Haunted

by Swift As Lightning

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark
Length: 1297

A tale of revenge.

A tale of revenge.

Some slight gore but nothing really… descriptive I suppose.

Art made by yours truly in paint :D

P.S. Tags will be added as the story continues.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-04-30 21:14:02 UTC

Haunted

A figure walks alone in the distance, the soft padding of his black hooves over the wasteland the only noise besides the wind. The hot biting wind carrying only empty hopes and sand, yet still this figure travels on, searching. Zooming in we see his scared body struggling to continue on.

The figure stumbles causing his wings to scrape the ground for a brief second. He sees a town it was just a spec at this distance, squinting his green eyes he continues with renewed vigor. Survival now, then the goal can be reached. He continues, one step closer to the town but no closer to his goal.

Memories of the hive fill his mind as he continues forward, the smell of sulfur in the mornings and fresh blood in the evenings the feel of hard packed dirt under his hooves, all of it returning to him in an instant.

Must continue, must press on, persevere, never give in. He continues the town growing larger with every step. The queen had failed he has nothing but the goal now, he must carry on.

His only hope, the goal. He coughs as sand flies down his throat. His eyes stinging he continues each step heavier than the last.

He though of home once more. No, must keep going. Almost there, just have to put one hoof in front of the other. The only way. More memories, his home, his brood. All of it means nothing to him now.

He steps forward.

The strong memories cloud his vision

Another step

The queen addressing the horde, his brothers.

Two more steps

The dictation.

He collapses. Can't move, stuck, is this the end? No, it can't be the end I must reach the goal. Standing once more, continuing, forward, the only direction is forward. He has lost too much to give up now. The queens voice fills his head.

"If this does not succeed..."

He collapses again. This is it, darkness, cold, lonely. The goal will never be reached. Sadness. A single tear rolls down his face. I failed, never to return. Goal lost.

"we die!"

A single tear falls off the figures face only to be dried up by the greedy heat of the desert and he breathes his last word.

"Revenge."

“Hey what d' ya make of this sir?” asks a tall colt standing over a body lying in the sand.

“Hmm looks like one of them changelings that gone and run away from home after their queen was defeated.” stated a gray maned pony with a large mustache.

“Darn shame,” said the colt.

“Bah 'e got what 'e deserved, wretched the lot of 'em. But nopony deserves a grave 'n a place like this, load 'im up and let's find a proper like place for 'is rest.” commanded the older pony.

“You're a kind soul, a right model of kindness,” complimented the colt.

“Keep 'er flattery to 'er own 'ead and do as I tells ya,” said the mustached pony.

“Yes sir,” said the colt. He picked up the body and placed it in the back of the wagon, “hey boss what'd ya suppose the chances are this thing is still alive?”

“Are ya blind boy? Never before did I see a more dead thing 'n me life,” berated the older pony.

“Well I think I jus' saw his wing a twitchin' is all,”

“Twitchin' wing?” he asked incredulous. “O' course 'e got a twitchin' wing 't be the windiest day o' the year!” he shouted, “now quite 'er blabber and come 'elp with this 'ere wagon ya slack jawed ninny!”

“Yes sir.” said the colt taking one last glance at the dead changeling. They hitched themselves up and trotted toward the town. However, not half a mile from the town a wheel fell off the wagon.

“Blast all the luck!” exclaimed the pony with a mustache, “you stay here with the wagon boy I'll go get a replacement from the town. And don' go messin' 'round with that there body!”

“Yes sir,” he responded. Once the older pony was out of sight the colt walked around to the back of the wagon compelled by a morbid desire to see the dead changeling again. He opened the flap that kept all the contents of the wagon from falling out or collecting sand, but there was no body. Gasping the colt looked around hoping that the changeling had not fallen out. He made an about face and at first he thought he was looking in a mirror. He saw himself with a devious grin standing across from him. He wanted to run but fear kept him rooted. The changeling took a step toward him. He stepped back. The changeling took two steps forward. He tried to step back but his rear ran into the wagon. The changeling's smile widened revealing long sharp fangs. It pounced onto the colt, there was no struggle, there was no scream, the colt dropped onto the sand half his throat in the changeling's mouth. The changeling chewed the warm flesh slowly enjoying his first meal in days. Once he swallowed he bent down and lapped up the blood pouring out the colts neck satisfying his thirst. The changeling quickly buried the colt in a shallow grave and cleaned the blood off his mouth. Soon enough the older pony came back dragging a replacement wheel behind him.

“Oi! Come 'ere an' elp' me with this blasted thing!” shouted the pony his mustache wobbling in the wind.

“Yes sir,” said the colt smiling.

    “Hey Twi have you seen that book I was reading earlier?” asked Spike, as he searched the bookshelves.

    “I think you left it upstairs, honestly Spike you need to keep track of the books you use. This is a library after all,” scolded Twilight Sparkle.

    “Sorry I forg- hold on,” Spike belched forth a newspaper.

    “Oh good, the news has arrived,” said Twilight picking up the paper with magic.

    “Oh, oh! Twi can I have the comics?” asked Spike.

    “Not till you find that book,” said Twilight, glaring at the purple dragon.

    “Uh, right I’ll go get that,” said Spike running upstairs. He came back down a few moments later carrying a book titled “Caring for Your Baby Phoenix” he had been reading it since Tiny hatched and they had an incident with some spontaneous combustion.

    “SPIKE!” screamed Twilight making him drop the book and fall down the rest of the stairs.

    “What!?” asked Spike frantically running to where Twilight was, “Twi- no Tiny! No! Don’t do that!” he shouted seeing Tiny trying to eat the couch... again. Twilight pulled him off with magic engendering a startled squawk from the baby phoenix.

    “I told you if you want to keep him you need to teach him the difference between food and sofa!” exclaimed Twilight.

    “I’m sorry, but I think I have some ideas to stop him from doing that,” apologized spike.

    “Please do it quickly, I don’t want to have to replace another couch,” said Twilight putting Tiny into Spikes arms. Tiny yawned so Spike took him upstairs and put him to bed. Twilight opened the newspaper and began reading setting the comics aside for Spike, she immediately turned to the section for news concerning magic. Her jaw dropped open and she immediately ran out the door to go find her friends.

    “Alright Twi, Tiny is bed and I found th- Twi?” Spike looked around the empty room he spotted the comics picking them up he shrugged and began walking back up stairs but he slipped on the news paper on the floor, letting out an ‘oof’ he picked up the paper and folded it without giving it a second glance and went back upstairs to read his comics.