Nightmare Waltz

by Bissco

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 1079

It's the night of Nightmare Moon's return and where better to be stuck, than in the dark Everfree forest?

In the deep, dark, haunting Everfree Forest; Strike is stuck in the dark on the worst night possible; Nightmare Moon's escape.

When he is captured by the evil incarnation of Princess Luna, he must make sacrifices that could cost him his life as he tries to escape from the hidden "Garden of the Night".

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-13 21:30:59 UTC

Midnight Forest

Strike dragged his heavy injured hooves across the dried leaves which covered the lightly trodden ground of the Everfree forest; the sky above was a dark black, but strangely there was no stars to be seen; just the brighter-than-usual pearl moon, which hung above the horizon.

The wind swept through the Stallion's mane, making his tall slender body tremble softly as he trotted, following the faded blue sign-posts which had been installed after the mysterious disappearance of a group of orphaned fillies; hoping the signs would bring them home; withered flowers hung from the rotting wood, labels of "never forgotten" and "Come home" were smudged badly from the rainy winter season which had just passed.

Strike clenched his teeth through the pain of his badly hurt body; his legs ached badly, a variety of bones stuck out from his wing, crimson liquid staining his dark blue fur.

It was the Summer Sun celebration that night, and Strike had been practicing with the Wonderbolts for their season debut at the celebration in Ponyville; his home town. He had been thrilled when he was chosen to fly in this season's squad, along with some of his life-long idols like Spitfire and Soarin.

He had gotten to the skies first, eager to make a good impression on Spitfire; he practised the routine, which contained some complex corkscrews and dives, but as he came to the 2nd Corkscrew above Everfree forest, his wing hit something hard. It felt metallic and made a soft pling as he came into contact with the invisible foe. He fell towards the ground at immense speed, he flailed around; hoping that somepony would help him, hoping for a miracle; which didn't come.

Now, Strike limped helplessly through the forest which felt like nopony had ventured through at least for a decade. As the trees thickened, he thought he heard hoofsteps behind him, he turned sharply; peering into the darkness which seemed like oblivion. Then came the harrowing, chilling laugh, which echoed around the forest, Strike's breaths quickened as he realised he was not alone. He broke into a half-hearted gallop, his body aching badly as he tried to escape from the pony or creature that laugh belonged to.

The invisible metal hit him in the chest, it left a strange tingle on his lungs as he was thrown against a large oak tree. He breathed heavily, recovering from the momentary breath deprivation. Strike realised what it was. Magic

He looked up, his eye lids drooping as the pain numbed his senses, making the world out of focus. Strike stood up, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he forced himself to walk through the pain. The laugh came again, this time it was closer, much closer. A swirling cloud of smoke descended in front on the quivering stallion; luminous eyes appeared from within the cloud. A tall mare, with flowing starry hair stepped from the cloud, her skin was of the darkest night and her eyes were Ivy green, with snake-like pupils which would strike fear into anyponies heart. She wore shiny armour, which covered the majority of her head and body; sharp white fangs protruded from her mouth.

"Hello, there. Young Man. Are you lost?" She smirked sarcastically, her eyes glistening in the moon light.

Strike didn't need a second glance at the monstrosity to know who she was; Nightmare Moon. He bolted in the opposite direction, forgetting about the pain in his hooves and wing, but fell over his own hooves and tumbled into the presiding blackberry bushes.

"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real" Strike murmured, his eyes tightly shut "Nightmare Moon, isn't real."

The once gentle wind, was now harsh; teasing leaves from their mothering branches. Strike opened his eyes feebly, giggling nervously as he got to his feet.

"Just a dream" he smiled softly "Just a dre-"

Suddenly, the stallion was hoisted from the bushes and into the air, the same magic feeling was felt again; this time all over his hurting body. His whole body was enveloped in an invisible, giant hoof, which brought him towards the darkly beautiful mare. She brought him face to face with her; so he could feel her cool breath as she spoke;

"Do you know what tonight is, stallion?" She pronounced eagerly.

Strike struggled to get away, but the magic seemed to have a lot of strength. He couldn't look directly at her; he still believed it was a dream, but the pain made it so real.

"It's t-t-he sum-m-mer sun c-c-celebration" he spoke, trying to sound brave, but he came out in a quivering stutter.

"Yes, but tonight marks the thousandth year of my imprisonment and do you know why there were no stars in the sky?"

"B-b-because they aided-d in your escape" he whispered, Strike used to be a bookworm before he joined the wonderbolt's academy; he would sit in the library and read for hours. It was also him, and a purple unicorn that would have to be ushered out by the library staff at closing time. 'The Tales and Legends of Equestria" was one of his favourite books too, so he knew nearly ever tale ever made.

"Very Good."

The mare then began to walk, her coat almost blending into the dark forestry around them. Strike was still levitating a metre from the floor, but he was now behind Nightmare moon. The stallion looked to the skies, eager to find a Pegasus that would be flying over the Everfree forest; however almost everypony was at the summer sun celebrations. Yet, now the stars were twinkling brightly, like diamonds of the ocean. He had always loved looking at the bright little lights, yet now he found himself hating them. The way they all twinkled at different speeds wasn't fascinating or beautiful; it was irritating.

Then the mare, which was holding him hostage, began to sing;

Come little children

I’ll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children

The time’s come to play

Here in my garden of shadows

Follow, sweet children

I’ll show thee the way

Through all the pain and the sorrows

Weep not poor children

For life is this way

Murdering beauty and passions

The lament, which he had seen in books before was strangely satisfying. Strike tried to fight the pushing urge to sleep, but his eyelids became heavy and his vision faded slightly as he was forced into a silent, but haunted sleep.