chalkboard loud enough to fill the house.

Rarity heard something ruffle from upstairs and stepped to the bottom of the stairs where she grinned up and waited.

Sure enough, a door creaked open followed by a high, breaking voice. “Rarity?” and a moment later, “Are you home?”

Rarity decided as she heard steps from above that she would go and hide in the kitchen. She quickly dashed into the kitchen and smirked when she heard Sweetie Belle start and gasp from upstairs.

“Rarity?” Sweetie’s voice, chilled to the bone, called downstairs. Rarity ducked behind the kitchen table and purposely pushed a chair hard enough to make it squawl.

The sound of hooves coming downstairs caught in Rarity’s ears and she grinned, preparing to leap out and horrify Sweetie Belle.

A sharp clacking echoed as Sweetie’s hooves tapped against the tile floor of the kitchen and Rarity laughed insanely again, popping up from her hiding place, the floating scissors raising above her head and making their frightening hiss but Rarity only caught a glimpse of something fleeing the kitchen. She leapt from her hiding place and bolted from the kitchen, turning the corner and heard the clattering of hooves mounting the stairs.

She wouldn’t let Sweetie get away this time. Calling on strength she didn;t know she had, Rarity leapt the stairs three at a time and was sorely disappointed when she reached the top and saw the door at the end of the hall slam shut once more. Grimacing, she darted forward and slid to a halt at the doorway. She twisted the knob and was genuinely surprised when the door gave a little.. Sweetie must have forgotten to lock it in her panic. Rarity smirked. The game could still be interesting.

The door swung open but the lights were off and Rarity’s eyes struggled to adjust. She snapped the scissors violently above her head and broke into a roll of insidious laughter. She heard the sound of bated breathing, huffing and puffing with fright. Rarity snapped the scissors again viciously and stepped into the darkened room.

Her eyes were beginning to adjust and she could see the pink and purple mop of mane leaning against the far side of the guest bed. Sweetie must have been hyperventilating because her gasping became louder and Rarity nearly broke character right then out of pity; she was really horrifying Sweetie. She decided to let it play out another few seconds and leapt around the bed, her scissors raised high and hissing while she scolded the filly, “And THAT’S for calling me FAT!”

The color ran from her face as she looked down upon the mess that was her younger sister. She was indeed leaning against the bed, splashed and soaked with blood that appeared black in the gloom. Her forelegs were spread out from her tiny body and terminated prematurely, the black liquid spilling into a large pool upon the floor from the shredded meat where her hooves used to be. Sweetie’s eyes were dilated and her throat had been pierced and torn by something intensely sharp and pointed. The gasping was the air circulating in and out through the ragged hole that sputtered and stained the filly’s tiny chest with dozens of splattering drops of blood.

Rarity’s voice was choked in her throat and she retreated against the wall, mouth agape and silently shrinking. Tears poured from her eyes and her heart felt as if it had seized in her chest.She tumbled on something and slammed into the wall. Horrified, she could just make out the shape of one of Sweetie’s missing hooves laying on its side.

“Rarity! You’re home!” A giddy impersonation of Sweetie’s voice called from the doorway as a tall form crowded into the threshold. Rarity could just make out the outline of a bowler hat on a tall pony frame and a large pair of glittering scissors floating before it.

ShanderShears capitalized upon Rarity’s fright and the mare barely managed to begin a shriek when his scissors pierced on either side of her vocal chords and made a lovely hiss as they slid together, leaving the mare to gurgle and choke on the newly spilling blood.

Rarity kicked but ShanderShears was too large and awkward for that trick to work. He easily forced her to her back and lifted her hooves, inspecting the tiny bite marks from earlier and bringing his shears around. He just may able to get both of her hooves in one clean slice.

Rarity’s tear-coated eyes showed madness. Her mind had shattered and she continued to attempt to scream as her forelegs were held before her despite her best attempts to pull them free. Rivulets of black, choking blood spilled from the corners of her painted mouth and the only sounds she could make was a wet, phlegmy guttural splattering. She watched in terror as the black form hefted the dripping scissors up and slid open around her beautiful hooves.

Snip snip, the scissors hissed.

Author's Note

Based on a German folk tale.