Sweet to Eat: Tales of Nightmare Night

Chapters

Wonderful
Aurora
Sweet to Eat
Casket Case

Wonderful

Sweet to Eat
Tales of Nightmare Night

Tale I
Wonderful

Hoity Toity leaned forward and lowered his sunglasses just enough so that his friend could see his eyes. "I say, old chap, are you all right?"

Full Spectrum's head rose swiftly, his green wings fluffing in his alarm. "What? Oh, yes."

The fashion critic frowned before taking a sip of his tea. "Really, Spectrum? I'll have you know that my eye sees more than the taste of your clothes. Speak plainly, my friend."

Spectrum shifted, his eyes flitting about wildly. He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd put a sign on his forehead that read 'Help Me!' Even so, he wouldn't respond, his lips working frantically. He lifted his tea cup; it shook in his hooves. He raised it to his lips, stared into it, then promptly put it back on the table.

Hoity sighed and set his own teacup down, then pulled his sunglasses onto his forehead so he could level Spectrum with a proper stare.

"You've spent the entire night acting like a studio intern who mixed his powder blue with his non-photo blue and doesn't want to be caught. You invited me to your home, Spectrum, and I do not believe it was to share tea and extract."

He emphasized his point by flicking some ash from his poison joke extract stick into the ashtray between them; Spectrum's remained largely untouched.

Spectrum swept a hoof over his dark orange mane and gave a giddy laugh. His eyes were wide. "Am I that obvious, Toity?"

Hoity answered with a bemused frown.

"It's not like I can't handle myself, y'know." Spectrum's eyes drifted away once more. They kept going to a particular corner of the room. "I mean... I don't want to tell. But I do. I brought you here to show—tell—but I don't want. Should. I should."

"You sound confused," Hoity muttered. "And confusing."

"I know, I know." His friend reached up to rub his forehead with a grimace. He grabbed his tea and took a drink before his shaking hooves could spill any, then dropped it to the table with a clink.

At last he spoke. "Toity, I have found something. Something wonderful. It is at once compelling and commanding, and I... I feel an intense need to obey."

Hoity's eyebrows rose as he took a puff of extract. "It sounds more like a curse."

Spectrum leaned forward, and for a moment he stared at the table between them with wide eyes. "It is a curse, but it's a wonderful curse. I should show you, I really should. I don't want to—"

He jerked to his hooves so quickly his chair clattered to the floor, his face livid. "You can't have it! It's mine! It speaks to me!"

Hoity nearly dropped his extract stick and had to scramble to keep from burning himself. Before he could manage a proper response, Spectrum was sitting once more with his head in his hooves.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... it makes me..." Spectrum shook his head violently. "I'm sorry, Hoity. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked you to come here."

"On the contrary—" Hoity moved about the table quickly and set a hoof to his friend's shoulder "—I'm glad you asked me here, Spectrum. We've been friends since college, old boy! I'll help you get through whatever it is you've become involved in."

"Help me?" Spectrum looked up at him, his face painted with misery. "I'm not sure I want to be helped. I just... I want to share. No, I don't... do. Don't?" He groaned and rubbed his head once more. "I wish it would leave me in peace for at least one night."

"Come on, up you go." Hoity helped Spectrum stand and pulled the chair up from the floor. As soon as Spectrum was back in his seat, he said, "Now talk to me. What is this curse that troubles you so much?"

Spectrum stared at his near-empty teacup. After a while he grabbed his extract stick and took a deep drag. The smoke came out of his lips in large, ungainly puffs. It didn't seem to help; the stick shook in his hoof.

"I can't," he said at last, averting his eyes. "Not yet. Not tonight. I thought I might, but... t-tomorrow. I'll feel better and stronger tomorrow."

Hoity studied Spectrum for several seconds. He was pale as a ghost, and still his eyes were flicking to that particular corner of the room. His mane, usually neat and slicked, was now wild and filled with split hairs. His suit, usually crisp, was coated in abysmal wrinkles that on any normal day would have made Spectrum feel faint from embarrassment.

At last Hoity sat back in his own seat. He stared at Spectrum, waiting until the pony looked him right in the eyes before asking, "Can't you at least give me a feel for it? Let me know what I'm getting myself into."

Spectrum sucked down a deep breath, his eyes never leaving those of his friend. His words sounded hollow as he spoke so very slowly. "It's like being in a cage of my own mind. It came quietly at first, hardly recognizable, and I made no attempt to deal with it. But the influence grew, and now I'm in a deep pit trying to claw out. Yet... the ideas."

His eyes lowered once more, a smile coming to his lips. "It talks to me, Hoity. It fills me with such terrible, wonderful ideas. I am repulsed as much as I am enthralled! I don't want to do what it tells me, but at the same time I want to do it so badly. Half of my mind is screaming for release, but it's so... wonderful. Share it. It wants me to share it, share it with you. I can't. Can. Can't. So pleasing horrible pretty nasty wonderful."

Hoity's eyes widened at his friend's erratic tones. He almost sounded…

"Calm down, Spectrum. Calm down."

"Calm? Calm is for the unenlightened." Spectrum's eyes met his once more, that odd smile becoming a foul grin. "I'll show you. It wants me to stop don't think it think it don't—"

"Spectrum!"

Hoity banged his hoof to the table.

Spectrum jumped as if hit by a jolt of electricity. He blinked a few times, shook his head... and set it in his hooves. "Goddess, Hoity, what is wrong with me?"

Hoity leaned forward to touch Spectrum's hoof. "Have you spoken to anypony about this? Seen a doctor?"

Spectrum didn't move. "And tell them what? That I'm being compelled to do things? Gruesome, wonderful things? They'll think I'm mad. M-maybe I am mad. I shouldn't have looked. Oh Goddess, Hoity, why did I look?"

Hoity moved about the table once more and hefted Spectrum to his hooves. Spectrum hung limp like a deflated balloon, hardly able to stay standing.

"I'm glad you called me, old boy. Come, it's late. I'll see you to bed. I can stay up with you if you'd—"

"No." Spectrum shook his head slowly. "No, not you. It wants me to share it with you. I can't. I shouldn't. No..."

"Come to bed, Spectrum." He guided the pony out of the lounge. "I'll take the next room over. In the morning we'll get you some help. How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know..." Spectrum heaved a shuddery breath. "Can't... don't... was it yesterday? Last week? When did I first look? Want to share... don't look. Don't look."

"I won't look," Hoity offered, willing to say anything just then to calm his friend down. "I promise, Spectrum, I won't look."

Hoity stared at the ceiling, Spectrum’s erratic behavior occupying his thoughts. He’d never seen the stallion so spooked, and he’d known Spectrum since they were being nearly bored to death in old professor Nip Tuck’s ‘Fashion Legacy’ classes. He’d always been a confident, brave character. The individual sleeping in the next room wasn’t the same pony by any stretch of the imagination.

He’d sent a letter to Dr. Crane, their shared physician, but he knew the old unicorn wouldn’t arrive until morning. For now, all Hoity could do was wait… and fret. Spectrum had tossed and turned for hours, and more than once he’d gone to stand outside Spectrum’s door and listen. He’d heard the stallion mumbling in his sleep, but any attempts to wake him were fruitless, partially because he’d locked his bedroom door.

Hoity rested on his side, his hoof toying absent-mindedly with the silk sheets. His eyes traced the edge of the massive bed, then went to the grand window with its beautiful wooden inlays. He noted the tall wardrobe made from exquisite – and exquisitely expensive – eastern cherry. Every item in the room was a masterpiece, hammering home the fact that Spectrum was by no means in any kind of financial trouble. He’d never married either, with no family to call upon.

What had changed? Where was Spectrum’s mind slipping to? When he’d asked Hoity to come over for dinner, this wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting.

The door creaked open.

Sitting up, Hoity looked to see a figure in the shadows. He recognized his friend instantly.

“Spectrum, you shouldn’t be about.”

Full Spectrum remained silent, slowly stepping into the room. He held what appeared to be a thick book in one hoof. He stared at Hoity with wide eyes, lips firmly closed in a thin line.

Hoity slipped off the bed, ears low. “Spectrum?”

Spectrum thrust the book forward with shaking hooves. “I have to show you.”

Slowly, uncertainly, Hoity took the book in both hooves. He examined its worn leather cover, but it held no title. He turned it to look at the spine, also devoid of words or even an author’s name.

He tilted his head at Spectrum and raised the book a little. “What is this?”

“It’s incredible.” Spectrum’s words came quickly, wildly. “Shows me. So much. Share it, it tells me to share it. With you. I want don’t with you.”

“You’re rambling, again.” Hoity patted Spectrum’s shoulder and tried to usher him for the door. “Let’s go back to bed.”

His friend didn’t seem to hear him; he pushed the book towards Hoity’s face with a grin, his eyes still disturbingly wide. “Show it. Show it! It’s wonderful. Remember your promise show it look don’t look. In my head, always in my head, can’t ignore it. How it whispers, yes, sultry sweet lace in my brain.”

Hoity glowered and stepped back, observing as Spectrum continued to point and ramble, presumably about the book. He had no idea what was going on, but if it would calm the stallion down…

“Very well, cease your nonsense! I’ll give it a look.”

He sat and, holding the book up with one leg, opened it. As with the cover, there was no title or author. There wasn’t even a prologue; from the very first page, the words came to him. He looked over the first paragraph.

Sunlight shining in the eyes. The rainbows splay out from the puppet. Glorious, it’s perfectly glorious. Watch how the baker bakes, how the pyramid slices, how the dream man claws. A wonderful tapestry of red ribbons erupting from the freshly opened sleeve. Piles in the grass, on the bedsheets foaming with soap. Your fellows dance in the blinding light, their tails are paintbrushes. The bed becomes a canvas for the ribbon, becomes the ribbon, the puppets lie still. Their cords are cut. Take the cords, wrap them about your legs.

Hoity shook his head, mind aching from the sheer nonsense of what he was reading. He hardly noticed Spectrum slipping something out from beneath his wing as he flipped a few pages. No pictures, just lines upon lines of constant, rambling insanity in different hoofstyles. What in Equestria’s name was this?

“Spectrum, I must admit to being muddled.”

Spectrum’s voice came to his ears, low and slow. “You broke your promise.”

“My promise?” Hoity looked up with a frown… then felt his eyebrows rise at the sight of a long kitchen knife in Spectrum’s hoof. “Spectrum?”

“You looked.” Spectrum was still as stone, his expression unreadable in the dark. “You promised. You looked.”

“You asked me to look.” Hoity closed the book as his eyes flitted nervously to the knife. “Why do you have that knife?”

“I want to share it,” Spectrum replied, a slow smile coming to his lips. “It wants me to share it. Can you see it? You can. The bright, the light, the glorious sights. Do you see it in me? I see it in you.”

Hoity stood, very slowly. His stomach did tiny flips and a very real worry began to invade his mind. This wasn’t his friend… it couldn’t be. He set the book down on the bed and reached a hoof forward, aimed at Spectrum’s chest. “Now… everything’s fine, old boy. I can see it, okay? Just… give me the knife.”

Spectrum’s grin grew even wider. It was demented and filled Hoity with a certain dread. “You can see it?”

“Yes, I can see it.” Hoity worked to keep calm as he gestured invitingly. “The knife, Spectrum. Look at me, give me the knife.”

Those big, wild eyes lowered, the knife came up. Spectrum examined the blade as if it were a work of art, that hideous grin never fading. “This isn’t a knife. It’s a tool.”

Hoity paused, eyes going to the knife, then to Spectrum’s awed face. “A tool for what?”

Spectrum’s head rose, his eyes locked with Hoity’s. The grin faded.

“I thought you said you could see.”

A moment of tense silence passed between the stallions; Hoity, holding perfectly still and on alert, and Spectrum, abruptly solemn.

Without warning, Spectrum lurched forward. Hoity jerked sideways, shouting as the blade was buried in his shoulder. He cringed and held his hoof to the blade, but Spectrum kept it in place as he gazed with those monstrous eyes.

“See it flow,” Spectrum whispered in Hoity’s ear. “It’s a fountain, a beautiful, lovely fountain of ribbons! I’m sharing it with you. Isn’t it wonderful, my friend? Isn’t it wonderful?”

He pulled back, and the knife came out smoothly. Hoity fell back against the bed and clutched at the wound with a shaky hoof while gasping for air. He gaped up at the pony who used to be his friend.

Spectrum rotated the knife through the air, his eyes tracing the movements as that grin slowly came back. Blood trickled to the wooden floor.

“Drip drip. Drip drip.”

Spectrum raised the knife high, examining it like a trophy. “So bright, so brilliant. You must see it. See it. Share it. Love it.”

Hoity lifted himself up, though his legs shook and his heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the blood on his hoof, then at Spectrum. “W-what happened to you?”

Spectrum’s hoof lowered, his eyes snapped to Hoity’s. “You don’t see it. I have to share. Why don’t you see it?”

“See what?”

“More.” Spectrum raised the knife and approached, a frown on his face. “Maybe you need more. Share it. See it.”

Hoity shouted and climbed backwards onto the bed, kicking at Spectrum as he struggled to get away; Spectrum slashed, his knife nicking Hoity’s leg. He climbed on top of the bed in pursuit.

“More. More. Look at it. More.”

“Get away from me!”

Hoity’s hoof touched air and he fell over the edge of the bed in a heap. He rolled onto his back and looked up just in time to see his assailant’s face appear over the sheets. His panicked kicks were just in time to catch Spectrum’s face and leg; the knife went flying and blood spurted from the stallion’s muzzle.

Hoity crawled away as Spectrum reeled from the blow. His mind screamed at him to flee, and he wasn’t about to argue! He picked himself up and limped around the bed as fast as his three good legs could carry him. He opened his mouth to call for help, but his words were reduced to a cry as he was tackled from the side.

“Spectrum!” He rolled onto his back and kicked, fighting to keep the pegasus’ hooves at bay. “Spectrum, it’s me, Hoity! For the love of Celestia, stop!”

“No more tool.” Spectrum was once again ignorant of his pleas. “Hooves are sloppy, but work.” He managed to work his hooves past Hoity’s frantic kicking and pressed them against the prone stallion’s throat. “There’s pretty yellow yolk in this one. Squeeze it out!”

Hoity gasped as he found his air passage blocked. He pulled at the hooves, but even his adrenalin couldn’t make up for the wound in his shoulder. He gazed up with moist, begging eyes as his lips worked soundlessly.

“Don’t you see it?” Spectrum’s horrible grin returned. “The beauty, the glory, the joy! See what you give me, oh delightful puppet. Feel my love, for I love you so much!”

Hoity tried to scream, to beg, to cry out, to utter any sound at all, but it was a pointless endeavor. His chest heaved as his lungs fought for air. His eyes rolled about, to the bed, to the door, to the ceiling, to the face of his attacker. He was about to die, and he didn’t even understand why.

His head shifted, almost unintentionally, and his eyes locked on the book. It had fallen on the hardwood floor, open and innocuous. For a few desperate seconds, Hoity gaped at it. His blood pounded in his ears; his mouth opened and closed like a fish; his legs fought with weakening strength for freedom, but his eyes remained on the book.

He couldn’t look away. He thought he could see something… just the tiniest hint of a light…

The knife. It was right there.

Hoity’s hoof moved on instinct, clutching the blade’s handle and thrusting. The weapon plunged into Spectrum’s left side, sliding neatly between the ribs under a wing.

Eyes bulging, a gasp flew from the would-be murderer’s lips, but he kept his hold.

Hoity stabbed again. And again. And again. He was distinctly aware of the weak resistance the flesh made for him, of the warm liquid dripping onto his chest. Tears welled in Hoity’s eyes as he kept thrusting the blade over and over, his movements weakening as the hooves around his throat refused to release.

But then Spectrum collapsed on top of him, the grip weakening at last. The knife clattered to the bloody floor and Hoity sucked in a long, eager breath.

Seconds passed in the dark. Hoity’s chest rose and fell in a steady, heavy rhythm as he gaped up at the ceiling with unseeing, wide eyes. Through the pounding of the blood in his ears he could make out Spectrum’s slow, ragged breaths.

One last whisper came from the demented pegasus’ lips: “Wonderful.”

Spectrum went still.

Hoity lay there for the rest of the night, staring blankly beneath his friend’s seeping body as his fractured mind sought to make some semblance of sense out of what just occurred.

“Mr. Toity!”

Hoity jumped, coming out of his trance to find himself staring into magenta sunglasses surrounded by a white mane. “W-what, yes?”

Photo Finish lowered her sunglasses to peer at him with her piercing indigo eyes. “You zoned out on me again, darling. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Oh… yes, sorry.” He shook his head before offering a weak smile. “Sorry, Finish. I didn’t mean to wander.”

He turned his eyes to the studio, where assorted ponies were taking down props and models were making their haughty way to their dressing rooms. He winced as he realized he must have missed half the photo shoot.

Photo Finish continued to eye him from over her glasses, lips pursed in a deep frown. At last she pushed the sunglasses back to their usual position and smiled. “I understand, Mr. Toity. Lots of zings on ze mind, ja? You’ve been keeping busy zese last four monz, I know.”

Hoity tried to brush the hidden suggestion off with a dashing pose. “But of course I have! One must work hard to maintain reputations such as ours. I dare to think—”

He blinked as she thrust a hoof before his face. “Nein nein, I shall hear no more. You need a vacation, zis I insist!”

His jaw dropped, and this time it was his turn to stare at her from over his sunglasses. “A… vacation? Me?”

“But of course.” She nodded with that ever-confident expression she was so good at. “A little time for Hoity Toity vill do him good. ’Tis vhat I, Photo Finish, recommend.”

He chuckled and pushed her hoof back. “I think Hoity Toity is the one who decides when he is ready for a vacation.”

“Vhat is zis, a democracy?” Finish thrust her head back with a commanding frown. “Nein, I shall have none of it. Vacation, you, now.”

Hoity took a step back, a tiny fear creeping into the back of his mind at her insistence. “What if I don’t want a vacation?”

Finish promptly turned to the ponies in the studio and – with a sharp gesture of her leg – shouted, “Leave us now, you go! All of you, go, go.”

A low groan escaped Hoity’s lips; he really had no interest in having this conversation. He watched as Finish’s crew departed with characteristic haste while he fought to keep from fidgeting. His eyes roamed in every possible direction except Finish’s.

Photo Finish did something that very few ponies ever got the pleasure of witnessing: she removed her sunglasses. She sighed as she turned to Hoity with a concerned gaze. “Listen, Hoity. I get it, ja? You cannot vork your vay zrough zis.”

He offered a smug smile. “Work my way through what, my dear?”

Her lips pursed, her brilliant indigo eyes going sharp. “Hoity.”

Hoity turned away from that gaze, head low as he felt that familiar icy grip in his chest.

Finish sighed once more and sat next to him, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “It’s been four monz, Hoity. You’re not any better, you see? Hard vork von’t make it go avay.”

He trembled at her touch. “I know… but I don’t want to be alone. I keep seeing it, over and over again. I want to know why.”

“Have you spoken to nopony about zis?” She leaned a little closer, trying to look him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t match her gaze. “You’ve at least seen a doctor, ja?”

“And tell them what?” At last he was able to look her in the eye. “I don’t need a psychiatrist, Finish.”

She leaned back with a small pout. “Zhen vhat do you need?”

“I…” Hoity sagged and shook his head in defeat. “I don’t know.”

“Zen you take a vacation.” She nudged him with a hopeful smile. “Zere is nozing for you to lose.”

He fidgeted, yet again finding it hard to meet her gaze. Being alone at home was the last thing he wanted. “I suppose… I could travel somewhere.”

“Ja! Das ist gut!” Finish’s mane rocked with her enthusiastic nodding. “Visit family, visit friends, go to Prance, but do somezing, my friend. It breaks hearts seeing you so gloomy.”

“All right, I get it.” He smiled for her, a real smile this time. “I’ll take the advice of the fabulous Photo Finish and take a break. Know that I don’t do so easily.”

“Of course you vill, darling.” She put her sunglasses back on and shot him a winning smile. “Nopony disagrees viz Photo Finish!”

They parted ways, but not before Photo Finish made him swear to the Sisters that he would follow her instructions and take some time off. As hard as it was to believe, he was actually rather pleased with it. Hoity had a number of friends, but most of them were more like acquaintances. Finish was one of the half-dozen ponies he’d met who he legitimately liked spending time with, and her show of concern was touching.

Yet as he left the studio, he found himself confronted by an acquaintance of an entirely different variety. She was an earth pony with a cream coat and a mane that, after some inspection, he determined to be ‘denim’ blue. She had the odd, narrow eyes that was typical of the Everfree Isles, and they distinguished her to such a degree that he readily recognized her as one of Photo Finish’s crew. The young mare walked beside him, batting her eyes and offering a charming smile.

Hoity knew that look. He’d seen it in a hundred mares throughout his career, and had taken advantage of it on more than one occasion.

He feigned ignorance and offered a patient smile. “Can I help you, Miss?”

“Actually,” she said in a smug, sultry tone, “I was thinking we could help one another.”

Hoity glanced down a side street to hide his grin.

He wouldn’t be spending this night alone after all.

Every time Hoity got into bed with a mare from the Everfree Isles, he came out of the experience with one thought on his mind: that island nation’s overpopulation made perfect sense. In that regard, tonight was no different. But the mare in question? Oh, she was very different. Most who joined his bed were naïve wannabes clinging to an ignorant hope that putting out would net them a modeling gig.

Not Powder Rouge; she knew exactly what she was after and what she was getting into. The fact that he remembered her name was enough to let Hoity know she was somepony special. Confident, demanding, witty, determined and focused; if her qualities on a studio were up to par with her bedtime skills, this one might be worth a lot more than his usual ‘donation.’ For the first time in a while, he was actually considering pulling a string or two.

Yet even the nubile form sleeping next to him wasn’t fascinating enough of a distraction. Hoity found himself staring at the ceiling, not feeling very sleepy. He could feel it, a tiny temptation that nagged and pulled and teased at his mind. He clutched at his sheets, face firm as he fought the urge to climb out of bed. What was it that kept sticking to his mind so seductively?

Every night he’d been at it. He could almost see that malicious grin. Spectrum’s voice echoed in his ears, random and pointless and frightening… yet alluring. What had his former friend been trying to tell him? There was a dark suspicion in his mind, an idea that knowing was a scary thing.

Even so… he wanted to know.

At last Hoity could take it no longer; he threw off the sheets and crept his way out of the room.

The mansion was dark as he moved down the hall, the long shadows passing over his face. A half-moon shone through the windows, filling the world with enough light for him to see without a candle. He passed by the steps and entered his library, his legs moving almost without any thought on his part. The path came instinctually, Hoity following that infernal, familiar tug on his brain.

It was sitting in a corner shelf, innocuous among all the other tomes. Hoity didn’t know why he’d kept it, or why he’d not mentioned anything about it to the authorities. Maybe if he had they would have determined why Spectrum went crazy. Perhaps Hoity thought he himself could solve the mystery. He couldn’t be sure why, but now the thing was here in his library, untouched since that horrible night.

Hoity sat in the corner and stared at the book, as he had so many nights before. His hooves itched; his eyes traced the edge of the leather spine. He wanted to look. He didn’t dare, but he wanted to. Why did he want to? That strange urge in his mind was so insistent, so subtly demanding…

He should be in bed. He should be taking it easy, not staring at this book.

Yet stare he did, stare as the shadows gradually shifted with the moon’s slow, methodical ascension. He couldn’t move for his inexplicable fascination, couldn’t think but to fight the urge to open the book. Just like he did every night, Hoity considered throwing the damnable thing into a fireplace and striking a match. More than once he reached up with the intention of doing so, but every time a numbing fear would come over him and he’d lower his hoof from the shelf.

It was getting late. He knew it was getting late.

He should go to bed. He turned to do so…

…and abruptly found his hoof touching the soft leather. Hoity gazed at it, wondering how it had ended up there. He wanted to pull away almost as much as he wanted to follow through and take the book down.

Long seconds passed as he simply sat there, maybe minutes.

“Walk away,” he whispered to himself. “Just… just walk away.”

His hoof pulled the book down, and Hoity let out a small gasp. Long, slow breaths arose from his lungs as he gazed at the leather-bound thing, which was heavy in his hooves. He couldn’t open it – he shouldn’t. It scared him, and he didn’t even know why.

Spectrum’s voice laughed in his ears as he fought for air…

The book opened. He flipped to the first page, his legs moving seemingly on their own in slow, methodical motions. His eyes flitted across the words…

“Sir?”

Hoity jerked awake, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His back ached and his mouth was dry as sandpaper. Slowly, grumbling, he sat up in his seat; his hoof just manage to catch the book before it slipped off his knee. “Yes… what is it, Hemphry?”

The servant stared ruefully at Hoity, lips set in what was coming to be a familiar frown. “You have a guest, sir. Miss Finish seeks a word with you.”

Hoity popped his neck with a small groan and stood up, carefully placing the book on the nearby stool. He glowered at Hemphry and considered telling him to send Photo Finish away; he didn’t want any interruptions, he’d already mentioned that. His eye passed over the book longingly… but then he thought of Finish.

She was the kind of mare who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Very well, see her in.”

Hemphry bowed and left without a word.

Hoity took a moment to fix his mane in the nearby bathroom mirror. He realized he’d not touched it in almost four days.

Four days.

Had it really been that long?

“Hoity! Vhere are you? You have some explaining to do!”

He winced at the irksome voice and trudged back into the library. He flinched yet again as the morning sun pierced his eyes from the window. Perhaps he would order the shades drawn after she left…

“I’m here, Finish. Do tell me what kind of explanation I owe.”

She stood in the center of the room. When she turned to face him her scowl made him pause.

“Vhat are you doing in Canterlot? I zought I told you to take a vacation.”

He returned her scowl. “Do you see me working?”

Finish tilted her head and lowered her glasses to study him, her harshness fading. “You’ve been up to somezing, ja? You’re a mess, my friend.”

“That’s what happens when you spend a few days not caring.” His eyes lingered on the closed book behind her, but he jerked them away. “I’ve just been doing a lot of… reading.”

“Zis is not ze appearance of a stallion on vacation,” she pressed, stepping closer to examine him a little better. “Vhat is wrong viz you?”

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped back. “Here I am, doing my very best to follow your orders and relax, and you come to disturb me.”

She whacked him on the side of the head, not enough to hurt but more than enough to catch his attention.

“You vill not speak to Photo Finish in such a manner! Vhat happened to you? Zis is not ze Hoity Toity I know. Perhaps I should drag you to ze doctor myself if you are so stubborn.”

Hoity shook his head, trying to get the initial shock of the blow to fade. When he looked up he felt as if he were seeing an entirely different pony before him. “F-Finish? What…”

He turned away, his eyes going to the window. It was a bright, beautiful day out. Why did he think the sun so glaring a few seconds ago? “I… I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“Zat makes two of us.” Finish stepped up beside him and peered at his face. He shuffled his hooves under her scrutiny. “Zis is not going vell.”

“I—” He turned, about to snap at her again, but caught himself and jerked his face away. He set a hoof to his forehead and grimaced at the sick feeling in his stomach. He realized his hoof was shaking. “What… what is happening to me?”

Finish sighed and sat, shaking her head. “Vhen vone of my assistants said you vere still in town, I came immediately. I feared you veren’t doing vell. Clearly my suspicion vas correct, ja?”

“Clearly.” He gave her a fretful look, barely able to keep his eyes from shifting towards the book over her shoulder. “I thought I was doing fine, but now that you’ve arrived—”

She raised a hoof, her expression somber. “You still refuse to see ze doctor?”

“I’m not sick in the head,” he growled, but without conviction. “I’m just… trying to sort things out.”

Finish frowned, but it lasted only a second before shifting to a pleasant smile. “Zen come vith me. Ve’ll have dinner tonight. Fancy Pants is arranging a zing at a place, very posh-posh, cheer you right up. Ve even get to listen to ze opera. Das ist gut, ja?”

He fidgeted, unable to keep his eyes from flicking again to the book. “I’m not so certain. I mean, I do adore the opera, and anything put on by Fancy is bound to be a delightful soireé. Yet I don’t know that I’m up for leaving the house…”

Finish scoffed. “Nonzense, darling. Ze fresh air vill do you good.”

Hoity stared at her for a couple seconds, then slowly gained a smile. “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”

She grinned. “Vhen do I ever?”

That night the impossible happened: Hoity found one of Fancy Pants’ parties entirely boring. All night he pretended to be pleased to be there, smiling in the faces of mindless sycophants and offering the stray comment when necessary, but all he really wanted was to go home. Yet he didn’t dare, for he knew Photo Finish was watching him, even though she was pretending to enjoy the evening.

Hoity examined them all from a corner as he sipped on wine that was strangely not up to Fancy’s usual quality. The elite ponies strolled about in their garish clothes, chatting and acting all self-appreciative. A week ago Hoity would have been amongst them all, but tonight the sight of them made his stomach churn.

How had he not seen it before? Their pompous mannerisms, their arrogant thoughts veiled in honeyed words. It was all so hideously transparent, and Hoity wanted nothing to do with them.

Then there were the outfits. So bland, so obvious, so typical. Hoity realized that he’d been blind all these years. That mare in the red dress, he knew that dress, had actually given it high marks in one of his reviews. Now he scowled at it, his eyes taking in the tired angle of the skirt, the lazy stitching, the dull gemstones. How repulsive; what had he been thinking?

Even Fancy Pants didn’t hold his usual glamour, what with his overbearing silk suit and that hideous moustache. His once-charming smile was now oozing with deception. Lies. Every word on his lips, lies.

It was then that Hoity understood that he was better than this, better than them.

He blinked, thinking he saw something unusually bright. He peered through the crowds… then gaped at the green face staring through the rancid mob.

Full Spectrum stared at him, lips spread in a grin. Those eyes bored into Hoity’s mind like a menacing claw, and the world brightened.

Show them.

Hoity stepped back, his mouth working soundlessly as he saw it; beautiful, streaming colors. It was as though every object in the world had been touched by a rainbow. It was fascinating, it was—

“Hoity?”

He jerked out of his reverie, the colors fading in a flash of gloominess. He looked down to see Photo Finish holding his shoulder with a concerned frown.

“What?”

She leaned a little closer. “Are you all right? Vhat’s wrong?”

He blinked and looked down to discover that he’d dropped his wine, the red liquid streaking across the stones amidst shards of glass. His eyes widened slowly as the wine shimmered with some unknown light, the shards like brilliant diamonds that—

“Hoity, stay viz us.”

He shivered and looked up to find that everypony at the party was staring at them. His eyes traced the crowd, but there was no sign of the haunting image he’d seen.

“I’m sorry, I…” Hoity pressed a hoof to his forehead, which abruptly began to throb. “I didn’t mean to cause a commotion.”

“Do you need to zit down?”

Hoity shook his head, wincing at the pain the act produced. “N-no… I think I just need some air. I should probably go home.”

Finish’s frown deepened a touch, but she nodded. “Yes… Yes, perhaps you are right. Come, I vill bring you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You do not argue viz me.” Though her voice was a whisper, her tone was harsh. He nodded his acquiescence and let her drag him away.

During the long and quiet walk home, Hoity found himself wondering just what had come over him. Why was he seeing Full Spectrum? He hardly believed in ghosts, but he may very well have just seen one. Was he being haunted for some reason?

He considered telling Finish what he’d seen, but decided against it. She was trying to take care of him, and despite his earlier anger – why had he been so angry with her? – he was truly appreciative. It wouldn’t do to worry her with this.

Depression and anxiety were one thing, but now he was seeing bucking ghosts.

He paused at his door, soon opened by Hemphry. Finish wouldn’t let him go without one last plea, “Go and see ze doctor. You are not vell.”

He sighed and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Maybe I will. To be honest, this is all getting a little ridiculous.”

Finish’s entire body sagged. “Ist gut to hear you say zis. You set ze schedule, und in a couple days you come see me und tell me all about it.”

“I will,” Hoity assured her. “Thank you, Finish. I know I’ve been difficult these past few months.”

She smirked and struck one of her classy poses. “Please, darling, ponies like ze two of us are supposed to be difficult. Now, off viz you, get some rest! I do not vant to see you until you have seen ze doctor, ja?”

As Hoity stumbled inside, Hemphry gave him a concerned look. “Shall I prepare a bath, sir?”

Hoity considered the option for a few seconds, noting how his shoulders sagged. “No… not tonight. I think I’ll be going straight to bed. Thank you, Hemphry.”

“Of course. Good night, sir.”

Hoity trudged his way to the stairs, head hanging low. The headache had been reduced to a mere shadow of what it had been, but it seemed determined to linger. A doctor… yes, he should see a doctor. First thing in the morning. He would—

He blinked as his body turned almost against his will at the top of the stairs. He slowly raised his head and realized he was facing his library door.

A distinct alarm came to his mind.

He slowly backed away.

Morning.

In the library.

Hoity stared at the book. He had been for over an hour, just staring. The urge to read it was so incredibly strong, just strong enough to outweigh his urgent desire to burn it.

His hooves reached forward. It was a slow, trembling motion. He told himself to stop, to ignore it, to walk away. His breath came in gasps as he struggled with himself. This book, this terrible, incredible thing... He wanted to scream, to call for help, but no sound would escape his lips.

His hoof touched the leather, and before he knew it he was sitting by the window and reading intently. He didn’t bother starting where he’d left off, instead opening to a random page and going over the contents with an almost feverish need.

They dance, they dance, see them dance, twirling and whirling like marionettes. Ribbons from their wrists. Ribbons from their necks. They dance, they dance. I see shimmers, you see shadows. We see the same. We are linked. We love them. They dance, they dance. Wonderful.

Wooden mouths open wide. Music. Hear the tone. Variation. Harmony. Concert, orchestra, symphony. All the ribbons, shadows, glimmers. We see them, how beautiful they are.

They dance, they dance.

Here come the puppets, their rainbows explosive. Eyes water. We cry, we love.

Share it. Share it and they will love. Love them, give them ribbons. Give them rainbows. Look through their windows, see their love. Do you see it?

I see it.

You see it.

Share it.

“Sir?”

Hoity’s head rose with a jerk and he found himself staring at Hemphry. “What? Can’t you see I’m reading?”

The older stallion shifted with a nervous glance at the book. “My apologies, sir, but I believe you wanted me to arrange an appointment with the doctor? I scheduled it for this afternoon.”

“Doctor?” Hoity thought back, wondering what the miserable sod was talking about. Then he remembered his brief conversation with Finish the night before and scowled. “No, I don’t need a doctor. Leave me be!”

“But sir, I—”

Hoity glared at him.

“As you wish, sir. Lunch should be ready in a few minutes.”

Hoity raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention to the old grandfather clock in the corner. He peered in mild disbelief at the black hands on that worn yellow clock face; it was just past noon. Had he really lost track of time so easily? He considered the situation, his eye roaming to the book open before him.

“No lunch for today, Hemphry.”

The insufferable stallion stood by for several seconds, fidgeting as he considered Hoity.

“Will there be anything else?”

“N-no… of course not, sir.”

“Then leave me be.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoity waited for the door to close before diving back into the book.

“Sir?”

Hoity groaned and didn’t bother to look up. “What is it this time, Hemphry?”

“Sir… dinner is ready.”

Dinner? Hoity glanced at the clock and saw, to his shock, that it was well past eight o’clock. He stared out the window, amazed to see Canterlot enshrouded in darkness. “By the Sisters, this book is engrossing.”

“I’ll… take your word for it, sir.”

“Yes,” Hoity grumbled, holding the book a little close to the chest and peering at his coltservant. “Yes, you will.”

Now that he wasn’t reading, Hoity became acutely aware of the hunger pangs. He frowned and glanced between the book and Hemphry, who had an expression of true worry. What a pathetic simpleton. Did he think Hoity needed his petty concern?

Still, Hoity was indeed quite hungry… but he didn’t want to stop reading. The obvious choice would be to bring the book with him, but something told him not to do that. He wanted it here, in the library, where it wasn’t on display for all those greedy, untrustworthy servants.

Well, Hemphry was an ignorant commoner, but he was loyal.

“I’ll be taking dinner here, in the library,” Hoity said, turning back to his book. “Have a plate made and bring it here personally.”

“Of... of course, sir.”

Hoity didn’t even wait for Hemphry to leave before going back to his reading.

It was inexplicable: Hoity could have sworn he’d read through the book three times already, but he kept finding new material, pages of words he’d not seen before. At first he thought it was all rambling, but slowly, beautifully, he was piecing the puzzle together. There was meaning here, hidden just beyond his reach. If he could just find it, he knew something incredible awaited him.

Hoity was an intelligent pony, far more so than any other. He would solve the problem. Already he caught glimpses, signs of a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes when Hemphry came in Hoity thought he saw that light in his coltservant. At other times he would glance up to think on a passage and believe, for just an instant, that the world had been composed of rainbows.

Oh, yes, something magnificent awaited him. He just had to peel back the layers!

He never left the library. His meals were brought to him, always and only by Hemphry. Once a servant girl tried it, and Hoity had erupted upon her with such fury that she’d left the room sobbing. He hoped Hemphry fired her.

When he grew tired he slept on the big couch in the corner. Always he kept the book with him, always he poured over its mysterious contents. Nothing could distract him, nothing could stop him!

He felt amazing just reading the maze-like contents. How would he feel once he solved the riddle?

Knowledge. That was what Hoity sought. He wanted to know, he needed to know.

Full Spectrum had been seeking it, Hoity was absolutely certain. But Spectrum had been a weak-minded, ignorant pony. He was nothing compared to Hoity’s prodigious abilities! He would solve it, oh yes.

He’d succeed where Spectrum had failed.

“Sir, you have a guest.”

Hoity looked up through his disheveled mane, glaring at his coltservant. “I thought I said no visitors! You shouldn’t even be here save to give me my meals.”

“Hoity Toity!”

He groaned as a familiar mare pushed past Hemphry. “What are you doing here?”

Photo Finish cracked her hoof over his head, a bit harder than usual. “Do not take zat tone viz me! You said you vould see a doctor, und yet I find you’ve spent all veek holed up here?”

Hoity rubbed his head and sneered. “I have no need for some shrink to talk about my dreams! I’m fine. Go away.”

“Nein.”

She jerked off her sunglasses and hit him with the full force of her powerful eyes. “Look at yourself, Hoity! You’re sick. I am trying to help you.”

He peered at her, his eyes roaming her form. “You are nothing but a nuisance. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly, zis is not so.” Finish grabbed him by the shoulders. “You are coming to ze doctor viz me, now.”

“No!” He shoved her back. She fell against Hemphry, who caught her, and they both stared with wide eyes.

Hoity stood up to glare at the both of them. “I don’t need your help, or you. Look at you, with your tacky outfits and ugly manecut. You’re a disgrace to all things fashion, Finish. I don’t know why I ever pretended to be friends with you.”

But Finish stood tall and pointed at him with her sunglasses. “Now I know somezing is wrong viz you. You love my style, you’ve alvays loved my style.”

“I was a foal!” Hoity threw up his hooves as he shouted. “I see it now, nopony in this town has any class. You’re all fashion ignoramuses! I want nothing to do with any of you. I have important work to do, and I can’t do it with all these Celestia-be-damned interruptions!”

“Hoity!” She pressed a hoof to his shoulder, her eyes pleading. “Lizen to yourself. Zis is not—”

He snatched her sunglasses from her and shoved her away once more. Before she could recover, he threw the ugly things to the floor and stomped, shattering them.

Silence filled the library. Photo Finish stared. It wasn’t a wide-eyed gaze of alarm, but a calm, depressed look of observation. There was pity in her brilliant indigo eyes.

Hoity trembled, his teeth bared.

“Get. Out.”

For a couple seconds Finish maintained her gaze. Hemphry, his hooves on her shoulders, looked between Finish and Hoity as if not sure what to do.

At last, Finish stood tall and brushed herself off. “Very well, Hoity, I shall go. Do not zink I von’t be contacting somepony about zis. Please, zink about zis. If you don’t act, I vill do it for you.”

She left without a backward glance.

Hoity turned his glare on Hemphry, who was sitting back and wringing his hooves in a pitiful display. The sight almost made Hoity lose his lunch. “You too. Get out.”

“S-sir… I—”

“Out!”

Hemphry fled, the door slamming closed.

Hoity seethed for several seconds, but slowly relaxed. He didn’t need them, he didn’t need anypony. He was fine. All he had to do was—

He paused, staring at the book that was already in his hooves. His mind crept over what he’d just done, what he’d just said. Slowly, his eyes turned to the shattered sunglasses on the floor. He could see that concerned, almost desperate look on Finish’s face. He wanted… he wanted…

To read.

No, to go to her.

No, he needed to read.

But Finish was his friend…

He didn’t need friends!

Who was he kidding?

He needed to read!

His hooves shook as sweat beaded on his brow. He let out a scream and threw the book against the wall. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he turned and bounded for the door, but when his hoof touched the knob he couldn’t turn it.

He stood there for several seconds, willing himself to open the door. His hoof began to shake again.

“W-what’s happening to me?”

Gritting his teeth, he clutched the doorknob with both hooves. “Open it, Hoity. G-get away. F-Finish… Hemph-phry…”

Hoity sank to his knees and rested his forehead against the wood, sobbing. His eye went to the book, barely visible behind a shelf. He couldn't force his eyes from it. No matter how much he willed his legs to function, even as his entire body trembled with effort, he couldn’t open that door.

“H-help… Finish… I’m s-sorry…”

His body was weak. He slumped to the floor, but he continued to clutch at the doorknob. He had to get away, he knew he did. That horrible, beautiful, terrible book… He knew Spectrum had…

Spectrum was a foal! He couldn’t solve it.

No… It wasn’t his fault. Spectrum was—

Hoity was smarter than him! Better.

He wasn’t. He had to get away…

Hoity thought he heard a giggle. His heart pounding in his chest, his lips dry, he slowly turned his head to the window.

Spectrum was staring through it, teeth bared in a hideous combination of malice and glee.

A frail whinny rose from Hoity’s throat. He shook his head with a sob. “W-what do you want from me…?”

Spectrum’s lips moved slowly, mouthing two simple words: Share it.

“Share what? I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Share it.

“Go away…” Hoity turned back to the door – his hooves still clinging to the knob – and buried his head in his legs. “G-go away. Go away. Go away. Go away!”

His eye went to the book, its leather cover taunting him. He bit his lip, shaking his head violently…

He was crawling, scrambling across the floor on his knees. Small droplets of tears formed a moist path behind him as he reached the book and hurriedly picked it up.

Hoity didn’t bother to get off the floor.

He just read.

It was all there, right in front of his face. He knew he had it, but it just… wasn’t… there. Everywhere Hoity looked, he saw the signs; a faint glimmer in that corner, the tiniest touch of color around that table, that hint of ribbon poking out of the windowsill.

He needed a key. He didn’t know what that key was, but he had to have it. He’d roamed his entire mansion – which by now was empty of all servants – seeking out inspiration that would let him breach the last mental barrier.

It was elusive.

Frustratingly, infuriatingly elusive.

It was almost maddening!

Spectrum was around every corner, peering in through windows, grinning from under tables, laughing in the wine. His old friend was taunting Hoity for not being able to solve the last piece of the book’s puzzle. If only the bastard would leave him alone!

“Mr. Toity?”

His ears twitched, he ground his teeth in frustration; how many interruptions was he going to have? He raised his head to look around, realizing he was in his lounge.

“Mr. Toity, I know you’re in here!”

He scowled at the open door. So the pony hadn’t found him yet. Maybe if he could close the—

She appeared, and his eyes widened. She stood in the door, her lips set in a stern frown. Her body was so dull it made him sick to his stomach, but her eyes! He could see it, so much color, radiating out like a million brilliant jewels!

It was there, the key. If he could unleash it, the secrets would be his!

“Goddess, you look like crap.” Powder Rouge peered at him with a snobbish sniff. “No wonder your staff left the place.”

Hoity needed to keep her around, at least for long enough to figure things out. But how?

He forced a smile to his lips. “It’s been a bad week.”

“Right.” She shook her head with a scowl. “And here I thought you might be useful to me, but no, you’re just like every other stallion. Looks like I’ll have to—”

“How did you get in here?” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

She rolled her eyes. “The front door was unlocked.”

“I see.” Dammit, her eyes were so beautiful! Blue, pink, green, yellow, purple! He had to get it out of her…

His eyes shifted; Spectrum was there, just at her side. The phantom’s grinning lips worked: Show her.

Yes… yes, that was it. He’d see it if she did.

“I can see you were a waste of my time,” Powder grumbled, turning for the hall. “I’m gone. I’ll find some other stallion worthy of my good graces.”

“Wait!”

She paused with a groan and glared at him. “What?”

He raised his forelegs in a calming gesture, slowly moving forward. “If you want to go, that’s fine, but let me show you something first.”

Powder sniffed and flicked her ugly mane. “Unless it’s going to kickstart my modeling career, I’m not interested.”

A genuinely pleased smile turned the corners of Hoity’s lips. “Ms. Rouge, if my theory is correct, then you will shine brighter than the sun.”

She blinked, her lips parting in a small ‘o.’ Her eyes roamed up and down his form. “You have my attention.”

He approached, and she backed away with a sneer.

“When was the last time you bathed, Mr. Toity?”

Hoity had far more important issues on his mind. He walked into the hall and made for the stairs. “Come, come, it’s this way. I’ll share it, you’ll love it!”

Bouncing from hoof to hoof, he led her along. Powder followed with great hesitancy, and he feared she might flee. She was his little bird, and he had to treat her delicately. He wouldn’t press her: that might spur her flight, and he needed what she had. He needed it desperately.

“Come on, little puppet,” he cooed at the top of the stairs. “You are going to shine, to glisten, to glimmer. Beautiful, it will be beautiful!”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this,” she confessed, pausing halfway up the staircase.

He had to fight to contain his grimace. “You had no difficulty joining me up here before.”

She frowned and turned her face away with a haughtiness that almost made him gag. “Teat for tat: I was expecting you to come through for me by now. This isn’t some trick to get me back in your bed, is it?”

She was so repugnant! How was it that she held the key to his glorious success?

No, once she saw, once he helped the brilliance escape that loathsome body, she would be as beautiful as he was!

“We’re not going to my bed. No, no, the bed is for fun. This is business, very important business. It must be you, don’t you see? Come on, it’s in the library.”

She hesitated a moment more, but at last continued up the stairs. He didn’t wait for her, for in her ignorance she seemed unwilling to come close. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to peel away that ugly layer and reveal the radiance within those eyes!

He hurried into the library, snatching the book from its cushioned altar. He turned to see that she had followed him, fidgeting in the center of the room.

“Here!” His hooves shook as he presented her with the book. “The secret is here. We must uncover it. Together, we can become brighter than even Celestia!”

Powder sat and took the book, frowning at its delightful leather cover. “A book? This will let me become a famous model?”

“Yes!” He fidgeted and gestured hurriedly. “Read it! It holds the information, you need only unlock it. It tells everything, is everything! Read it, read it now.”

She turned the book about in her hooves before sighing. “I’m not sure if you’re a genius or a loon. Well, here it goes…”

The book opened.

She peered at its contents.

Hoity watched her eyes, grinning from ear to ear as his heart raced. This was it, this was what he’d been waiting for! She would figure it out, she would help him achieve more greatness than he’d ever dreamed! A companion, somepony who at last understood what true beauty really was.

Seconds passed. Powder said nothing.

Hoity glanced at the clock.

A deep frown met Powder’s lips. It matched her eyes. “What the buck is this?”

The joy faded. Hoity stared at the shimmer in her eyes, a brightness that refused to budge from its prison.

She… she didn’t understand.

“Mr. Toity, I’m starting to think that maybe you need to see a doctor.”

He bowed his head, an intense weariness overwhelming him. How was he going to unlock the secrets now? He couldn’t very well force it out of her.

...could he?

Hoity’s head jerked up. He saw the rainbow-like glistening in those eyes, the way it swirled and pressed against its confines.

Yes… it needed to be freed. It was trapped. He had to show it.

“Mr. Toity—”

“Don’t stop,” he pressed, tapping the book as he moved around her. “I promise, give it a few more paragraphs. You’ll see it.”

The fireplace. The poker. Yes… yes, that would do the trick. He lifted it up, the iron comfortable in his hooves, the weigh pleasant.

Share it.

He turned about; there was Spectrum, grinning from in front of Powder. She was so busy reading that she didn’t notice him.

Share it.

Share it.

Hoity came forward, raised the poker…

“This is all nonsense.”

Powder turned about with a glower. Her brilliant, incredible eyes locked on him. They went wide, windows into a blessed realm of light and music and joy!

He barely heard the thwack of the iron against her jaw. She fell, her scream piercing and loud. He came forward, raised the weapon for a second strike.

She dodged, barely. She crawled backwards, miraculous eyes shining, beckoning. She tried to say something, but her jaw had been broken. Blood dripped from the gash beneath her lips.

The poker came down again; she raised her hooves to take the blow. She grunted and grabbed the weapon, and for a moment they struggled. Hoity’s breath came in eager gasps, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Show it. I have to show it.”

He jerked the weapon away; she kicked him in the cheek. He laughed at the pain and brought the poker down. Thwack, it struck her shoulder, the barb near the tip digging into her flesh.

Powder screamed. It was beautiful, music to his ears, the first sign of the greatness being unleashed!

“Show it. I see it, in your head,” he whispered.

She reached up and pulled him close, her forelegs wrapping tight about his throat. He felt his breath robbed from him, tried to pull away. He saw the fury, the brilliant fury of the windows in her head. He loved them, had to open them!

He raised his hooves, repositioning the poker and drove the blunt bottom down on her skull.

Powder’s head snapped back, smacking the hard floor. She grunted – a less refined but no less delightful note – and loosened her hold.

He saw it. For the first time, he truly saw it! Ribbons, ribbons flowing from her mane where he’d struck her. He touched it and released an erotic moan; it was so delightfully warm, so fragrant to his nostrils! He needed more…

He straddled her, giggling at the way she gazed up at him with drowsy eyes. It was such a funny expression that he couldn’t help laughing, his head whipping back to let out the joyous sound! He laughed and laughed, laughed so much his jaw hurt.

She shifted, tried to crawl out from under him. He laughed at that, too.

Then he brought the poker down.

Again.

Again!

She squirmed, she raised her legs, she screamed. Glorious, the music was so glorious, an instrument unlike any he’d ever heard. This was it, this was the key. He was letting it free, with every blow it was a little closer to liberation!

The cracking of bone sent joyous shivers down his spine.

The pitiful sobbing played with his ears like the softest velvet.

Every thwack was a drumbeat, slowly replaced by the moist, squishy sounds of failing flesh. There were so many ribbons, ribbons adorning her body, ribbons streaming from his paintbrush! They covered him in their warm embrace, filling him with so much love it threatened to burst his brain.

Then, as the puppet’s movements slowed, the rainbow came. A brilliant, blinding flash that engulfed him and filled him with such insurmountable joy! It burst from the puppet’s mouth, the eyes, the open wounds like a flame desperate for release. He leaned back and thrust his forelegs wide, embracing it. It was glorious, it was immaculate, it was… it was…

“Wonderful.”

Author's Note

My thanks to Cerulean Voice for editing and RainbowBob for prereading.

Wonderful was inspired by two entirely different stories: The Book by Margaret Irwin, published 1930, and The Genius of Assassins by Michael Cisco, published 2002.

Aurora

Sweet to Eat
Tales of Nightmare Night

Tale II
Aurora

Celestial Year 1002, October 16

Bounding is nervous about this trip. I can't say I blame him. Not only has the poor, lovable oaf never been camping, but he has to meet my father to boot. I know we should have introduced them to one another months ago, but with Bounding going all over Equestria to play and having such a good year…

Well, Hoofball season's over. We can get this out of the way.

This looks to be a new experience for all of us: Dewey was finally able to lease that lake with the cabin. Thank Celestia we have a lawyer on our side! I wonder how different it will be without tents? Father is no doubt against the whole plan, but he knows Price Hike's proud of her son and wants to be supportive.

He'll still sleep outside, though, or my name's not Waywords!

Celestial Year 1002, October 20

Bounding Forward has charged headlong into a line of burly stallions three times his size. He's lifted weights bigger than his head, kept his hooves on the ball despite being crushed under ponies determined like hell to get it from him, and I once saw him literally leap into a gang of brutes to defend my honor.

And yet he was pale as a ghost meeting my father today. For pity's sake, the old stallion is like a straw in comparison to Bounding's heft! Still, I suppose it's my fault. All those stories I told him about how intimidating Deep Roots can be, the way he handles himself on the farm without so much as breaking a sweat. My father might be small, but I have no doubt he could teach my fiancé a lesson or two.

I think Bounding left a good impression. Father is a big hoofball fan after all, and Bounding has the supreme advantage of not playing for the Hoofington Outlaws. When Bounding admitted to having never been camping, I saw a particular glint in Papa's eye, the kind usually reserved for city folk visiting a farm for the first time.

Poor Bounding has no idea what he's getting into, and as amusing as it is to wonder what Papa has in store for him...

I hope Bounding left a good impression.

Celestial Year 1002, October 22

We went into town today to gather provisions for the camping trip. I got to see Price Hike. She was nice to Bounding – I expected no less – but I saw the way she shared that mischievous grin with Papa behind his back. And her wings, they give off this familiar ruffle when she feels like having fun. I need to have a talk with those two; I won't let them scare off my fiancé like they did so many colts in my teenage years!

Little Caster had already arrived from Canterlot. It was nice to see her without her uniform on and relaxing. I understand that the Royal Guard is serious business, but she doesn't have to take it quite that seriously. Spending some time with her mother will do her good.

She likes Bounding. The two hit it off like they were old friends. I guess when you get two big, burly ponies together they're bound to have something in common. Caster is insistent that she take him fishing and show off her expertise. She seems convinced that once he learns to wet a hook he'll never want to leave the lake.

Dewey won't join us for a couple more days. Sounds like his current case is taking longer than planned.

Celestial Year 1002, October 23

Dewey sent a letter claiming he'd meet us in the town of Northern Falls. He's arranged for a small balloon service to take those of us without wings out to the lake. Apparently the balloon owners weren't eager to go there. What is it about northerners and superstition?

Bounding and Caster are pulling the wagon. It's a wonder Bounding’s ear doesn’t fall off with all her chatter. He doesn't seem to mind, and there's nothing to do about it anyway; once Caster knows there's fishing in the near future, it's impossible to still her tongue. Papa's making sure to help with the fish stories; "I think you're wrong, I think it was the length of the whole leg!"

If I've got Bounding's reaction right, he's buying it all hook, line and sinker.

Hike and I are staying in the back of the wagon, catching up and making sure we have everything we need for the trip. Papa forgot to bring eggs and a few other things, so a small shopping spree will be necessary. He didn't forget the cabbages, though.

Never does.

Celestial Year 1002, October 24

It's always wonderful to see Dewey Screwem again! So charming, so funny. If only he didn't know it. He jumped right into the subtle litigation jokes with Bounding. He was only poking fun, but I don't think Bounding was entertained; if there's any real enemy of the Hoofball player, its lawyers. Worse, this lawyer has wings and can thus escape a pounding.

Dewey lost his case, so he didn't get payed a single bit. I feel for him, but he doesn't appear too bothered by it. He says the case was a long shot, that he'd have never taken it if his boss hadn't been so insistent. The stallion has an incredible record, but records like his get scrambled once somepony over his head decides what cases he has to take on. Dewey is seriously considering starting his own firm. Considering he can front enough bits to lease the lake, I have no doubt he can afford it.

Price had a few choice words for her son. She never did like that he moved to the big city. It always makes me wonder why she gets so bent out of shape over Dewey – easily the most successful of us – when her earthbound daughter did more or less the same thing joining the Royal Guard. Sometimes I think it's because Caster is such a big mare and Dewey is so small. Caster seems to think it has more to do with how much Dewey resembles his late father.

I'll have to keep an eye on Dewey and Bounding. Something tells me they're going to have trouble getting along.

Celestial Year 1002, October 25

Hah! All this time I wondered if there was anything that scared my massive coltfriend. I thought my father was it, but I've discovered he's afraid of heights! The balloon ride to the lake is going to be entertaining, to say the least. I tried to be comforting about the whole thing with him – after all, we’ll have Hike and Dewey to catch him should he fall, and my magic too – but once he was out of earshot the rest of us had a good laugh!

But seriously, the ponies here in Northern Falls are an anxious lot. They suggested different lakes to camp at, warned us to avoid Lake Aurora. My literary instincts were tingling, so I roamed around town with Price and Bounding asking questions. Most of the older folk weren't willing to talk about the lake at all, like it was a taboo subject. The younger generation was more open, but they admitted to not understanding what made everypony so afraid.

I wish I had more time to explore and investigate the situation. Northern Falls is a lovely little mountain community and might make for a great article subject. Perhaps I can start up a series of articles about haunted camping sites. I'll run it by one of the editors later.

It has never been more apparent that my sweet Bounding Forward is a city pony. All this talk of potential spirits and terrible consequences has him worked up worse than the Season Endgames! Papa, Price and Caster teased him over it at supper, actively trying to convince him that ghosts and other superstitious nonsense are real and they have personal experience on the matter. I'll have to give them a stern lecture later about toying with my poor fiancé.

I made sure to reiterate to Bounding that I've been to dozens of campsites throughout Equestria and not once encountered a spook, ghoul, spirit or anything even remotely frightening. Well, there was that one bear on the shores of the Merrander, but that hardly qualifies. At least Papa and Price didn't bother to bring that up.

Dewey finds all this talk of superstition frustrating. Turns out he had to pay more than triple the usual asking price for the trip because of such whimsical ideas, so I don't blame him.

Tomorrow we will be at the cabin. I can't wait to get there!

Celestial Year 1002, October 26

This place is beautiful! It's nothing like the Bay of Antlers or the Merrander River. As soon as I stepped off the balloon onto the soft, moss-covered soil I felt this great, relaxing air. There is a sensation to this place, a feeling that nopony has set hoof here in hundreds of years. The mountains that surround us, the lightly lapping lake that stretches out around our campsite in three directions, the chatter of birds and squirrels... It's almost breathtaking in its natural serenity.

I must practice my description. These words don’t do this lake any justice. I am not a novelist, purely a writer of magazine articles, but I have read prose in books that leave me feeling inadequate and amateur. Perhaps here I can be inspired to write in such a flowery fashion as the great writers of the ages... without falling into purple prose, of course. I'm so terrible about that.

Our cabin isn't all that big, but it's enough to make six ponies comfortable. It is interesting, being so far out in the wilderness and yet having a roof over my head. I have the strange feeling that this isn't really camping. No matter, this is a new experience for all of us! It helps that the cabin hasn't been touched in ages.

For having been all but abandoned for nearly six decades, the place is in pretty good shape. With work, we could turn it into a proper habitation. A few walls to be rebuilt, fix up the stove, make a new table... yes, this place would do nicely. I can't imagine why the locals abandoned such a wonderful cabin.

Caster already has a hook in the water. Didn't take her more than an hour. Bounding has been watching her with no small amount of curiosity, having never fished in his life. He's awfully concerned for the fish; we tried to explain to him that it's all a game even to them, that the rounded metal lures don't actually hurt the fish. He's still mystified by the whole practice, but as a sportspony he can certainly understand the appeal of learning a new game.

There's a boat resting on some rocks just a few yards up the shore. Papa and Price think they can have the hull repaired and ready to go by tomorrow morning, much to Caster's delight. She wants to explore the lake and see if she can't find all the best fishing spots. I keep asking why a pegasus needs a boat to go fishing, but she always insists that “Fishing must be done properly.” Oh well, leave a mare to her oddities. I suppose it’s no different from Bounding’s hoofball myths.

Dewey's in the cabin trying to clean up a couple rooms to make them habitable. I'll join him in a few minutes, just to make myself seem useful. We writers are known for being lazy, and they all have me down as being a very serious writer, so I have to put out an effort or they'll start giving me tasks outside my comfort zone.

I never took Dewey for the imaginative type. Tonight, while we sat around the campfire, he claimed he could hear music. We all went quiet over our beans and perked our ears to listen, but we heard nothing. Still, he insists it is there; a quiet tune that plays just beneath the lapping lake waters. Papa says he's had too much moonshine.

Most of the others have gone to bed for the night. Here I sit on a rock overlooking the mirror-smooth lake, taking in the total silence of this place. It's a delightful reprieve from the big city noise. I feel as if all of nature has set into a tender lull, waiting with bated breath and sleepy mind for the coming sun. I gaze up at the full moon in wonder, for it is brighter and more brilliant than I have ever seen it.

I find myself wondering if Princess Luna is a pony of nature. The sun has its uses and if gives us life, but it is always there even when hidden behind the clouds, regardless of whether one is in the cities or out here amongst the wildlands. The moon, however, seems dim and dull from my apartment window. Why would it shine so brightly in this place, so far from civilization, unless the Princess of the Night was herself a lover of these far off, mysterious lands?

Maybe I'll sleep under the stars with Papa. This night seems filled with opportunities for inspiration.

Celestial Year 1002, October 27

Caster and Price decided to take the repaired boat out for a test and do some fishing. I encouraged Bounding to go with them, since he's never been in a small boat or fishing before. He's so anxious: he wanted me to come along, but there's no way four ponies will fit in that little thing, not if they want to do any fishing. I assured him that there were no better boaters than Price and no better fisherponies than Caster, but he still had that scared puppy look as they set off on the calm waters. It was adorable.

Not that I'd ever tell him that.

Papa and I are going to go exploring the woods. He keeps teasing me about bears, the old fart.

Nope, no bears.

Bounding may become a country pony yet! Price and Caster both claim he made an exemplary first-time fisherpony. Normally I'd accredit their tales to exaggeration, but Bounding seems thoroughly pleased with himself so I have to assume there is at least some truth to their 'big fish' stories.

I knew going out on the lake would be good for Bounding! He's become so excited, and he's really hoping to go fishing again tomorrow. Even Papa cracked a smile for the guy. I may have to go with them this time.

Price wanted to talk to me. She dragged me out of my bunk and brought me to the dock. She asked if I could hear the music. It's actually a bit of a surprise; I thought I was only imagining it, like a song deep in the back of the conscience that refuses to go away. But she hears it, too. We spent some time speculating on its source, but could come up with nothing.

I think Price is spooked. As much as she made fun of the Northern Fall ponies, she's turning to be a bit of a superstitious pony herself. We'll bring it up tomorrow with everypony and see if we can't determine the source.

Celestial Year 1002, October 28

First thing in the morning, Caster's already fishing off the dock. That mare is obsessed, I swear. Oh well, let her have her fun; she only gets off three weeks out of the year, after all.

Bounding is napping. The two of us are situated behind a tall ridge, well out of the way of everypony else. I'm... I can't describe my feelings. Usually when we have our 'fun,' as he so playfully calls it, it's all so much energy and sin. But there was something profoundly different about his touch this time, and a very different light in his eyes. I know Bounding loves me, I know it with all my heart and soul, but today...

Today I felt it. With every breath, every whispered word, every adoring gaze.

I knew this trip would be good for us, I just didn't know how good.

By the Sisters' Holy Mother, Papa saw us! He won't say it outright, but there's no question in my mind. His incessant teasing, his wry smile, the subtle threats made in jest... I've never been so embarrassed! It's pretty clear Bounding is aware of it, too; he's as white as a ghost!

Caster brought it up. The music. She mentioned it around the campfire tonight. It's such a huge relief, I really thought I was imagining things! But once Caster mentioned it, Bounding confessed to hearing it, too.

I asked about the lights in the water, and they confirmed them. It's not common, maybe once every few hours, but sometimes I swear I see a shimmering... something beneath the waves. Caster has been at the lake nonstop, and she swears on her father's grave that there's something moving down there. She's hoping its some unknown fish and is hoping to catch it.

Bounding was the one to raise the possibility of the area being haunted. That prompted my father to laugh raucously. Bounding was clearly offended, but he had to admit that the thought was foalish.

Papa says it's all just our imaginations playing around with us. He says the 'music' is just background noise; the trees rustling in the wind, the quiet lapping of the lake, animals scurrying about beyond the trees, all combining to create an effective illusion of music. I know he is probably right.

Even so, Bounding and I will be sleeping together tonight despite the small bunks. We could both use the company.

Celestial Year 1002, October 29

It's unusually warm today. Caster says it's perfect fishing weather. She, Bounding and I are going to take the boat out on the lake and try out what she claims are superb fishing spots. Bounding seems excited to be going out on the lake again, but I have to admit: I'm nervous. Those lights keep coming, and the music hasn't stopped.

I won’t voice my worries to the others. Bounding seems in such good spirits and Caster continues to insist that the lights are some kind of special, rare fish.

Good Goddess, Bounding might be a better fisherpony than I am! He caught this Northern Trout that was nothing short of gargantuan! Caster says he has graduated from the lowly status of 'city pony' and advanced to the role of 'rookie fisherpony,' much to his amusement. Even the trout seemed to think it was amusing, going so far as to wink at Bounding. We gave it some food as thanks for being a good sport – as is customary – and released it back to the lake.

We've returned to camp for some rest and lunch. Caster thinks she'll be able to catch the 'glowfish,' as she's calling the lights, if she goes out for some night fishing. We'll be leaving her to it; if anypony knows her way around the waters in the dark, it's Caster.

Caster won't be back until early in the morning, so Bounding and I have the camp all to ourselves. We intend to take full advantage of the opportunity!

Camps at night are an inherently spooky environment. I lie here next to Bounding – who is sleeping with such a pleasant smile on his face – and stare into the fire. It's died down quite a bit. The unsteady light fills the world with a ghostly image, and the cabin looms beyond like a behemoth upset with our trespass.

We're so isolated from the world. No carriages, no roads, no lights. Every now and then I see the shining eyes of some unknown animal peering at us from the woods. Frogs, perhaps. As a child, I used to think they were poltergeists waiting to pounce, and tonight that strange feeling has hit me harder than it ever did my childish brain. Sometimes I hear a twig snap or the leaves rustle at something's passing; why does it bother me so much? I haven't been this jumpy in years.

Maybe it's the music. Or is it music at all? If it is, then it's nothing like any music I've ever known. I can't catch the rhythm, perhaps because it is so quiet. It doesn't even seem to come from anywhere; it's like it's internal, being created directly in my brain. It's silly, I know... but Caster and Bounding confirmed hearing it.

What of those lights? Caster is out there right now, trying to catch her elusive 'glowfish,' but I remain uncertain. The lights don't move in any way that makes me think of fish. They are too slow, too steady, and when they do move it is so gradual that I can't imagine any wild animal behaving in such a fashion.

It's not fish. I know it's not fish.

I wish Bounding was awake, but I won't disturb him. No, I'll just snuggle up against his burly chest and let his presence comfort. In the morning everything will feel normal again.

I'll look back at this diary entry and smile.

The boat is gone. It makes no sense; neither Bounding nor I used it since our fishing trip yesterday, and I made sure the landing ropes were tight. Yet as sure as I'm sitting here writing this now, the boat is gone. It's as if somepony came in the middle of the night and stole off with it. Not just it, but all our fishing tools and the tackle box, which we are both certain was taken out at some point.

If the boat simply drifted off, I might be able to find it. It's only a lake, I could surely walk the perimeter. But Bounding doesn't want to leave the camp. I think he's afraid.

I don't blame him. Something really weird is going on in this place.

I am so terribly confused. I didn't want to admit to any of it, but the more I look at the evidence the more I believe we are in a very real and present danger.

We were sitting around the fire, quiet and anxious in our isolation, when Bounding asked me a question, a very simple, obvious one: how did we get here? I realized the relevance nearly instantly. We came to Northern Falls on a wagon which he drove, we got on a balloon there.

Neither of us could remember booking the balloon.

Neither of us can remember leasing the land, or who owns it.

At this point I was convinced it was an oddity, a lapse of memory in the two of us. I was convinced that if I went back through my diary I'd learn the facts. But what I discovered...

Who are these ponies I wrote about in my diary? I don't even remember writing about them. I had a father? I read that question over and over again, and it seems preposterous; of course I had a father.

So why can't I remember anything about him? Not a face, a voice... nothing.

I remember nights on the Merrander and the bear. I remember the Bay of Antlers, and so many other wonderful camping trips. But I went on those journeys by myself... didn't I? Why can’t I remember the whole bear attack? I feel like somepony saved me… but… but that’s impossible.

These other ponies... Price, an old friend of a father I don't remember. Her children, Caster and Dewey, with whom I supposedly grew up with. I see their names, I read about us together. How can there be so much history in these pages when I can't remember a thing about them?

We never should have come here.

Bounding wanted to leave by hoof, run out into the woods and try to make it to civilization. I corrected him; I know, from a lifetime of experience, that we'd never make it to Northern Falls. We don't have the supplies and nothing here is edible for our equine stomachs.

Our best hope is to stay here until the balloon returns, which should be in two days. We can make it that long, I'm sure of it. Bounding is terrified – he's seen the same diary entries I have – and he may attempt to leave without me. I pray he doesn't. He hasn't the experience necessary to even know which way to go, and I fear he'd never survive.

I don't want to be left alone tonight.

I've taken a much closer look at my previous entries. If I'm right about what I'm seeing, then we don't stand a chance. First Dewey Screwem, whose disappearance was so sudden and deceptive I didn't realize he was missing from the entries at first. Then Price Hike, his mother, the very next day. Just... gone, and we didn't even notice. Deep Roots – the pony who was supposedly my father – was next, followed by somepony named Little Caster. If my entry is accurate, she's the reason the boat's missing.

Now there's just us. Us and that horrid noise in our heads, an unequine 'music' that I've been hearing since the second day. They all heard it, too. And what of the lights that continue to shimmer in the lake? They've grown brighter these past few days.

If this pattern is what I believe, one of us will not be here tomorrow. Goddess, I can't imagine not existing. But to leave the camp, to try and make it on our own...

I think Bounding is right. Our chances of reaching Northern Falls on hoof are slim at best, but after all I've read I am confident we don't stand a chance if we stay. I don't want to disappear, to be forgotten by the world. Dying would be a much better fate.

We've been walking for hours. I had hoped that the music would fade as we left the lake, but no such luck. That terrible noise, it invades my mind like a plague! At first it had been a quiet thrumming, but now it seems more akin to nails on a chalkboard. It sounds... angry. I would give anything for it to shut up!

Bounding says I'm retreating into my diary. I suppose he's right. The poor, lovable stallion doesn't have something like this with which to take his mind off things. He has to rely on me and our conversations. I don't feel much like talking, but for his sake...

I am so envious of Bounding’s ability to sleep so soundly, even under these circumstances. We both know something is wrong – terribly, horribly wrong – yet somehow he's snoring away. So now I lie here next to him, alone and terrified.

What if we haven't traveled far enough? What if I wake up in the morning to find him gone... to not even remember him? My big, strong, sweet Bounding...

I still remember how we met. I'd been in the library, doing research. He was there with a dozen books and looking so stressed. It was pitiable, really. I didn't pay any attention to Hoofball back then, so I didn't really know who he was or that it would be so odd for him to be there. I did notice how ponies kept walking up to him, getting all excited.

Four days in a row I went to that library, and every day he was in the same spot. I thought it curious. Then, one day, he just walked up to me asked me out. Out of nowhere. I almost declined, but he looked so adorably desperate, like a puppy needing a home.

That weekend he brought me to what had to have been one of the fanciest restaurants I'd ever visited. It was so upscale it made me feel downscale. It was then that I found out who he really was and why he was really at that library. I can't imagine what had been going through his mind! Here was a stallion constantly hounded by the press, who had no small number of mares after his tail, and he wasted four days in a library just trying to work up the nerve to ask me out!

I used to wonder why. He says he first saw me in the reserved booths, during that one game I attended thanks to an editor friend who thought she was returning a favor. What was it he said he liked? Ah, yes: he said I had 'focus.' I still don't understand what that means. All I know is he spent two weeks trying to find out who I was and how he could meet me for real.

My sweet Bounding. I don't want to forget anything about you. Maybe that's why I'm writing this now, so that if you disappear tonight I won't forget. It works both ways, doesn't it? Let me do you the same favor, in case it is I who disappears.

I am Waywords Roots, and if this diary is to be believed then I am the only daughter of Deep Roots, though that name is unfamiliar to me. I was born on a farm outside the tiny town of Riverside, and I am a writer for the magazine 'A Walk in the Woods.' It's for naturalists and campers like me.

...I don't know what to write. I want to keep going, but there are so many holes in my head. Is it because of what's happening here? I feel like entire pages of my life have been ripped out. It's terrifying.

What kind of unholy power can do such a thing?

Ignore the stains. Please.

I have to keep writing. I have to hide in my diary. It takes us when we sleep, I'm sure of it. I wish I knew what 'it' is.

I must stay awake. All night, if I can. I won't sleep.

The light of my horn keeps his face visible. I know I won’t wake him, he sleeps like a rock. He looks gaunt. I know it's the inconsistent light of my horn playing tricks on me, but I hate the sight. My sweet Bounding...

Keep writing!

Stay awake!

Don't think about the long walk we took, how tired you are, how comfortable it is to press against his broad body.

Keep writing.

About what?

Do you remember how afraid you were to come on this camping trip with me? You'd never been camping before, what if you made a foal of yourself? That's what I remember you telling me. My diary says you were afraid of meeting my father. That strikes me as so... weird. To think of you being afraid of the father I don't recall having. It's a little funny.

Funny.

So why do I feel like sobbing?

Damn it, the stains are ruining my words. How are you supposed to remember me this way?

The lights are dancing in the sky.

I love you, Bounding Forward. Please, if I'm gone in the morning, remember that.

Please.

I'm so tired...

I don't remember.

It wasn't my idea to come out here. Whose idea was it?

I don’t remember.

I woke up this morning and felt... loss. Like something was supposed to be there. That hideous thrumming makes my head hurt.

I have to keep going. I have to get to Northern Falls.

I don't want to be forgotten.

Merciful Goddess, it hurts. Why was I so panicked, why was I so scared? I even survived a bear attack – though I don't remember how – yet I fled like a frightened schoolfilly who'd never left home! I just couldn't take it, I had to get away from that noise.

Now look at me. One tumble down a cliff was all it took. If it was only one leg, that might have been okay, but two...

Why am I crying? I've had worse than this. Not really, but... but now I feel like there's something missing. So many bad situations have come up in my life; the bear, that cave in the Surcingle range, getting lost in the Evermarsh. I always came through fine.

Because I had something. There was something that watched over me, kept me going, guided me. What was it? Why can't I remember it? I need it so badly right now. I miss it so much, I just know it was an important aspect of my life.

I want it back.

Damn it, stop crying!

Deep Roots.

If I say it enough times, will I remember?

It took some work and a lot of pain, but my legs have been set in splints. I might be able to drag my way, but I don't like it.

I'll never make it to town.

What other option do I have?

I'll keep going. Something inside tells me I need to. Maybe, just maybe, deep down I really do remember this pony who is supposedly my father.

It's over. I won't make it. I don't have the strength to continue, or the supplies to last more than a couple days.

I won’t make it.

Buck me straight to Tartarus!

...I had a fiancé. I read about him, and I start crying. I can't help it. It's just a name on paper; I can't remember his face, his build, his voice, and yet the thought of him rends my heart in two. He was an earth pony, or so my diary claims.

I read yesterday's entry. Again and again. He sounds like such a nice, handsome pony. I wish I could remember him. I would give anything to remember any of them.

What is this horrible place?

Why won't that bucking noise stop?

Damn tears...

I want to go home. I want to see the farm. My diary says Deep Roots loved that place. Cabbages. I remember growing cabbages as a filly. That's all I grew.

I don't remember being raised. I just remember that the farm is home. How did I get there? Who fed me, clothed me, taught me everything I know?

I want to remember.

Maybe I've gone insane.

Maybe all these names, all these ponies are the delusions of a mad mare. Maybe they never existed. It could very well be that they are the workings of a lonely mare desperate for some companionship, so desperate she concocted friends and a family in her mind. Did I flee out here because my illusions are breaking down?

Writers are, by their very nature, an imaginative lot. It doesn't matter what kind of writer you are, it takes a distinct creativity to try. In this aspect I have always considered myself rather bland, but perhaps that's not the case.

Did I create a father for the sake of having one? Could Price Hike have been the result of my desire for a motherly figure? What about her children?

And this supposed fiancé. A Hoofball player, really Waywords? Talk about wild fantasies.

But what if they were real? They could be my own imaginings, but then I could be going crazy and using that as an excuse.

Sweet Celestia, somepony end that awful racket!

Calm down, Waywords. Just calm down. You're not insane. It's just that stupid noise and the pain worming its way into your head.

I wish I had somepony to talk to.

I hate this forest. It's so big and looming and quiet. I need noise to drown out that awful thrumming. I feel so isolated.

I wish my legs would stop hurting so much. I wish I could hear a friendly voice. Even an unfriendly one would be nice right about now. I keep rereading my diary. It's all I have to distract, and it's not enough. I think more and more about the ponies I wrote about. Were they ever real?

Damn trees. Damn rocks. Damn noise. I won't let them scare me any longer. I don't want to disappear, but if that is my fate then I'll face it. I won't let them break me!

The sun is going down. I can see the purple twilight through the trees.

They say dawn and dusk are the best times to pray, that Celestia is most receptive to the pleas of her subjects then because her attention is so deeply focused upon her work. I've never been one for prayer; it's too insubstantive, and I never felt that it achieved anything.

I'm praying now.

I'm praying to Celestia for a miracle, for that is what I need. I'm praying to her sister, too. Perhaps Luna is the lover of nature I'd like her to be. Perhaps, in these horrible environs, she will be even more receptive than her sister.

I hope so.

I pray so.

It's beautiful. I remember seeing the auroras once, on a camping trip I took in Alabastra. The lights danced in the sky, playful and amazing and filling me with awe. Was I alone? My memory says I was, but I don't trust my memories.

These aren't the same, though. They are darker, yet at stages brighter, too. Their dance seems less random and more synchronized, as if there really were a consciousness guiding them.

They are coming from the direction of the lake. Beautiful... but strangely unnerving. I have this terrible feeling that they aren't natural. When I look closely, I feel as if I am seeing something else within those lights. Forms, shapes, bodies...

...faces?

I don't want to be under those lights. They can't be natural. There is some kind of curse on this land, those lights prove it. And the thrumming, it's been getting louder. I think it comes from the lights.

Is this the source? Is this why everypony I know – think I knew – am supposed to know?

They must be faces. I am convinced they are faces. I wish I could make out the expressions, but they are so intangible, constantly fading in and out. It's not the dull, constant pain or the noise in my head or the horrible, horrible isolation. They are faces.

Faces in the aurora.

Celestia, Luna, please, grant me a miracle. Don't let them erase me. Don't let them wipe me out! Even if I don't live, I want to exist! Please...

Write.

Stay awake and write.

They are looking. The aurora has strengthened, I can see the faces. Are they screaming, is that what the sound it meant to represent? Or laughing?

They are looking. They seek me out.

Must stay awake.

Don't sleep. They'll find me if I sleep, I know it.

Write. Write anything. Write everything.

Dewey Screwem.

Price Hike.

Deep Roots.

Little Caster.

Bounding Forward.

I am Waywords Roots. Remember me.

Please, somepony remember me.

Don't sleep, Waywords. Don't let them find you.

The thrumming.

Goddess, the thrumming!

Waywords.

I am Waywords.

I am somepony.

Don't forget me.

They are looking.

Don't forget me.

Don't sleep.

Waywords

Dont forget me

Dont sleep

Don

Author's Note

I wrote this while on a camping trip with my parents in Canada. Needless to say, the trip itself was highly inspirational to the topic. Another inspiration was the short story Genius Loci by Clark Ashton Smith, published 1933.

Sweet to Eat

Sweet to Eat
Tales of Nightmare Night

Tale III
Sweet to Eat

“What do you mean, you’re not going out for candy tonight?”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes at Silver Spoon’s outburst. “Puh-lease, Nightmare Night is so boring. It’s not even scary.”

Silver Spoon shifted in her spot across the picnic table. She held her teacup in one hoof as she stared with low ears. “But… but I got a costume and everything.”

“A costume? You?” Diamond eyed her friend with a smirk. “What are you going as, a blank flank?” She blinked and rubbed her chin. “That might not be such a bad idea, come to think of it…”

Silver ducked her head and blushed. “Actually… I’m gonna be Princess Luna.”

“Luna?” Diamond nearly dropped her teacup. “Really? What makes you think you deserve to dress like a princess?”

“I thought we could go as a pair,” Silver suggested, holding her teacup as if to hide behind it. “You could be Celestia.”

Diamond grinned and patted her own mane with a haughty pose. “Well, I am perfect princess material, am I not?” She took a sip of tea.

“Of course!” Silver brightened in an instant. “And the two of us together could—”

Diamond set her cup down with a loud clack. “Then again, it’s not a very frightening costume. Luna can be scary, but Celestia? Nopony’s scared of her. No, I would have to be Luna.”

Silver’s jaw dropped. “What? B-but I thought—”

“You heard me.” Diamond smiled at her faithful accomplice with that dark glint in her eye, the one she’d spent hours practicing in the mirror. “I really don’t care to go out for Nightmare Night, but if you let me be Luna instead…”

Silver fidgeted even as she shook her head. “My mother hired Rarity herself to make my costume! I can’t just—”

“All the more reason I should wear it,” Diamond declared smugly. “After all, shouldn’t I be seen wearing only the finest costume made by Ponyville’s finest fashionista? Such a shame she’s sister to that blank flank.” She shivered as she said the phrase.

She peered over her teacup at Silver, who had her head bowed and was toying with her ponytail. Diamond frowned at the behavior; was she actually considering refusing? Silver had never said ‘no’ before, and Diamond wasn’t about to let her do it now.

“If you want me to go out tonight to that dull event, you’ll be Celestia and I’ll be Luna.”

Silver pouted and wouldn’t meet her eye. “I… I thought you’d be happy being the elder sister.”

“Well, I’m not!”

Diamond slammed her hoof to the table. She leaned heavily against it and glared Silver in the eye. “Nightmare Night is a wimpy festival of games put on for babies. It used to be scary, and if I am going to tag along with you I intend to bring that back. Luna’s the scarier sister, and I want to scare some whiney kids! Not pretend to scare them like the real Luna does – I want to make them cry!”

Silver sank a little behind the table with moist eyes. “But… but my mother really wanted—”

“I don’t care what she wanted,” Diamond snapped. “I am not gonna go out there and look like a ditzy filly dreaming of being a princess. The whole thing is stupid anyway. I either scare the cutie marks off some ponies or I don’t go at all!”

Diamond glared at the cowed Silver Spoon for a few extra second before she sat back on her bench properly and sipped at her tea. She flinched and glowered at it, then flung her hoof up so the teacup’s contents splashed all over her nearby servant. “The tea’s too cold. Make me more.”

The servant took the cup and disappeared towards the schoolhouse without a word.

Diamond grinned and imagined herself prancing about Ponyville scaring the weepy babies of the town. She could just hear them screaming and crying for their mommies as they ran. How delightful! They might even drop their candy, which Diamond would of course have to take for herself as a reward.

“Oooh, this might be fun after all.”

“No.”

Diamond blinked, her ears twitching at the unfamiliar sound. She turned with wide eyes to Silver, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What?”

Silver shrank a little. “I’m sorry, Dai. Mom’s put a lot into this. She’s never been so… interested. I can’t disappoint her.”

Trying to wrap her brain around what she’d just heard, Diamond could only stare. Usually when she didn’t get what she wanted her response would be outrage, but this was Silver Spoon. Silver was always on her side. Diamond wasn’t sure how to react.

“I… I guess this means you won’t be coming tonight.” Silver chewed her lip and tugged at her ponytail.

Several seconds of silent mouthing passed before Diamond finally found her voice. “You’re picking your mom… over me? Silver, you can’t stand her.”

Eyes wet, Silver finally met Diamond’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Dai. J-just this once, okay?”

Diamond blinked a few times. Slowly, her lips fell into a frown… then a sneer.

Silver leaned forward a little. “Okay?”

There came a familiar grip on Diamond’s mind, that raging fire that she always reserved for those who got in her way. She stood on her hind legs and pounded her hooves to the table so hard Silver’s teacup rocked.

“No, it’s not okay! Of all the ponies who would even think of refusing my most reasonable request, I never thought it would be you.”

She let out a fierce snarl, prompting Silver to duck beneath the table. “And for your mother? Are you kidding me? You said it yourself that she’s not worth the time! What did you say, that she was stupid? A ditz? That she ignored you all the time? I let you stand by me and this is how you repay me?”

Silver gazed at her, eyes just over the table’s edge, and Diamond was confident she’d give in.

Then something strange happened: Silver’s eyes shifted, her ears lowered. She seemed to go from scared to uncertain, and then to angry.

Tears began to form in Silver’s eyes as she stood up properly once more. Her lip trembled, her cheeks grew red… and then she reared back to copy Diamond’s aggressive pose. “Well maybe standing by you isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yeah, I said those things, but I was angry. This might be my chance to turn things around, Dai!”

Diamond hesitated at her longtime companion’s outburst… but only for a moment; she bared her teeth as she pressed her muzzle to that of her friend. “You want to spend time playing with the babies, you be my guest! Go hang out with the losers, it’s where you belong!”

“Maybe it is! Goodbye, Diamond. I hope Nightmare Moon decides to have you for a snack.”

“That’s not even a true story, you moron!” Diamond waved her hoof as Silver stomped off. “You’ll see. When you go out tonight and nopony wants to hang around you because you’re such a loser, you’ll wish you’d listened to me! You’ll make the worst Princess Luna in Equestria, and then you’ll wish you’d seen things my way!”

Silver stormed off, leaving Diamond to glare and huff. It was several seconds before she realized she was still reared up on the table, and she sat down with a scowl.

“Your fresh tea, miss.”

Diamond swatted the cup away, ignoring the sound of it shattering in the grass. She fumed and stared at her shaking hooves, teeth grinding. She still couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. Silver Spoon had disagreed with her. Silver! What in the name of Celestia could drive her to do that? It was ridiculous, it was foolish, it was…

…it was…

Diamond stared at the empty spot across the picnic table, her eyes locked on Silver’s abandoned teacup. What was this pain in her chest, like some icy claw inside her?

She pushed away from the table and stepped down to the grass. “Get my schoolbag. I’m going home.”

“Of course, miss.”

Silver wasn’t a dumb pony. She’d come around. Surely she would recognize that she was making a huge mistake. Diamond knew it; within an hour – tops – Silver would be at her door begging forgiveness and demanding Diamond go as Princess Luna. This was not something to be concerned over.

Diamond forced down that mysterious pain in her chest and pulled out her best smile. Yes…

Silver would come around.

Diamond’s father had his head tilted, lips set in a nonplussed frown. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out for Nightmare Night?”

She stared out the window at the street leading to the front door. “Not this year, Daddy. Nightmare Night’s no fun without Silver around.”

Filthy Rich studied her with concern. She could tell he wanted to encourage her, but after several seconds he sighed and nodded. “Well, if that’s really what you want. In that case, would you like to get up early and go with me to pick up your mother in Canterlot?”

She turned to give him a smile, though it took a lot to manage it. “That’d be wonderful! Thanks, Daddy.”

He smiled and patted her mane. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Don’t you worry; I’m sure your friend will be feeling better soon.”

She stepped up to press herself to him, genuinely pleased with his effort to cheer her up. “I’m sure she will.”

He rested his leg around her back in a small hug before pulling away. “Well, we should probably get some shut-eye! Don’t want to wake up late and miss our train.”

Diamond nodded with a faked yawn. “Yes, Daddy.” As soon as the door was closed, she turned back to the window and rested her chin to the sill, her smile dropping to a deep frown.

Why didn’t Silver come? Surely she didn’t really decide to go out on Nightmare Night without her? No, that was ridiculous. Something had to have happened. Maybe she really did get sick.

Or maybe Diamond had pushed a little too hard.

She sat up and shook her head so hard her tiara fell off. What was she thinking? She was Diamond Tiara, and she always got what she wanted! This wasn’t her fault – it was Silver’s for being so selfish. She was probably miserable right now, lost without her fearless, intelligent and oh-so-charming leader to guide her.

...so why didn’t she come?

Diamond turned away from the window and picked up her tiara. She held it in her hooves and stared at the ornament for several long seconds.

Maybe she should have accepted being Celestia. Maybe, just this once, she should have given in. She turned to gaze at her bed, at the spot where Silver would lie down during their many sleepovers. They were supposed to have one in a couple days. What if Silver didn’t come to that, too?

“This is not my fault… is it, Silver?”

Diamond perked her ears, half-expecting to hear her friend’s voice. She started to put her tiara on… but hesitated. She held it over her head, her hooves still and unable to move. She closed her eyes and listened to the silence of her room.

With a sigh and a sag of her shoulders, she tossed the tiara onto her bed. She turned back to the window and pressed her cheek to the glass, scanning the darkness. The bright lights in the distance indicated that the festival was in full swing. Silver was probably out there right now, spending time with her mother.

Maybe her words had been too harsh. Maybe Silver really was reconnecting with her mother. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Better one parent than none at all – not that Diamond would know. Maybe she should be happier for Silver. Obviously she wouldn’t apologize; that would suggest she’d done something wrong, and Diamond Tiara never does anything wrong.

She could, on the other hoof, welcome Silver back. Surely she would realize that Diamond had been trying to act in her best interest? But if that wasn’t the case…

There it was, that clenching in her gut. It had been happening a lot, and Diamond had no idea what it was supposed to be. All she knew was that it came every time she thought about Silver possibly not being her friend anymore. She knew it was a ridiculous thought – who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be friends with her? – but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

A vision rose in her mind's eye of Silver out there amongst all those losers, playing all the lame games and pretending to be scared of every little thing that jumped out of the shadows. She might even have fun.

What if she did?

Could Silver have fun with other ponies? Without Diamond Tiara?

Very suddenly, all Diamond wanted to do was head out there and see what Silver was up to. She couldn’t be having fun – she just couldn’t be. It was impossible, inconceivable!

Wasn’t it?

How was she to know for sure?

Diamond lingered at the window for several long seconds, her mind playing over the same questions over and over again. With every fresh thought her stomach danced a little more and her heart twisted a little harder.

At last she could take it no more: she had to investigate. But she’d already told her father she was going to sleep, and it was far too early to leave without the servants noticing. She might be the queen when she was out on the town by herself, but when at home her father was god and no servant would listen to her over him. If they spotted her she’d be ratted out in an instant.

So Diamond decided to do something that had never occurred to her before: she would sneak out the window. She took the extra time to turn out the lights in her room and arrange her bed so it would look like somepony was in it, then grabbed her saddle and climbed onto the roof.

The task proved difficult, and more than once Diamond strongly considered abandoning her plan, but every time she came close to going back inside she would think of Silver and steel herself to the task. In the end she was able to climb down a tree, though she grimaced at the twigs and leaves that now covered her coat and mane. At last safely on the ground, she wasted no time rushing for downtown Ponyville.

The town was alive with festivity, foals running about as ghouls and pirates and dragons, collecting candy from similarly-costumed adults. Orange paper lamps decorated homes and trees, accompanied by scarecrows and tombstones and zombie mannequins. Diamond observed it all from her hiding spot in an alley and refused to think of any of it as entertaining.

She kept scouring for Silver, but it took some time to locate her. She couldn’t help but stare, for the Princess Luna costume was a dress suitable for the Grand Galloping Gala, well-designed with stars, a moon brooch and layered skirt. Silver had her body painted just the right shade of blue and had dyed her mane. She even had glitter to make it shimmer like Luna’s did. It wasn’t a perfect illusion, but there could be no doubt who she was trying to be. A pair of fake wings – were those real feathers? – and a horn completed the ensemble.

Diamond had no choice but to admit that she was jealous; Silver looked incredible, and everypony was sure to let her know it. If Rarity had done that good a job with a Luna costume, what would she have managed with a Celestia one? Maybe Diamond should have taken Silver up on the offer after all…

She ducked beneath some bushes and shook her head with force. What was she thinking? No, she shouldn’t have taken Silver’s offer. Silver should have given in and let her wear that awesome costume! Diamond’s ears folded and she ground her teeth as she overheard more ponies praising the little Luna. Those compliments were supposed to be aimed at her.

She took another look and saw Silver’s mother, a white earth pony with a short but fashionable black mane. She wore a costume clearly intended to be Princess Cadance. It wasn’t as grand and well-developed as Silver’s, but it was still pretty good. Clearly not made by Rarity, though.

Diamond had to stop and rub her eyes in case she was seeing things; was Silver… smiling at her mother? Was her mother smiling back? Diamond didn’t know such a thing was possible. After hearing Silver talk about the mare…

She dropped back into the bushes once more, her mind a cloud of uncertainty. On the one hoof, she was still mad. On the other, seeing Silver finally being happy with her mother was… nice. She deserved it, didn’t she? Diamond knew she could be mean sometimes, but she and Silver had always gotten along. Maybe… maybe Diamond should try and be a real friend for once and let this go.

But then Diamond heard something new, something that made her tense; cheering foals. It wasn’t the act of cheering, or the sound itself… it was where she suspected they were directed. Slowly, her lips curling back in a sneer, she looked out.

Sure enough, Silver was surrounded by foals of all ages. They were talking to her, and… and she was talking back. Like they were normal. Like they were worthy. Even the blank flanks.

There was that wretched feeling in Diamond's stomach again, this time with a lot more force. She wanted to rush out and chase them all away; Silver was her friend and she had no interest in sharing! Yet despite her anger, she didn’t dare approach. After all, she had no costume, and that was a social heresy on Nightmare Night.

No, Diamond was too important to let such humiliation take place. She had to find some way of dealing with this, though. Maybe she could find some way to scare the foals off?

No, she might scare Silver, and that wasn’t her goal.

Humiliate them at school later?

No, she needed to solve the problem now.

Steal their candy?

No, she’d be seen without a costume. Humiliating!

…unless she took it after Luna’s arrival.

Diamond glowered at that thought; it wasn’t exactly a devastating blow, now was it? Taking the candy supposedly sacrificed to Nightmare Moon wouldn’t even be noticed, though it would certainly give her a bit of self-satisfaction. Besides, she knew the parents took the candy for later anyway.

Then again, she didn’t really have any options, did she? No costume, ponies all over... nothing at all in her favor.

Diamond’s eyes locked on Silver, and her blood went cold. Silver was being approached by one of them: Sweetie Belle. Diamond glared at the crusader, who appeared to be dressed as a witch. She waited for Silver to fling insults, to send her packing.

Silver didn’t do that at all. As Diamond stared, the two of them… talked. There was no small amount of anxiety, but they seemed to actually be getting along.

If Diamond’s blood had been boiling before, it was probably all steam at this point. She watched her friend walking off with that blank flank and felt a desperate urge to scream her fury. Of all the things that could happen, Silver was collaborating with the enemy! How could this have happened?

Diamond turned away and stomped her hoof a few times, snarling as she realized what was happening. She might lose her friend… to those pathetic crusaders! Worst of all, there was nothing she could do about it. When she saw Silver again she’d… she’d… she didn’t know what she would do, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Diamond had no other option, this she now understood. Silver had betrayed her – her! – and would have to be taught a lesson. Maybe not here, most certainly not at this very moment, but soon. Not only Silver Spoon, but those insufferable blank flanks as well! She'd show them what happened to ponies who took her things.

For now? Candy. Stealing it might not raise any hackles, but at least eating some might assuage that strange pain she was feeling in her chest. Besides, if she didn't liberate it then it would go to all the parents, and every filly knew that parents weren't supposed to eat candy. It was poisonous for them.... or something like that.

Diamond skulked from behind the bushes into an alley, which led her to an abandoned street. She looked up at the full moon; she had not quite an hour left before it hit its zenith. She could easily get to the statue before the foals. She turned and walked down the street, keeping to the shadows in case somepony might show up.

She followed the path Zecora normally took the foals on. It wasn't hard to recall, having walked it once a year her entire life. Gradually, the décor of Nightmare's Night began to disappear, or at least the décor Diamond was accustomed to.

As she examined her surroundings, she noticed a distinct change in the air. Gone were the 'cute' orange lamps and the pumpkins grinning pleasantly at her. No longer did she see fake cobwebs and grinning zombies waving to her from porches. Those were decorations designed to amuse and, perhaps, scare the silly foals.

In their place came decorations of a darker tint. Diamond was entering what the foals all dubbed the 'Dark Side' of Ponyville on Nightmare's Night. From their perspective, this area was cursed every year by the presence of Nightmare Moon's statue, and was crawling with dangerous creatures ready to gobble little foals up should they wander too close without Zecora. Diamond had learned the truth a couple years back: this was where those adults not saddled with looking after the big babies went to play for Nightmare Night. The foals walked through only for Zecora's little game, because it helped amplify their fear of Nightmare Moon.

Of course, by that time all the adults and their booths would be long gone, to give the children a sense of abandonment. It was all one big game, and Diamond had originally been insulted at the trickery. Now she was more insulted by the fact that her father still wouldn't let her come to this side of town on Nightmare Night.

A distinct thrill ran through her as she realized that she was doing something the big babies across town didn't dare... and, of course, breaking the rules was always a bit fun.

She took this opportunity to really examine her surroundings. She saw one house that seemed to be smeared with blood... very effectively so. At another she spotted a trio of zombies, but not the goofy, fake zombies like what she'd seen on Bon Bon's porch. Oh no: these had skin hanging loosely, exposed bone, and putrid yellow flesh. Worse, they actually moved, shuffling about the porch and snapping their teeth at her when she tried to get too close.

There was no denying that they put a chill down her spine.

Cobwebs with real spiders, ghostly apparitions that moved through solid objects, red and yellow eyes peering wickedly from the shadows, a fog hovering just above her head with wispy tendrils slowly snaking after her. Diamond Tiara's heart rate rose and she definitely felt the unfamiliar urge to hide. As scared as she felt, there was also an intense thrill, an energy within her that wanted more.

This was what Nightmare Night was supposed to be. Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? She couldn't wait to tell Silver about...

Tell Silver...

That sting in her chest came back. Combined with her surroundings, it filled Diamond with a sudden, horrible dread, and she found herself fleeing into an alley and away from all those terrible things. Unable to get pursuing ghouls and clutching monsters from her mind, she shivered by the wall.

And Silver Spoon. She was thinking about her, too.

Diamond shook her head frantically, fighting to get the hideous fear out of her. This was all Silver's fault! If she hadn't abandoned Diamond, she wouldn't have to go through this scary place alone.

No.

Diamond pushed that thought down. She wanted to be scared! She wanted to show all those babies what a real pony could take, and she was not going to let a few well-designed illusions get the better of her!

She wouldn't let thoughts of Silver get the better of her, either.

Taking a few calming breaths, Diamond forced herself back out into that street. She glared up at the fog and the way it seemed to reach for her, then to the zombies on the porch down the road. Fake, all of it fake. She could do this, because she wasn't a little crying foal. Sure, it was all legitimately creepy, but that just made the bragging rights that much better.

She trotted down the road, a confident grin plastered on her face

Hearing laughter up ahead, Diamond slowed her pace. She slipped behind trees and – when they didn't scare her too much – decorations. She could see ponies: the adults playing their games. Not all of them were in costumes, but those that were had made them very effectively.

One pony sported a hockey mask and had an axe sticking out of the back of his head. Another had the looming presence of a vampire pony, and there was a trio of witches roaming about pretending to fling curses at everypony present. The costumes were all far better than anything Diamond had seen on the foals... except for Silver's Luna costume.

The vampire was particularly ominous in her mind, with the way he always seemed to be creeping up on unsuspecting victims. She studied his mottled brown coat and black mane, certain she'd seen him before. Ponyville was a small town, so she should have easily identified him, but while familiar she simply couldn't place his face.

Regardless, he was clearly a master at sneaking up on ponies. There were times when even Diamond – from her safe hiding place with a good view of the scene – lost track of him, only for him to resurface seemingly from nowhere and pounce on some hapless pony. He always managed to pull off a scream, and Diamond could see why: when on the hunt his eyes gained this piercing, sinister manner that even Diamond – clearly not his target – trembled at.

He could probably give Queen Chrysalis a run for her money in the terrorizing department. The pony dressed as her certainly thought so.

More screams drew Diamond farther along the road. She continued her cautious movements. Soon she discovered something new, something which had never been around on her other visits. It was a large stand, almost like a stage. A short line of stallions stood nearby, waiting their turn.

At the center of the stage was perhaps one of the most beautiful mares Diamond had ever laid eyes on. Though her long, flowing mane had been dyed black and she wore a conservative red dress coated in spider webs – complete with what appeared to be real spiders – there was no mistaking the elite Canterlot model, Fleur de Lis.

Diamond couldn't help gaping; what was she doing in Ponyville?

Putting on a show, apparently.

Thunderlane was next in line, and he strutted up the steps with a confident grin.

Fleur eyed him with a playful, dark smile. "Oh.... so you think you have what it takes to charm Elzibet Batherpony, do you?"

He smirked and gave a flourish of a bow.

"Willing to wage your soul on that?"

Diamond rolled her eyes; was this supposed to be scary? She was tempted to leave and find the source of the screams, but stuck around just for the sake of watching Thunderlane make a fool of himself. He said a few flowery lines and posed a little; he looked so ridiculous that Diamond had to hold her jaw shut to keep from laughing. Fleur merely watched him with that same dark, wry expression.

At last she beckoned, and he moved closer. She tilted her head and considered him, then – to Diamond's shock – leaned forward and puckered.

Thunderlane grinned back at the line of disappointed-looking stallions to wink triumphantly. He turned back to Fleur, moved in...

Fleur opened her mouth, and when she did Diamond's hackles rose; three brown, insectoid mandibles extended from within Fleur’s throat. They splayed out and extended forward as a single thick tentacle burst from between her lips to wrap around Thunderlane's face.The former suitor screamed and tried to pull back, but the tentacle dragged him forward.

Diamond's heart pounded as she watched, jaw agape. Those sharp-looking mandibles bent around Thunderlane's head as if to grasp it, dragging the squirming pony's terrified face closer to Fleur's unnaturally gaping mouth.

Then, with a shout of desperation and a mighty tug, he was free.

Thunderlane collapsed on his side and crawled backwards from Fleur. The tentacle and mandibles withdrew into her and she closed her mouth. She stared down at the stallion with a pretty pout.

"How disappointing," Fleur said. "What's the matter? Afraid to commit?"

As the stallions in line burst into laughter, Diamond's heart slowed. She sat and felt her body relaxing as a cold chill ran down her spine.

Thunderlane climbed up on shaky hooves, a weak smile on his lips. That smile didn't match his eyes, which were wide and still locked on Fleur.

Fleur shot him a smug smile and waved him away, and he stumbled off the stage. One of the stallions in the line whacked his shoulder, eliciting a good-natured chuckle from him, though his legs continued to wobble.

Diamond shivered, then shivered again. Her breath came in small gasps as her fight-or-flight instincts slowly died down. There was a distinct exhilaration in this moment. Diamond slowly smiled with the realization that she felt... good. It was a nervous kind of good, the first real awareness that she was going to be okay, that what she'd seen wasn't real. It made her feel... alive.

Diamond wanted more of this feeling. Forgetting her original purpose, she waited eagerly to see what would happen to the next stallion.

Once again, her jaw dropped as Big McIntosh made his slow, anxious way up the stairs. Diamond had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn't seeing things, but there was no question: the shyest, quietest stallion in Ponyville intended to speak to the most desirable mare in Canterlot!

Fleur tilted her head at him, blinking as she studied the sturdy Big Mac. She seemed about as surprised as everypony else.

"I didn't expect to see you coming to this."

Big McIntosh's cheeks burned. He sat before her and rubbed his foreleg before glancing at the audience. His head shifted to look away from her and his ears folded, but his eyes stayed on Fleur's face.

"I had to," he muttered, voice so low Diamond almost didn't hear him.

Fleur leaned forward a little with an expression of genuine interest. "Oh? And why is that?"

Diamond lifted her ears and leaned close, struggling to hear Big Mac's mumbled words, but it was useless. Whatever he'd said, it somehow managed to make his cheeks brighten a few shades.

Fleur leaned back to consider him. At first she seemed surprised, but then she regained her smug manner. Was there a touch of pink in her cheeks?

"Well," she told him, stepping a little closer, "I have to admit, Mister Apple, you flatter me." She took another step closer, and this time there was a distinct eagerness in her manner. She reached up to touch his chin, her hungry eyes locked with his.

"Why don't I see what apples taste like?"

Diamond had expected many things. Perhaps the mouth trick again. Instead she saw something that almost knocked the air from her lungs:

Fleur kissed Big Mac right on the lips.

For a moment there was total silence... then the crowd whistled, cheered and teased the pair. Fleur backed out of the kiss, leaving Big Mac with a dopey smile, but within a second she moved in for another, which only made the crowd even livelier.

Fleur's horn emitted a single quick pulse of magic, and Big Mac went limp. Then, as if they'd been hidden within her very body, eight long, thin spider legs burst out from her back.

Diamond couldn't resist a small shout, thankfully muffled by a similar reaction from the crowd. As they watched, Fleur wrapped the unconscious Big Mac in what appeared to be silk, until only his head remained visible. Fleur grinned and wrapped her hooves around him before turning to the crowd.

"I think this one's a keeper."

The crowd began to laugh, and Diamond breathed easy again.

The bell tower began to chime, everypony looking about at the familiar sound. Fleur pouted as she set her victim aside carefully. "Ooh, too bad, no more treats for tonight. Maybe next year, everypony."

Diamond wilted a little, but then her head snapped back up: this meant Zecora would be coming with the foals soon! She needed to get to the statue, now. She cast one last, furtive glance towards the slumbering Big Mac before returning to the task at hoof.

The rest of the trip was a lot trickier, what with all the adults working to get rid of the scariest of the area's decorations and stands before the foals arrived. No doubt Zecora was going through the motions, working to scare the timid foals back in the main square.

Despite much dodging and many close calls, Diamond reached the Nightmare Moon statue at last. She stood before its glaring countenance and stared up into the fiend's menacing eyes. To think, there was a time when this statue scared the cutie mark off of her. Now she stuck her tongue out at it and laughed at her former naivety.

A curious thought came to her: why did this statue even exist in the first place? Nightmare Moon had never been a beloved figure, so why create a statue in her image? And it was so far out of the way; Diamond glanced around at the surrounding forest, then turned about to see the edge of town over a hundred yards beyond. What could have possibly warranted making this thing, and here of all places?

It felt like such an obvious question. She actually thought herself foalish for having not thought of it earlier.

No time to think on that, she needed a place to hide. Fortunately, the statue's weird location made hiding easy; all Diamond had to do was slip behind some bushes and wait.

She didn't have to for very long. Zecora appeared just as a thick fog engulfed the area, no doubt conjured by a nearby unicorn, or maybe Luna herself. The foals following her all appeared as nervous as Diamond used to be, and she could only laugh at them – silently, of course.

But then her hackles rose, for amongst those ponies was her very own Silver Spoon. Worse, Silver was with them: those blasted crusaders. Diamond's blood boiled again, hotter now than ever before. How could Silver be acting so friendly with them? Why had they so readily accepted her? It made no sense whatsoever and Diamond was determined to correct this crime against nature.

Not now. Silver and the blank flanks would get what was coming to them soon. Diamond still had an unsmeared reputation – unlike somepony she knew – and was determined to maintain it.

She ignored the story. She'd heard it a dozen times – though Zecora always switched her rhyme a bit each year – and it held no interest for her. She only kept her eyes set on Silver Spoon and let the fire in her heart burn like a coal just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

Even with her anger, Diamond couldn't ignore the arrival of Princess Luna. She could criticize the other unsatisfying elements of the foals' Nightmare Night all she wanted, but even she had to acknowledge that the real Nightmare Moon could illicit a distinct terror. Diamond watched as she arrived, diving from dark clouds above the fog and declaring her intention to devour all the foals in Equestria amidst cracks of lightning.

On cue, the foals deposited their candy and fled in terror. Diamond was tempted to join them, but she kept her courage and remained hidden in the bushes. Soon the Scourge of Equestria was chasing the fillies and colts away, laughing maniacally as she flew after them. That was something Diamond never understood: if the foals have already deposited their candy, why would the supposedly appeased Nightmare Moon continue to give chase?

Diamond shook her head; such a silly question. There was no need for logic, it was just a bunch of fun. Used to be. No... Diamond had to acknowledge that there was still some fun in it. After all, she was coming out of her own fear, which left her with that distinct chill she’d been chasing. It wasn't anything like what she'd seen while watching Fleur, but it was something.

As Diamond slowly extracted herself from the bushes – with a bit of grumbling about still more twigs in her mane and tail – she realized that she found the whole debacle passé. One can only be scared of the same thing so many times, she theorized. She glanced about to make sure nopony was around before making her way to the statue.

What a hoard! The adults weren't being stingy with the candy this year, that much was clear. Diamond examined the large pile before her, shaking her head at the waste of good sugar. As far as she knew, most foals sacrificed around half of what they'd attained; tonight must have been a good night, indeed, and to think all the adults were going to get it!

Diamond looked up at Nightmare Moon’s statue and stuck her tongue out at that glaring face. How did this silly tradition even get started? Well, she wasn't about to let all this candy go to unappreciative adults; she pulled off her saddlebag and set it down just outside the hoard before grabbing her favorite treats and stuffing them into as many pouches and pockets as she could.

As time went on and she gathered more and more candy, Diamond noticed something odd. She had the distinct impression that there wasn't as much candy as had been there before. Because she'd taken it? No...

She paused to look up at the statue, but it was as still and energetically lifeless as ever. She felt a strange anxiousness at those harsh eyes, though, as if she were being harshly and justly reprimanded for her actions.

Diamond shook her head forcefully and went back to her gathering. She wasn't some whiny-baby foal! She was a teenager, and teenagers didn't have such silly flights of fancy. It was all in her head. The candy she thought was there ten seconds ago had never really been there in the first place.

Slowly, her excitement began to build. Even with what was left behind… Goddess, this stuff could last her months! She might have to do this every year.

Soon she'd crammed as much candy into her saddlebags as they could hold. There was still plenty left, and Diamond took the opportunity to eat some. Chocolate Tootsie Hoofs, the lip-puckering flavor of Sour Apple Hearts, the fruity blast of a Bursting Star! Diamond might not be a foal anymore, but she still definitely had her sweet tooth.

Even so, she kept her greed in check tonight; it wouldn't do to get sick before she even made it home, and she already had plenty of sweets. Besides, there was no telling when the adults would show up to collect their ill-gotten prize, and Diamond wanted to be long gone by then. This in mind, she hefted her saddle onto her back – lamenting the candy that spilled from the overfilled pockets and bags – and made her way home.

Diamond Tiara had a problem, and she cursed her lack of foresight.

She glared at the tree she'd used to climb down from her room, then at the saddlebag on her back. She'd thought on the matter for several minutes, but by now she simply had to accept that there was no way she'd ever get back in with all the extra weight. At least, not without spilling a good amount of her collection and leaving what would have to be the single most obvious evidence trail in Equestrian history.

There was no way she could go in through the front door; somepony would surely hear it and come to investigate. She pondered her situation for some time, urgently wondering what might solve this dilemma.

Then it occurred to her: the Hidey Hole. She and Silver had found it years ago, and it had always proved a perfect place to keep hidden from prying adult eyes and their pointless rules. It would make for a good spot to leave her candy. She could go back in a few days and bring her spoils in through the front door during the day. What she'd tell the staff and her father at that point... she wasn't sure, but she'd figure something out.

Grinning at her own masterful solution, she made her way into the gardens. Yet as she approached the weak area of the hedges, she slowed. She had a strange, sinking sensation in her belly, an inexplicable anxiety. It was like...

...like she was being watched.

She turned around and peered at the gardens. There was nothing: no servants investigating a strange figure on the property, no foals who had caught her in the act and wanted in on the scheme. Even so, there was an unfamiliar darkness to the place, a darkness that didn't sit well with the presence of the moon overhead or the street lights in the distance. This was an oppressive darkness that hung over her like a fog and chilled her insides.

No, that was ridiculous! She scolded herself for acting so foalish; she was far too old to be afraid of the dark. It was a trick of the mind, nothing more. Nodding confidently, she turned and pushed her way through the hedge and into her little hideaway.

The Hidey Hole – she really needed to find a more mature name for this place – was a small circle of bushes and trees growing densely together. These were the product of the garden's design, a wasted circle of tall grass created by the surrounding paths that left enough room for two ponies to lounge and talk in secret.

Diamond set her saddle down here, confident that it would be safe and untouched when she got back. She took a moment to stare up between the branches at the starlit sky. She'd never been out here at night before, and it was interesting to watch the twinkling lights from her sanctuary. She would have to show Silver—

She recoiled, a sneer on her lips. Silver wasn't here, and if she didn't fix things soon Silver would never be here again. Diamond hated the throbbing in her heart, for it was so horribly unfamiliar and she longed to know what it was. No, she didn't want to know – she just wanted it gone!

With a snarl, Diamond turned away from the candy and pushed her way through the exit. She didn't want to think about Silver, and this place was about the best reminder of her there could be.

When Diamond pushed her head through the hedges, she thought she saw something. It made her pause, and she found herself staring at the gardens with wide eyes. She could have sworn she'd spotted a shadow moving near the entrance, just the slightest motion of somepony hiding in the brush. She kept perfectly still, staring intently as her heart thudded in her ears.

No... no, she was only imagining things. She was just tired. The gardens were not unusually dark and she certainly hadn't spotted somepony on her property.

She pulled the rest of herself from the hedge and moved to the exit, absolutely not moving a little faster than normal. The chill came from the autumn wind, that was all.

Getting back to her room was harder than getting out. It took a lot more physical effort than she was accustomed to in order to climb the tree, and by the time she was back in her room she felt sore, exhausted and not just a little dirty. The dirt was the most pressing thing on her mind, though; she wasn't about to ruin her bedsheets with twigs and grit. Besides, she would have to explain to the servants how such unseemly things had gotten into her bed in the first place.

So, dragging her hooves over the carpet, Diamond made her way to her private bathroom and started filling her oversized bathtub. She put in just the right amount of soap, checked the temperature and rested in the comforting warmth. She scrubbed her coat, used a comb to get the twigs out and made sure her luscious body was free of all unpleasantness.

Once properly cleaned, however, she found herself lingering. It was extremely comfortable in the tub, after all. She leaned back and relaxed, letting her mind go over the day's events.

Silver…

As angry as she'd been, Diamond couldn't really cast Silver away. She was her friend – her only friend, really – and the thought of losing her was too much.

Diamond knew she was mean. She understood that. She enjoyed it. Yet she'd never directed that meanness to Silver before... and she now felt guilty. It was such a new sensation, but for once she wasn't complaining. Perhaps she was too tired for anger. Whatever the case, she resolved that she would go easy on her friend the next time she saw her.

She forgave Silver her mistake. After all, even Diamond wasn't perfect.

Those accursed crusaders, though? They would be in trouble. Especially Sweetie Belle. She initiated contact with Silver; she was the one in need of real punishment.

Smiling pleasantly to herself, Diamond settled herself down and let her heavy eyelids drift closed.

Diamond came to with a start, the water splashing lightly with her jerk. She looked around, her mind momentarily confused as to why she was in the bathtub. Slowly she began to relax, remembering the events of the evening. She sat up, shivering as she took in her surroundings.

The water was cold, only a few trace bubbles left to indicate there had ever been any soap. Her mane hung in loose strands over her face as she observed what seemed to be an unusual brightness to the room, the fluorescent bulbs glaring behind their fogged covers. She wanted to turn the light off and bask in the comforting darkness.

She dragged her weary body out of the tub and let it drain, working to dry her moist coat with a large pink towel. She was eager to jump under her covers and escape the chilly air, but not before wrapping her mane up in a towel. Oh, the burdens of perfection.

It was while she was at her vanity wrapping the towel that she noticed it: a shadowy something slipping past the closed door, visible through the lower crack. She paused and considered it. A servant, perhaps, coming to check in on her? Or perhaps her father come to wake her up.

What time was it, anyway?

"I'll be out in a moment," she called, working to finish setting her towel. She glowered at her baggy eyes in the mirror; she was not at all prepared to be out in public. If only she hadn't fallen asleep in the bath...

The shadow passed by the door once more.

Diamond perked her ears, seeking out the hooffalls. She heard nothing. Strange.

Mane set, she walked to the door. She reached up to turn out the lights; darkness rushed into her world with shocking rapidity. She blinked, caught off guard by the dense black. It was a silly sensation, she knew it, but it almost felt to her as though the shadows couldn't wait to engulf and obliterate the brightness.

Shaking off her moment of odd anxiety, Diamond opened the door and stepped out to a dark, empty bedroom. She frowned and glanced about, shivering as she felt a chill wind against her coat. She glanced to the window, but she'd closed it.

Stranger was the discovery that it was still dark outside. Diamond walked over to her bedside clock to find it was only an hour past midnight. Curious... had she only imagined the shadow at the door?

While she tried to piece things together logically, she realized something even weirder: if her room was dark, and the bathroom lit... how could she have seen a shadow under the door at all?

She glanced at her bed; the covers were thrown aside, twisted as if some wild animal had been trapped beneath the sheets. Had she done that? No, she would have remembered. What in the name of Celestia was going on?

A lingering uncertainty crept its way into her mind. Seeking comfort, she tugged and pulled on the sheets until she found her tiara amongst the tangles. She promptly pulled off the towel about her mane and set the tiara to her head, instantly feeling much more confident.

But then, out the corner of her eye, she saw it: a shadow creeping past her bedroom door.

Diamond squared her shoulders, ready to tell off whichever servant was sneaking around her room. She marched to the door and flung it open before stepping into the hall.

Empty.

Diamond's head swiveled about on her shoulders as she took in the familiar hallway.

Or rather, what used to be familiar. The walls seemed bland in the darkness, the pictures of a loving family appeared subdued and faded. The carpeted floor, once so soft and comfortable, now felt thin and stringy under her hooves. The shadows loomed, pressing in around her and clinging at the same time. There was this strange, tense sensation in Diamond's mind, as if she were being watched by the blackness itself.

"Hello?"

Diamond's voice sounded frail in her own mind. She shook herself and stepped out; this was her home, her domain! She couldn't let strange nighttime sensations rule her. This was all a trick of the mind, some lingering side effect of visiting the scarier side of town.

No answer came to her ears. Determined to prove that the fear bubbling within her was only an illusion, she stepped farther out into the hallway. She cast her gaze to the end of the hall – her parents' room. Nothing but that unusual blackness, which seemed to hold the world in a surreal appearance. It was as though she were gazing through a special lens where all colors faded and cheer had been sucked away.

Diamond made her way to the nearby stairs, conscious of her cautious pace. She tried to tell herself that she was not a foal, that she was a brave girl who could handle her worries. Yet the inexplicable fear crept into her skull in the same way the shadows seems to be grasping for her body. No, that tickling sensation on her coat wasn't even real, of that she could be certain. Just like that strange, foreboding presence in her head.

She stood at the top of the stairs and gazed at the ground floor. Or tried to: she could barely see beyond the first half-dozen steps. It had never been like that before, and she couldn't help wondering why. Was it really that dark down there? Had somepony turned out all the little nightlights she knew were supposed to be there? Why?

"Daddy?" Diamond craned her neck towards the stairwell, turning her head and lifting one ear. "Sebastian? Dawn?"

The sound came, raising her hackles and her ears to the ceiling. It sounded like something breathing, slowly and methodically.

In... out.

There was a hollow noise that seemed to come from a deep place hidden from the decent things of the world. It filled her with dread, for she thought she could sense a degree of eagerness, of excitement in that odd sound.

It wasn't coming from downstairs.

Diamond's breathing slowed, her heart pounded against her ribs. There was a... a presence in the hallway behind her, like something creeping in the darkness. She felt that terrible clinging sensation at her back and the inexplicable, chill touch of the shade. She stiffened, her throat dried and her pulse thundered in her head as the presence loomed closer and closer.

"D... D-Daddy?"

A lone wind pressed against the nape of her neck, that hollow sound pressing in right at her ears.

Breathing: in… out.

Panic struck Diamond. Before she could consider the consequences, she fled down the stairs. The immediate darkness around her receded at her approach, as if aware of and playfully trying to avoid her. She darted past paintings, once familiar, now cold and strange. Her hooves pounded carpet that clung to her fetlocks, and the world seemed encased in icy air.

Diamond slipped into another hallway and paused to collect her breath. She was being ridiculous! It had probably only been a servant, who was now laughing at her for behaving like a child.

Yet all her logical defenses were failing, and she found herself struggling to fend off her terrors. Slowly, seeking some kind of confirmation that her mind was playing games with her, she forced herself to peer around the corner and up the stairs.

What she saw threatened her tenuous hold on logic.

Was it a shadow? Was it a pony? A blackness hovered at the top of the stairs, smoky tendrils swirling and twisting about in a slow, lazy manner. Upon first inspection it seemed merely shadow. The more Diamond looked, however, the more she thought she could make out something within the dark. It was like a shadow within the shadows that was like a pony in form, but not quite enough to really be called equine. It was so faint within its dark cocoon that Diamond could barely tell where the apparition ended and the shadows began.

The unearthly form shifted. What might have been a head was slowly moving, as if to examine the room below. Diamond watched with bated breath, legs locked for her fear. She wanted to flee, yet she didn't dare do anything that might draw its attention.

Then they appeared: two small white dots in the dark. They turned, they rotated, they were like pupils, pupils for eyes that she could not even see.

They slowed.

They stilled.

Diamond sucked in a sharp breath as that intense, terrible feeling of being watched came to her once more. Her chin trembled as the shape began to float down the stairs.

She could wait no longer: she fled.

The house seemed so unnatural to her fear-stricken mind. Nothing looked the same, not a single skeletal table or dark corner or gaping doorway. Everywhere was that mind-numbing blackness, pressing in on all sides and making the universe a gloomy, unreal facade of its former self. She didn't dare look behind her, but somehow she knew with all certainty that the thing, the... the creature was just behind her.

She reached the door to the servant's quarters, but it was closed and locked. Diamond pounded at it with both hooves and called for somepony to let her in, but the door never opened. When she glanced back she saw nothing, only shadows, yet there was no comfort in that sight. She pressed her hindquarters to the door and raised her ears, seeking out that horrid breathing sound.

In... out.

It was just around the corner.

Realizing she'd missed something obvious, she tried the light switch. It would grant her blessed illumination, and perhaps the monster would retreat!

Click.

Darkness.

Click.

Darkness.

A feeble whimper escaped her throat.

Her mind worked frantically as she retreated, looking over her shoulder just in time to see those dark, wispy tendrils floating around the corner. She struggled for some kind of solution, desperately trying to reignite the logical side of her brain.

Light. The bathroom lights still worked. Maybe her bedroom lights would, too.

The idea filled her entire being as she scrambled towards a second flight of stairs and practically flew up them. Down the maze of halls, through her mother's library, back into her overshadowed hallway. Diamond dove into her room, shut the door and locked it. With a sigh, she reached up to her lightswitch.

Click.

Darkness.

Her moment of hope fading, her heartbeat jumping once more, Diamond rushed to her bathroom.

Click.

Darkness.

She stared at the switch for several long seconds, jaw loose and eyes wide. She tried again, and again, and still more. For every moment that the blessed light failed to arrive, she felt her heart sink lower. She began to panic, frantically flicking the switch up and down, but no light would come.

Abandoning the disloyal light switch, Diamond dove under her bed. She moved as close to the center of it as she could, shivering in the darkness and wishing she were anywhere else but this hideous nightmare!

Seconds passed. Then a few more. Nothing happened.

Gradually, Diamond relaxed: her breathing slowed to something just above normal speeds and her heart no longer pounded in her chest. She never totally calmed, but her mind was at least able to work properly.

The first thing to pass through her mind was that the thing must still be around, for the oppressive darkness still lingered in her room. The second was to question why it was after her, for she had been left with the very distinct impression that it wanted her and nopony else.

Had the rest of the household been taken by the creature? Perhaps that was why the serving staff had never answered her furious knocking. Maybe they were dead, or had been taken away or... or whatever this shadowpony was trying to do to her.

Goddess, what about her father? The thought sent a fresh wave of dread crashing through her mind, but she pushed down her fear and resisted the urge to bolt to his room. Eager to pull her mind away from horrid possibilities, she pondered some more and soon came upon her next great mystery:

Where had it come from?

Her ears perked to the sound of a shifting latch, and her breathing came to a stop as she realized her door had just been unlocked.

Ears low, heart hammering, she watched from beneath the bed as her door slowly opened. From across a sea of carpet she looked to find an impenetrable darkness on the other side of her door, and she worked to keep her breathing in check lest she be heard. Smokey tendrils flowed about the air as she watched from the poor view of her hiding place. Her room seemed to grow ever darker.

Diamond's body trembled. Unable to hold the air in her lungs forever, she gasped lightly into her hooves and allowed herself shaky, shallow breaths. A chill filled the air and she once again sensed that dark, foreboding presence. Though she saw no legs, though she heard no hoofsteps, she knew it was there, searching for her.

She flinched at the sound of something heavy climbing on top of her bed, the wooden frame groaning from an unaccustomed weight. She watched the mattress sag; it was all she could do not to scream. As she stared wide-eyed and shaking towards her open door and freedom, dark, tentacle-like shadows slowly squirmed at the edge of her bed as if waiting for her to come within their grasp.

Did it know she was down there? Was it toying with her?

Diamond closed her eyes and struggled with the terror clutching at her brain. She needed to think! She thought of her mother, her father, the servants she liked the most, Silver...

Silver Spoon. If Diamond ever saw her again, she'd hug the filly and never let her go! She could wear any Nightmare Night costume she wanted; she could even boss Diamond around for a change. Diamond didn't care, she just wanted to see a friendly face...

Something cold as ice touched her flank, and it required all of her will to avoid shouting. She glanced back and saw one of those black tendrils stretching out from around the side of the bed and lightly brushing up against her cutie mark. Gritting her teeth and struggling for breath, she scrambled forwards to the front edge of her bed... but didn't dare abandon the presumed safety of the claustrophobic location.

She looked back to see the mobile black form motioning gradually towards her. She slipped sideways a little, just barely avoiding its chilly touch. When the tentacle retracted, she sighed her relief.

An icicle seemed to stab into her shoulder. She retreated with a gasp, realizing a new shadowy appendage was on the other side of her bed. She shifted to her left, then her right. She tried to back up deeper into the confines of the bed's depths only to feel a tendril on her back leg. They poked and prodded, but wouldn't grab.

A terrible thought came to mind: she was being herded. Whatever that abominable black thing was, it wanted her to leave the bed. Specifically, from the front of the bed. How long before it ran out of patience?

She looked over the carpet as she inched forward; her door was wide open. If she moved quickly, she might be able to make it. She crawled a little—

—and jerked to a stop. Her heart hit her throat as she looked back and saw one of those shadows wrapped tightly around her tail. Her breath came in shallow whimpers and tears streamed down her cheeks as she clawed at the floor. Diamond pleaded, the tightness in her chest making it impossible to speak above a desperate whisper. She felt herself being pulled deeper under the bed, and she scrambled at the floor. She turned onto her back and grabbed the mattress supports beneath the bed, pushing on them for leverage and gritting her teeth as her tail kept taught.

Then, as suddenly as it had caught her, the shadow released its hold. Diamond let out a small cry and closed her eyes as she slid along the carpet a short way.

Silence. She kept her eyes closed tight and held her breath. Maybe she'd just fallen off the bed. Maybe she was awake and it had all been a nightmare.

Her ears perked to the sound: a hollow, intense breathing.

In... out.

The presence surrounded her, gripping at her mind.

In... out.

The chill of the air intensified.

In... out.

Diamond's heart pounded in her ears. At last she dared to open her eyes.

Shadows hovered above her bed: a black cloud of nothingness in which she could sense a dark, eager presence. It took her fear-addled brain seconds to see it, but there was something else – a darker shape within – just over the edge of the bed. The shape slowly floated over her: round, indistinct and radiating a sickening aura of shadow that pressed Diamond against the floor like a thick, heinous blanket.

Smoke rose from its ears. The face – for she knew it must be a face – held no distinguishable features, appearing as no more than a terrible blot against the darkness. Yet she could see something... hollow. It might have been a pair of eyes, wide and shifty and devoid of any emotion. Perhaps they were only holes, holes in a skull.

Then a white ball appeared at the center of one of those holes, and another. Small round dots, little more than pupils, staring into her soul as she shivered on the floor. Diamond's heart and mind screamed at her to run, but she could only lay there and gape at this horrid entity that hovered above her. Her throat felt more parched than the San Palomino desert. She opened her mouth and closed it like a fish out of water as she fought for some kind of sound.

She had nothing.

Something changed: like bread dough being pulled apart, the blackness beneath those unnatural eyes stretched out to reveal a white substance. Diamond's breathing came to a stop as she realized they were teeth, flat and pearly and perfect. The shadows spread out on the face into a deliberate, horrifying grin that stretched to the very edges of the creature's black, featureless face.

In... out.

The teeth moved. They formed words, words that set her blood to pounding and the world to darken. No sound escaped that black form, but they were not needed. Diamond knew exactly what phrase the thing was mouthing:

Sweet.

To.

Eat.

It finished the sentence with a stretched, demented grin.

"Daddy!"

Diamond tore out of her room, her body acting on unfiltered adrenalin before she could even register her intentions. She gasped for breath, tears streaming her cheeks as she galloped for her parents' bedroom. She entered without resistance and leapt onto the bed, where her father lay quietly on his side, legs stretched as if seeking something out.

"Daddy, wake up!" She shoved him by the shoulders and screamed in his ear. He wouldn't budge. She looked to the door and saw the shadows deepening. "Daddy, please!"

Filthy Rich didn't move a muscle save for his deep, rhythmic breathing. Diamond pushed and pushed, pleading for him to react, to move, to protect her. There had been so many occasions in her life where she'd told him she needed him, and he'd always responded. Today, for the first time in her life, she really did need him... yet he slumbered on.

"P-please, Daddy, I'm scared!" She looked to the door; it was engulfed in blackness. "Daddy..."

She looked upon his face and took a horrified step back; his mouth had fallen open, and a shadowy tendril flowed from his lips.

In that moment she understood.

Her father wouldn't wake up.

She looked up and let out a strangled gasp; those hideous white orbs lingered just over Filthy Rich's shoulder. The black head, barely discernible amongst the almighty darkness, gradually rose up to reveal that nightmarish grin.

In… out.

Diamond backed to the edge of the bed, shaking her head slowly and sobbing. She couldn't tear her eyes away from that nightmarish face.

What might have been a hoof reached over her father and touched the sheets between them. Wispy tendrils surrounded Filthy Rich, caressing his cheek as those perfect, gleaming teeth parted. They shook in what could only be described as silent laughter.

"Help me!"

Diamond leapt off the bed and ran through the darkness, noting how the thing slowly turned to pursue. She pushed through the shadows and gasped at the chill of the blackness. She slammed right into the opposite wall of the hallway, but ignored the pain and fled. Down the stairs, through the dining room, past the art gallery, to the entrance hall and straight for the front door! She passed through, slammed it closed behind her and pressed her back to the wood.

She stood that way for several seconds, greedily gulping down air as she stared ahead with wide eyes. She paid no attention to her tears.

It didn't care about her father. It had no interest in the servants.

Whatever it was, it wanted her.

Knowing she couldn't have much time, Diamond galloped around the house and into the gardens. She found her secret place – her special Hidey Hole – and dove inside. Nopony had ever found her there. Maybe it wouldn't, either.

Sitting next to her discarded saddlebags, she struggled to control her crying. She silently swore that she would never, ever make unreasonable demands of her parents again, or argue with Silver Spoon, or bully the other kids. She would even be nice to the crusaders. If only she could survive this horrible, horrible night!

She looked down at her saddlebag, mind still working to regain some semblance of self control. She closed her eyes and sucked in a slow, long breath, then released. And another: long breath, release. She maintained this for a few seconds, ignoring all other considerations. Gradually, she began to calm down.

So when she opened her eyes again, Diamond was aware enough to notice something odd. She bent low over her saddlebag. All the candy was gone, save for only a few unopened treats in the deepest pouches.

Part of her was stunned; who could have found her little hiding place, and how could they have taken all the candy she'd collected? Why not just take the whole saddle? Another part of her thought that this was an unimportant issue. She had demonic shadowponies chasing after her, candy could wait!

But then she closed her eyes and saw that black, leering face.

'Sweet to eat,' that was what the creature had said. At the time she'd thought it intended to eat her, and maybe it did, but...

She looked up to the sky, hoping to get some inspiration from the stars, but the sky was as black as pitch. It was an unnatural darkness, a shadowy blanket that filled Diamond with anxiety. What if all of Ponyville was encased in this...

...this eternal night.

In a flash, the Nightmare Night traditions came back to her: collect candy, deliver it to the statue, don't get eaten. She'd always thought it was just an old mare's story, something conjured up to ensure the adults got their unfair share of the night's hoard. After all, Nightmare Moon was never historically known to eat foals.

Yet what if...

She pored over the pouches, seeking out every last scrap of candy she could find. It wasn't much, not enough to even half-fill one of the pouches. Still, it was something. She tried not to think on the fact that she'd stolen this candy from the statue, that she'd gone so far as to eat some of it right there at Nightmare Moon's hooves. Surely the monster wouldn't go so far as to want to eat her for those few pieces of candy?

After quickly untying the pouch from the saddlebag, Diamond set it around her neck. She knew she would get only one chance, and she prayed to Celestia her hunch was right. Satisfied with her decision, she turned and pushed her way through the hedge—

Her legs locked, her eyes widened; the creature was at the exit of the gardens, its two white orbs aimed directly at her. It still had that insane grin.

They gazed at one another for several long, intense seconds. Diamond's mind scoured for some sort of response, a reaction that would spare her the icy grip of those shadows.

"I..."

She swallowed, tried again. "I'm s-sorry." She took a tentative step forward, ears low and eyes locked with the creature's. "I'm giving it back. I p-promise, I’ll f-feed you. Please... let me pass?"

The grin widened. The blackness around it shifted, forming those horrible, now-familiar words once more:

Sweet.

To.

Eat.

The shadowpony moved forward, dark tentacles grasping slowly for her, teeth parting to reveal… blackness. Diamond turned and fled with a shout, heart hammering louder than her hooves as she darted into the gardens. Though her hold on reason was tenuous, she was still able to navigate the familiar path to the back exit. The creature was always there, not quite fast enough to catch her but never out of sight. The darkness kept pressing her in, filling her with that claustrophobic sense of dread.

Diamond burst out of the gardens and kept running, making her way to Ponyville. She moved as quickly as her legs could carry her, gasping for breath and functioning on pure adrenalin and terror. She had only one focus: get to the statue, return the candy. It would leave her alone then, it had to!

Ponyville was enshrouded in that same empty blackness as Diamond's home. No stars twinkled in the sky, and even the moon was imperceptible amidst the dark. Once-cheerful homes now seemed dull, grey and hulking. She thought she could see unnatural movements in the windows, beneath the foundations, behind the corners. Though the creature no longer seemed behind her, the sense of being observed, of being scrutinized by hungry eyes wouldn't leave.

Diamond tried a few houses, knocking on doors and calling for help. No assistance ever came. She found the bedroom window of Dinky Doo and saw her blanketed in that same shade as her father had been, verifying that Diamond was alone.

The crunch of her hooves in the grass sounded loud and obnoxious in her ears. Every now and then a chill wind would make her shiver. Sometimes it came suddenly, making her yelp at the thought that she'd been discovered by the monster, but always she found herself alone. Yet at no time did she ever believe that she'd escaped, for that fear-inducing sense of a presence never faded from her mind.

It was out there, hidden amongst the shadows.

Watching.

Nightmare Night decorations still filled the main street of the town. What Diamond had once considered silly and foalish now filled her with uncertainty. The fake bats didn't seem so fake anymore; the smiles of the pumpkins were leering and malevolent; the flapping arms of the bedsheet ghosts seemed to grasp for her. She kept her body low and her eyes forward, determined to ignore what her mind told her was fake. Her hammering heart would not win out.

That conviction barely remained as she reached the side of town where the adults had played. Those zombies were still shambling on the porch. They leaned over the railing for her with clicking teeth and rotting faces; she gave them a wide berth. She nearly bolted when the flight of real bats bombarded her from the great oak tree's limbs, their leathery wings beating at her face and their tiny squeaks assaulting her ears. She was in a constant state of duress and borderline panic, but she didn't run, for she had the horrible fear that fleeing would only attract the creature's attention.

At last Diamond had escaped the town and entered the thin woods. The trees' limbs seemed to grasp for her, like gnarled wooden claws. Trunks hulked over her like ominous sentinels. Leaves shifting in the wind sounded like whispered reprimands, curses and promises of ill deeds to be done. Always there was the darkness, invading every available space with its all-encompassing gloom.

Diamond felt at the pouch on her chest, reminding herself of the importance of her task. She was almost there; she needed only to deposit her candy and let the fiendish thing eat its fill. Surely it would then go back to wherever it came from and free the town of this terrible curse.

Her ears perked to a sound so alien in this blasted environment that it gave her pause: voices. She moved forward at a trot, praying that this wasn't some trick of the nightmare. If there was anypony still awake to help her, she would swear off candy for the rest of her life!

She rounded the crest of the hill and gasped: there, standing before the statue of Nightmare Moon, were three individuals. She recognized two: Zecora and Fleur de Lis, both out of their costumes. The third was the pony who'd been masquerading as a vampire, the one whose name she couldn't recall. All three stared ominously at the statue.

Diamond's heart soared, hope flared in her brain. She opened her mouth to call out—

—and felt the chill envelop her face. Her attempt to scream came out as little more than a terrified, muffled noise as something tightened about her muzzle and held it firmly closed. Even as she reached up to try and free herself, she felt it: that looming, damning presence. Her entire body grew cold as ice and her eyes widened to a sound directly in her ear that nearly stopped her heart and froze her mind:

In... out.

The shadow wrapped around her hind legs. Diamond fell to her barrel, pleading sounds leaking through her clamped lips. She squirmed as she was dragged back, across the grass, into the bushes, into the dark of the forest.

"It has to be after one of the foals."

Diamond's wide eyes jerked up; Zecora, Fleur and the stranger were trotting towards town, just barely visible through the leaves.

Zecora's familiar voice reached her ears. "Fear this, I do indeed, it suits the creature’s gluttonous greed."

Diamond tried to shout, clawing at the dirt with her forehooves, but the shadows tightened about her free legs and prevented her thrashing.

"I suggest we check Mr. Rich's house first," the stranger declared in an authoritative tone. "I'm pretty sure I spotted his daughter sneaking about the wrong side of town tonight."

Cold seeped into Diamond's body, as if she were lying in a pool of iced water. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she squirmed. The ponies were walking right by her now, not five feet away.

"Do you think she refused to give up her candy?" Fleur asked.

"I think she stole some candy," the stranger corrected.

They walked past, ignorant of Diamond's muffled screams. Always there was that hideous breathing in her ear:

In... out.

Zecora's voice was subdued with worry. "Let us pray she ate none of the spoils, else there is no salvation regardless of toils."

The stranger's head bowed as they crossed the crest of the hill. "Then we’d best hurry."

They were gone. Diamond let her chin hit the leaf-strewn grass and sobbed.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that pale grin and those beady white eyes. The demonic entity seemed to be mocking her, the face bobbing up and down while the eyes spun in disturbing, unsynchronized ways.

Then it began to drag her through the dirt and twigs and leaves. Diamond struggled, she emitted pleading sounds, she wept. Soon she was out of the woods and in the clearing, and the creature released her forelegs. She promptly began to thrash once more, her hooves digging into the grass as she offered up muffled shrieks. The pouch, still filled with candy, dragged along the ground just before her muzzle.

In her squirming motions and frantic kicks, her tiara was knocked off. It landed sideways in the grass and, for a terrifying moment of clarity, filled her vision and mind. Diamond thought of her father, of how much she loved him. She thought of her mother, always working so hard. Across her brain came so many faces, faces of foals and adults alike who she'd been mean to, whom she'd never respected.

She saw Silver. The one pony who put up with her horrid nature.

The friend she'd cast aside.

There was a pressure in her hind legs. She looked back to the candy-less base of the statue and saw that she was being dragged into the soft, black soil beneath.

The terror returned. Diamond fought to free her lips, but her hooves passed through the black tendril as if it really were only darkness.

She was buried to her hips.

Hooves tore at the grass, tears fell from her cheeks.

The soil reached her chest.

The cold had seeped into her very bones. Her upper legs went stiff as the dirt pressed them to the sides of her head.

The grass tickled her chin.

She shook her head frantically, struggling with all her might to open her lips and scream.

Darkness overtook her as the dirt covered her head. Her hooves wriggled at the air, seeking something to grasp. The rope around her neck snapped.

Diamond couldn't move. She couldn't hear anything save her muffled cries and pounding heart, couldn't breathe for the dirt in her nostrils. She might have shivered at that intense cold were it not for the stifling pressure on all sides.

She remained perfectly still, staring into the black abyss.

A white dot appeared. Another.

The darkness parted to form a disturbing, cheshire grin.

The teeth opened wide.

All around Ponyville, the looming shadows began to fade. Colors regained their brightness, the chill winds abated. High in the sky, the stars shimmered and the moon revealed her glorious face, basking the world in its loving glow.

At the foot of a statue lay two innocuous objects.

A small shadow arose, grasping the pouch around the center and pulling it swiftly beneath the grass.

Only a tiara remained to indicate that anything was amiss.

If one checked the face of the statue, one might notice how those lips, usually snarling, seemed to be holding the slightest of grins.

Author's Note

This idea came to me when I was reading another author's story (I'm sorry to say I can't recall the name of the story). In the story, the main character went on a date with Twilight on Nightmare Night, and the tale of Nightmare Moon was retold. It abruptly got me to wondering: if we know Nightmare Moon doesn't really eat foals, where did the story itself come from? Going with the 'many legends are based on fact' concept, I devised this as something of an explanation... without actually revealing all the facts.

This can be considered a sequel to "A Challenge for Fleur," which established the potential for a relationship between Fleur and Big McIntosh. Those who know my Fleur AU will also recognize the pony dressed as a vampire for the festival. It also explains why Fleur is in Ponyville in the first place. Well, two reasons.

Casket Case

The rain pounded, heavy and thick, on Due Date’s umbrella. It was fitting, really. His grandsire hadn’t stipulated anything about the weather in his will, but he likely would have approved. Which was good. The old guy deserved to have a perfect evening. Or as perfect as these evenings got.

Due trudged up the hill, occasionally checking under his jacket to ensure the bottle was there. The building, narrow and tall, appeared as pristine as ever even in this dismal weather. Its bricks were a brilliant crimson that the water dripped off of in droplets that seemed almost viscous. The black-shingled roof appeared as new and fresh as the day he’d helped put it down. No windows decorated the simple structure, only a lone doorway.

Before that doorway a lone unicorn mare stood, her expression grim. She was a pretty thing, grey coat with a green mane so dark it nearly appeared black in this dim lighting. She was dressed in a sharp, pressed business shirt and tie, as usual, and her mane was set in an immaculate ponytail beneath her own umbrella. She held a notepad in her magical aura, but for now was ignoring it in favor of Due’s arrival.

“It’s almost over, Mr. Date.” She had a low voice. Due always found it distracting. Sometimes he felt he could listen to her talk forever.

Not that she’d want anything to do with a skinny pegasus like him. “That’s right, Miss Line. One more night and you’ll be rid of me.”

As always, she maintained her prim, neutral attitude, never rising to his bait. He found it enthralling. “I’ve said it before, Mr. Date, and I’ll say it again: your grandsire’s last will and testament may be the strangest my office has ever processed. You do have the drink?”

He nodded and shifted his jacket with a wing, just enough to ensure she could see the bottle of alcohol he’d brewed by his own hoof. “It’ll taste like shit I imagine, but Granpa gets what Granpa wants.”

“Then everything is in order.” Miss Line used a perfectly sharpened pencil to scribble on her notepad. Tucking it into her panniers, she stepped aside. “I’ll be across the street, watching from the carriage. Not that I don’t trust you, you understand, but—”

“I know.” He turned from her green eyes, as distracting as her voice, and stared at the simple, black oak door. “The old guy was very specific.”

She nodded, face passive. “And we like to follow such instructions to the letter. As specified, you must remain in the structure until dawn or you forfeit your inheritance.”

“Like I give a changeling’s flank about my inheritance.” Adjusting his grip on the umbrella, Due cast a slow glance around the area. It was only him and the lawyer. And the rain. His grandsire’s house remained hidden a quarter mile away amongst the trees. As the sky darkened, the forest beyond seemed to fall away. “When did this whole idea start?”

Miss Line cocked her head. There was uncertainty in her gaze, a rare thing. “Idea?”

“Sitting up with the dead.” He cast a glance her way. “It seems… unnatural. I know ponies do it all the time, but why?”

“Oh.” Miss Line followed his gaze as it went to the building. “It started a century before Nightmare Moon’s defeat, if I recall correctly. I don’t know they reasoning behind it, I’m afraid.”

He grunted and stepped closer to the door. “It’s alright. Just a thought.”

She nodded and turned for the carriage, now lost among the darkness and rain. “Very well. Good night, Mr. Date. And good luck; I know this must be very uncomfortable for you.” He watched her go until she, too, disappeared in the darkness. Idly, he wondered how she intended to ensure he remained in the mausoleum under these conditions. He felt sorry for her, being stuck out here, waiting in a carriage for some poor sod like him to pay his dues.

Closing his umbrella, he set it by the door and let the rain wash over him. When he cast one last look around, the rain and darkness left him with a feeling of standing alone atop an island. Anything could be out there in the shadows. In the back of his mind came a primal instinct, a marked sensation of danger on the approach. It was as if some ancient carnivore would be upon him at any moment. The thick downpour, growing thicker, and the rumble of thunder would mask any other sounds. If a manticore stepped up behind him, or a cockatrice slithered in his path, he’d never know until it was too late.

Silly thoughts. Idle thoughts. Due wasn’t a foal anymore. He’d learned long ago to ignore the paranoia, even if it was a constant. His parents took him to a psychologist once, got told he was just the nervous type. They knew better. So did he.

Something was coming. He knew it. He’d known all his life. It was better to let it come than worry over it. With a grunt, he pushed his way inside.

“Granpa?”

Broad Axe raised his head as Due approached on tiny legs. “Duey? You’re supposed to be in school.”

Due scowled up at his broad-shouldered relative. “I know, but school stinks.”

The hulking yellow stallion grinned at this and set the lumber he’d been carrying down. Beside him stood the large round foundations of a new building. “Is that so. Why?”

Due didn’t have to think on his response. “Because Mrs. Eyes smells like prunes. And Saltine Crackers keeps making fun of me. And stupid Hankey keeps trying to put bows in my tail and telling me she’s gonna marry me someday.” He stuck his tongue out with a gagging sound.

Broad Axe laughed boisterously before settling on his haunches. “You think that’s terrible now, my boy? Wait until you’re older and little miss Lace Handkerchief becomes a proper mare. Then you’ll accept as many bows as she can give you for just five minutes of her time.”

“No, I won’t,” Due grumbled, climbing onto one of the round foundations and flopping to his barrel with a pout. “Girls are weird. And too giggly. And they like bows way too much.”

His grandsire hummed seriously. “Have it your way, I suppose. But you know your mother’s going to be upset you’re skipping school.” He turned for the wagon loaded with lumber, setting to work on gathering more of the boards.

Due’s ears folded against his head and he nodded. “I know.” He watched his grandsire for a while, not daring to say how happy he was that the old pony wasn’t demanding he go back. “Whatcha buildin’?”

“A porter.”

“What’s a porter?”

With the last of the boards removed from the wagon, Broad Axe settled next to the colt and wiped the sweat from his brow. “A special building. It’s going to be very important down the line.”

“Why?”

The stallion looked down at him, lips quirked in a sideways smile. He glanced about the hill, as if anticipating somepony listening in, the lowered his head close to Due’s. “Can you keep a secret?” He waited for Due’s eager nod. “Someday, this body of mine’s going to stop moving. When that day comes, this porter is going to belong to you. And the thing that will happen inside is very important. More than you can possibly imagine.”

Due jumped to his hooves to grin up at his grandsire. “Is it gonna hide your treasure? Papa says you’ve got lots and lots of treasure.” He wasn’t going to ask where said treasure came from. Not yet, at least.

Chuckling, Broad ruffled the child’s mane. “It will hold treasure, but not the kind you buy things with or a dragon hoards. You’ll understand when you’re older.” Standing up once more, Broad Axe patted himself around the chest, the legs, and the sides. “Hmm… Yes, I’d say this body’s got another twenty years going for it. I’ve become quite good at guessing these things, y’know.”

Frowning, Due replied, “Huckleberry says words like those are why ponies think you’re crazy. Are you crazy, Granpa?”

Another of those loud laughs echoed amongst the forest. “No, my boy, I am most certainly not crazy! But I won’t blame anypony for thinking otherwise. People get pretty kooky once they get old enough, and I am pretty darn old.”

“You’re not that old,” Due corrected dutifully. “You’re only, like, forty.” He was glad his asked his father about that a couple weeks ago.

“In body, perhaps. In soul?” Broad Axe chuckled. Due wished he knew what was so funny. “I’m afraid I’ve got work to do. No time to dilly-dally, like some colts I know.”

Due hopped off the foundation and puffed out his chest. “I’m not dilly-dallying! I can help build your porter thing.”

Broad Axe paused to rub his chest, staring at the horizon with a somber expression. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s awful hard work, and you’re awful small. And your mother will be after my hide if she found out I let you skip school.”

“But school sucks,” Due reiterated, clearly making a unassailable argument. “I’d rather be here, helping you.”

“And avoiding bows in your tail?”

Due gagged. “Yeah, and that.”

When Broad Axe next looked at him, it was with a cool, focused stare. Due met those glittering blue eyes and felt something… heavy. He felt like he was being… he didn’t know what, but it made him feel so very small. His little heart started to thud in his ears and he sank to his knees. His grandsire had never looked at him like that before. Was he in trouble? Did he say something wrong? Papa would redden his flank when he said bad words. Granpa was a lot bigger than Papa.

But then, as quickly as it had begun, the feeling faded and Broad Axe smiled warmly. “You’ll do fine, Due Date. You’ll do fine, indeed.”

Breathing out a long sigh, Due stood up on wobbly legs. “S-so I can help?”

“Sure. In fact…” The stallion lowered his head to Due’s level again, smirking as he met the colt’s eyes. “Anytime Mrs. Eyes’ prune smell gets overwhelming, or the bullies get too annoying, or little Miss Handkerchief is getting to friendly with her bows, you come running to me and we’ll work on this porter together. Sound good?”

“Yes!” Due hopped forward and wrapped his forelegs around his grandsire’s face. “Yes, yes, yes! You’re the best, Granpa!”

The heavy rain drummed on the roof. A flash of lightning brought forth a crash of thunder just before the door closed behind Due Date. The four torches in their sconces flickered, casting shadows in a bare room. The floorboards were sturdy beneath his hooves, a testament to their endurance over the years. Pulling out the bottle, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it into the corner.

The torches didn’t provide much in the way of lighting. Which, as with all things in the building’s design, was perfectly appropriate. Old Broad Axe had planned out everything to a T, hadn’t he? Near the back of the building’s lone room, a massive cement dais held at eye level a granite, open sarcophagus. The sarcophagus was intricately decorated with all sorts of filigree featuring flowers, vines, butterflies and even a few hummingbirds. A phoenix was nestled among some branches in the center of the design, its wings spread and its head bowed. The lid could just be seen leaning against it on the opposite side.

Due set the bottle on the sarcophagus’s corner and leaned heavily against the stone. There, lying on his back and appearing as serene as Celestia, lay Broad Axe. “Granpa,” he muttered over the thrumming rain, “if I’d known I was helping you build your mausoleum, I might have had second thoughts.”

Twenty years. Just like he’d said. Due couldn’t help but wonder how the old guy knew it. He settled down by the sarcophagus and rested his forelegs on the stone. It was cold, like ice. An unnatural cold. It sent little shivers up his legs and down his spine. From here, his grandsire’s face was almost masked by the shadows. When they flickered in just the right way, he could imagine the old stallion was looking at him. It was an expectant gaze. Impatient. Excited. Due had to lean a little closer to confirm that, no, the eyes were not open.

That didn’t make the feeling go away.

Due supposed he was expected to talk. What else could he do? “Sorry, it’s just you and me.” Taking the bottle, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and spat it directly into the sarcophagus, then put the bottle back. He wasn’t quite prepared for that step. “Everypony who liked you kicked the bucket before you did. All the rest hate your flank. If you subscribe to the whole ‘outlive your enemies’ thing, then you performed poorly.”

He thought on that peculiarity. Another slow, long gaze at the empty mausoleum reminded him of just how true the statement was. He once knew so many ponies. “What happened to our family? We used to be so close, and then…” Settling with his back to the sarcophagus, Due tried to think of old days. Happier days. “I ever tell you about the ‘thing’ me and Hanky had going?”

The memories brought a smile to his lips. He could see the mare so vividly sometimes, with her long brown mane and orange coat. Her penchant for dresses with short skirts. The lust in her eyes. “We must have gotten together a hundred times. She’d find me, tease me, bring me to bed… or wherever we happened to be at the moment. Then she’d grow bored and disappear. Broke my heart the first few times. I finally realized it was all a game to her. And she always came back, wanting more. Sometimes I hated her for it, but y’know? There were times when I think I legitimately loved her. I never got that feeling with anypony else.”

He heaved a sigh, staring at his hooves. “She died while on vacation in Fleece. They say someone pushed her off a cliff. Couldn’t prove it, but that’s what they say. That was during that four-year vacation you took. The one where you disappeared without a trace, leaving nothing but a note saying it was a ‘journey to settle business’.” He snorted at that. “Scared the life out of Dad. Literally. Caught the Trots and died not two weeks after you left. I lost a lot of important ponies while you were gone. Uncle Fly Lure’s boat capsizing, cousin Cross Rocket hanging himself at that ski resort, my buddy Harpoon getting in a bar fight with gryphons while on deployment. They dropped like flies.”

He raised his head. The flickering torches made the mausoleum feel even smaller than it really was. And yet the sheer emptiness of it made it feel like some great cavern. Tartarus, perhaps. Trapped in the Eternal Prison with nothing but his grandsire’s corpse for company. He shivered and stood, no longer wishing to be alone. Yet there was only one pony who could keep him company now. He stared at Broad Axe’s motionless form and tried to think of other things. Better things.

“I thought I’d lost you, too,” he muttered, leaning yet again on the sarcophagus. “Why not? Everypony else was croaking. You probably already had.”

“But then, at Mom’s funeral… there you were. Big ol’ Granpa Axe, ready to sweep me up and comfort me. It was perfect timing on your part, y’know?” He smiled and took the bottle in his hooves. “When everypony else was gone, you were there. That’s why I’m doing this for you, Granpa. You were there for me. Seems only fair.”

He stared at the bottle, taking in its green color as the liquid sloshed within. Taking a whiff, he coughed at the heavy scent of rosemary. “Where the hay did you learn the recipe for this stuff, anyway?” He peered at Broad Axe, shaking the bottle at him. “I tried to look it up, you know. Couldn’t find it. Went to a brewery to ask a guy about it, and he thought the recipe was completely bonkers. Don’t blame him, either.” With that, he took a pull of the intense alcohol. It burned on the way down, blistering his taste buds with a twisted combination rosemary, sassafras, and citrus. Which was hideous, but at least they masked the more obscure ingredients.

After gulping the gunk down, Due let out a long gasp and hissed against the instant headache the stuff slammed into him. “Cadance’s glorious flank, that’s nasty! Seriously, Granpa, were you trying to kill me before I could inherit your crap? Because I think it’s working.” Wishing he’d brought some water inside, Due spat on the ground. “You’re lucky I love you, old guy, because that’s the only reason I’m going through with these silly demands of yours.”

His stomach twisted in an effort to rebel against that love. Due leaned heavily against the sarcophagus, carefully placing the bottle on the corner once more as a precaution. Slumping to the floor, he settled against the stonework and waited for the hideous squirming in his guts to calm. Breathing in slow gasps helped fight the nausea and pain. He didn’t care what that doctor he’d asked said, this stuff had to be killing him. “It might not kill you, but it’ll sure make you wish you were dead,” he mumbled, smiling with no small effort.

A crash of lightning shook the mausoleum. The heavy rain continued its determined pounding, as if in an effort to breach the sturdy roof. The noise drowned out Due’s concentrated efforts to breathe his way to a clear head and still stomach. When that did little to sooth the beast, he raised his head to examine his surroundings. He needed some kind of distraction. Anything.

He found it in the corner, near the ceiling. It was… a face. Stone. A statue. It was of a mare with a short, wild mane. Intricately carved, and made with such dedicated attention to detail that it was easy to imagine she was real. If Due didn’t know better, he’d think the poor thing had been petrified by a cockatrice, had her head cut off just at the shoulders, and been mounted as a trophy. There was a forlorn, weary look to her gaze. Due couldn’t help thinking she knew some ancient, terrible truth he never would.

When had his grandsire added such a strange decoration? And if there was one…

Sure enough, there was another statue on display on the opposite corner. This one depicted a stallion, smaller in size but broader in the face. His head tilted back to gaze at the ceiling with a hazy, lost expression, as though he were drunk. Or perhaps drugged. Due wondered if he had a similar look on his own face. He hoped not; that stallion appeared wretched.

“You had weird… weird taste, Granpa,” he muttered between wheezes. His stomach felt composed enough now to allow for movement, so he lurched to his hooves. He trotted a small circle, trying to get some energy back into his legs, but he felt so horribly weak. What in Equestria had that stuff done to him?

At last feeling marginally better, he approached the sarcophagus and took the bottle in his hooves. “I hope one taste is all you needed from me, because love or no, I’m not having another.” Leaning over the edge was very uncomfortable, so he flapped his wings and hovered. There was just enough room for him to fly so long as he kept perpendicular to Broad Axe’s position. “Now. You said you wanted the rest, right?”

He reached down, paused, pulled his hoof back. His grandsire… On any given day, he would have happily hugged the stallion. Shared a hoofbump. As a foal, he’d been all for snuggles. But now, with that body all cold and lifeless? He looked to the bottle in his hoof, then to Broad Axe’s shadowed face. The face that he swore was watching him, even with the eyes closed in eternal slumber. Due’s stomach twisted as the old, horribly familiar feeling of being watched returned to him. He glanced over his shoulder at the two statues near the ceiling. Still in the same poses. Even so, they struck him as peculiar.

“Sod it,” he growled, reaching down to touch his grandsire’s chin. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting. Maybe you think this gunk is so nasty it’ll jolt you back to life?” Prying the mouth open with one hoof, he carefully poured what was left of the alcohol inside. It soon filled Broad Axe’s mouth and poured down the sides of his cheeks, but Due didn’t stop pouring. He wanted it all? He’d get it all. Serve the old guy right for making him drink that piss.

“There,” he growled once the last drop was loosed. He set the bottle aside and landed, crossing his arms with a huff. “Damn it, Granpa, why’d you have to pick me? I don’t want your damn money, or the house, or… or… any of it! You think giving me that crap will make up for this? It doesn’t.” He clenched his eyes shut, pushing back the tears and the nausea at the same time. “It doesn’t. You were all I had left, you stupid old goat. Livin’ for me ain’t gonna be much fun anymore without you around to gloat to.”

Settling back to the floor, he grimaced at the squelching sound his stomach made. “Oh, Sisters, I feel like I’m getting eaten from the inside.” Blood started to pound in his skull, a steady thrumming that competed with the rain and the occasional lightning for dominance in his ears.

The torches flickered in a wind he never felt.

Due dutifully held the wooden stake in place as Broad Axe banged it deeper into the ground with his bare hoof. “Granpa? Why are we building a box?”

His grandsire finished pounding the stake down before answering. “What we’re building is a mold. We have to make it nice and tight and at perfect angles too.”

“Oh.” Due glanced around the empty porter, which was complete in every way save the door. “What’s a mold?”

Broad Axe paused, brow furrowing as he considered his answer. “Well… You know how when it snows, and you lie in the snow, it makes a perfect impression of you?”

Due’s eyes lit up. “Like when we made snow-pegasi last winter, right?”

“Yes, exactly.” His grandsire nodded with a grin and ruffled the colt’s mane. “Just like that. A mold is the same thing, only made out of wood or metal. Anything poured into it will look like what you want it to.”

“Ooooh, okay.” Grabbing the next stake, Due flapped his little wings to help him balance on two legs. He carefully positioned the stake in the middle of the big X his grandsire had marked on the ground. “So we’re making a mold for a box.” Cocking his head, he looked up at the towering stallion. “So what are we gonna pour into it?”

With a toothy smirk, Broad Axe replied, “Molten rock.”

Little wings buzzed. “Really?”

“Really.” The stallion slammed his hoof into the stake once, twice, three times, and it was done. He stepped back and made a wide gesture with his hoof at the four stakes. “We’ll get all the ingredients and mix it together. It’ll be liquid rock, and we’ll pour it into the mold. Then, after a few days, the rock will get hard. We’ll take away the wood and have a big block made of rock. Isn’t that cool?”

Due could already see their box, all shiny and brown and holding bubbling, red hot lava. He giggled and bounced. “That’s awesome! I can’t wait to tell Hanky.”

Broad Axe’s eyebrow shot up along with his perking ears. “You mean the young filly who puts bows in your tail?”

“No! I mean… Maybe.” Due scowled at his grandsire’s smile. He knew that smile, it was the same one his mother got when she thought she was being smart. It made his cheeks burn as hot as the lava that would soon be filling their mold. “She stopped doing that.”

“Still wants to marry you, though. Right?” Broad Axe laughed as Due gagged.

They started nailing boards to the stakes, using exactly the right ones as Due’s grandsire instructed and putting some kind of smelly grey muck between each pair. After a while of this slow but steady work, Due asked, “What are we putting in the lava box?”

Chuckling, Broad Axe replied, “The block is for a reliquary.”

Due’s tongue twisted and his eyes went cross. “Reli… Rel… Huh?”

“Re-li-qua-ry.”

The colt frowned and tried again, this time speaking with careful slowness. “Rewliquery.”

“Close enough.” Carefully placing some of the muck with a spade, Broad Axe explained, “Reliquaries hold objects of incredible importance. Legendary treasures, or objects of cultural value. Princess Luna’s spear, for example, is held in a reliquary in Hollow Shades.”

Due cocked his head at this strange news. “Why would she leave it there? What if she needs it?”

“Another board, please. Long one.” Broad Axe took a drink from his water bottle as Due hurried to get the requested item. “Luna’s spear was put there many, many moons ago. I’m sure she uses something else now.”

“I hope so. I like the princess. I’d be sad if she got hurt ‘cause she didn’t have her spear.” Carrying the board on his back, Due brought it to his grandsire, then held it in place while Broad Axe nailed it to the stakes. “What are we putting in the rewliquery? Do you have some kind of ancient treasure?” He sucked in a sharp gasp. “Is it a spear? Does Mom know?”

Broad Axe hummed, scratching at his chin with the hammer’s claw. “It is treasure. It will be ancient. And it will be young. It’s both.”

Due’s ears folded down as he pondered that answer. “Crazy talk again. How can it be old and young at the same time?”

“Good question. Tricky to answer.” That wry smirk returned to his grandsire’s face. “And it’s not a spear.”

“Aww…”

Broad Axe leaned closer to Due and spoke in a whisper. “But I promise you, my boy, it is legendary. What I place here will be incredibly important. For my future and for yours.”

There was that intensity in the stallion’s gaze again, one that spoke of a calm focus and hidden passion. The same stare that left Due Date feeling as tiny as he really was, and like there was a mighty predator coming for him. He shrank back, but couldn’t look away. “M-mine?”

His grandsire nodded. When he spoke, it was with a seriousness that seeped deep inside Due, leaving him on the tips of his hooves. “I want you to promise me something, Due Date. Can you do that?”

Without asking, Due Date knew this might be the most important promise of his life. Words would be wasted. He nodded and hoped it would be good enough.

Broad Axe set a hoof to his withers. “Your life will be short. Shorter than you think. Shorter than anypony expects. With time so limited, you should take it for yourself. Don’t fret about what others think of you. Figure out what you want to do with your life, Duey, so that when your date comes due, you’ll have done as much as possible. Live wild. Live free. Live outside everypony’s expectations. Can you promise me that?”

He was right, this was not at all like the usual promises adults asked of him. This felt big. Important. More important than Due Date. He didn’t want to disappoint his grandsire, but he also didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep. “I… I-is it okay if I promise to try?”

The stallion didn’t answer for some time. He only maintained his quiet, unblinking gaze. Due Date was sure he could see stars in those midnight blue eyes, eyes that ran deeper than any ocean. Due usually loved looking into those eyes, for they brought to mind adventure, excitement, and wildness. But today, they held a different light. He saw not stars and glory but emptiness. Hunger. A predatory eagerness. Due squirmed beneath those blue galaxies, but could not bring himself to tear his gaze away. “G-Granpa?”

Then, the eerie feeling of being stalked faded. Broad Axe smiled, a warm, comforting smile that made Due wonder why he’d ever been so nervous. “That’s just fine, kid.

Nopony could ask for more than that.”

Lightning crackled outside, jolting Due out of his reverie. The world spun as he tried to place where he was and what he’d been doing. Shadows danced, making him think there was something moving beyond the light of the dim torches. Which was nonsense. Just his lifelong paranoia coming back to haunt him. There was nothing in this mausoleum. Nothing but…

Right. Granpa Axe.

Groaning, Due picked himself up off the floor. “What in Equestria did that gunk do to me?” His legs trembled beneath his weight, his breathing came in rasps. A black claw shifted in the dark. Glowing blue eyes watched him in the twitching shade. His heart battered his ribs.

“Stop it, Due,” he hissed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Nothing’s out there. It’s just you and Granpa. The Boogiepony isn’t real.” He forced his eyes opened.

A hundred faces stared back.

“What the hay?” Due leapt back, banging his flank on the sarcophagus. Statues, a mob of them. On the walls, the ceiling, clogging the floor, barring the door. Each one of a different pony. Each one with a different pose. All busts. All with shimmering blue eyes that pierced his heart and left him gaping and gasping. They twisted and wavered in the wild shadows, a thousand silent voices shrieking against the pounding rain and roiling thunder. Their breathing tickled his ears, hoarse and hollow and whistling.

Due covered his face in his fetlocks, blinding himself to their stares. “Goddesses preserve me, what did that stuff do to me? What?” He grit his teeth as hooves scraped against stone, something fighting to get closer. “It’s all in your head. All in your head. J-just the stupid alcohol making you see things. Get over it.” He peeked out. The heads were all facing him, now. “Get over it!”

The shadows began to consume the heads, like a nebulous beast ravenous for their hard flesh of rock. Blue, glistening eyes went wide with agony, horror, desperate and imploring. One by one, they winked out, but as their numbers grew smaller their presence loomed all the more. Due Date crawled into the sarcophagus, trembling and unable to take his eyes away from the growing darkness and those haunted eyes. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

Something touched his withers. He swatted it away on instinct, turning to face…

Blue eyes. Eyes like a storm of stars. Eyes that spoke of a millennium of experience, of hunger, of a vicious, insatiable need.

Due Date shrieked. He tried to escape, but the shades and the faces pressed him back like a physical wall. The corpse wrapped its cold, stiff legs around his withers and pulled him close. Due twisted and kicked and cried.

Broad Axe opened his mouth wide, unleashing a viscous wave of black.

Discomfort.

Due tried to move his legs. They were stiff and sore. Had he been running? If so, he’d overexerted himself. His legs could barely move. And he was freezing. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but his body felt like lead. He strained his ears. There was a low thrumming sound. Rain. Yes, definitely rain. On a roof, perhaps.

“Awake at last.”

How strange. That voice was similar, but also different. Where had he heard it before? Far more effort was required to open his eyes than seemed right. Other things were odd, too. Odd about his body. Odd, but he couldn’t put his hoof on…

The world was dim, as if he were wearing shades in the dark. The ceiling above was barely visible. A face, too blurry to make out, stared at him from over a ledge. Was he in a bed of some kind? Or a hole? He couldn’t tell how soft or hard the ground beneath him was. Due tried to speak, but all he managed was a thin rasping. His voice… He couldn’t control his voice!

The figure with the familiar voice shushed him, reaching a hoof down to stroke his mane. Due didn’t feel it beyond a strange awareness that something was pressing gently against his scalp. “It’s okay, Duey. It’s over. You did well, just as I knew you would. Got the potion just right and everything.”

Due strained to make words, any words, escape his throat. He managed only another hoarse wheeze. What was wrong with him? The head lowered until their muzzles were almost touching. The face became clear through the murky fog of his eyes.

It was his own.

The false Due Date smiled warmly. “This is always the hardest part. The dying is… unpleasant, but it’s here, at the conclusion, that I feel myself go weak at the knees.”

Due had to communicate somehow. He resorted to mouthing his question. What is happening?

The fake smiled and pressed a hoof to Due’s chest. He felt only a light pressure. “I’m sorry, boy. It always feels better when I make the trade with family. I don’t have to, of course, but you had all the right traits, biologically speaking. How could I say no when you just fell into my lap?” Pulling back so his face was an indistinct blur yet again, he asked, “Did you keep your promise? Live life to the fullest and all that?”

A trade? What was he talking about? Due wanted to thrash about, to scream at this imposter, to do anything. All he managed was a feeble growl and to shift his foreleg a little to the left. His howl was little more than a faint hiss.

“I hope you did. You deserved all the happiness you could muster in your short, short life. But if not… Well, that’s what you get for ignoring the words of a wise old stud. You’d think being a dozen or so centuries old would make ponies pay more attention to you, but it is not so.” The imposter disappeared over the shadowed ledge. “You know, I think I’ll live this life as a mortician. Good traveling job, makes it easy to meet potential candidates. Plus I’m a little rusty on my anatomy.”

There came a grinding noise. Though it was subdued, Due gathered it was quite loud to normal ears. He tried to view his own body. Just lifting his head was like carrying bricks. He at last got a look, taking in his… yellow coat? But… but he was blue. Blue, not yellow. He’d inherited his colors from his father. And why did he look so big?

Something landed on the hole above him, partially closing it. Due’s eyes went wide in horrible awareness, and the thrashing within his frigid, stiff corpse of a body resumed.

“I won’t apologize,” the fake said, hidden somewhere beyond sight. “Not for what I’m doing to you, or what I did to your family. I do apologize for Miss Handkerchief, though. She was a fine young mare, full of life and vigor. But I learned long ago that the best way to keep hidden is to do away with those who care about the next host. They tend to ask questions.”

The lid of the sarcophagus began to grind closed. Due’s faint hisses were the closest he could come to screams. If only he could move, if only he could speak, if only he could do anything! He tried to wrap his head around the impossibility of what was happening, that his own grandsire could do this.

“Now, don’t you worry, Due,” the fake said merrily as the grinding lid blocked more and more of the torches’ dim light. “The magic that kept my soul connected with Broad Axe’s body is only temporary. Usually goes away after four or five days.” A beat. “Well, sometimes it goes longer. A week or two. A month. It’s an imprecise science, I’m afraid. But hey, you won’t be stuck in here forever. Good news, right?”

All those days visiting his grandsire, all the stories. The wise words of advice, the comforting shoulder to cry on. When had it started, when? Those blue eyes like a sea of stars. The feeling of being hunted, of being stalked. All along…

The lid was almost entirely on the sarcophagus. The world was dark as pitch. “Say, that pretty lawyer mare is waiting for me in the carriage, right? What good fortune! I can have a little fun with her before Due Date disappears. She probably won’t cooperate, but I’ve been living as a goody-four-shoes for way too long. What’s the point of living forever if you can’t live a little? Get it? Live a little?” A long sigh. “Ponies had more fun in the tribal days. More pillaging and raping.”

Due bucked against his prison. He just had to reach, to block the lid, to resist! He heaved, his massive body trembling with effort.

The fake’s head poked through the small triangle of an opening, blocking the light and appearing as little more than a black blot. “Thank you, Duey. You really were the best grandfoal a stallion could have. It was nice, playing that role again. I take it on so rarely. I wish I could make this easier for you. But I can’t, because you’re already dead, so… Yeah. Bye. Have a good afterlife. Say hello to all the other hosts when you see them. They’ve probably got some social club up there in Elysium. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with a hot lawyer. Oh, it’s good to be young again. This evening has gone perfectly.”

Due Date screamed within his dead shell. He screamed and cried and cursed and wailed.

The sarcophagus lid closed, blanketing him in perfect black.

Author's Note

This was written for RockstarRaccoon’s Nightmare Night in April: Horror Write-Off contest. I had to rush it because I didn’t get the idea until the contest was more than halfway over, so it’s by no means my best work. But that’s okay, because this story is the first short I’ve written in four months and the first expansion of this compilation since it’s initial publication in October 2014. I say that makes it worth it.

This idea came to me while I was working with my dad to clean up and repair a termite-ruined shed in his back yard. Somehow in the midst of that nasty, dusty, rat crap-infested work, I got the Ray Stevens song Sittin' Up with the Dead (a staple of my childhood) stuck in my head, at which point this idea was conceived. My mind is an odd thing, sometimes.