The air was freezing by the time that Trixie left the bar, but she didn’t care.

After all, the waters of the Hoofren river were probably much, much colder.

The former showmare walked down the darkness enshrouded streets slowly, pacing her hooves in time with her heart beat. She glanced up, past the looming shadows of the tall apartments and stores, to the night sky, where a full moon hung fat in the dark, surrounded by stars that twinkled as if laughing.

Laughing at her, probably.

Trixie looked back down and sighed, then steeled herself and continued onwards.

I’m not going to be distracted. she thought, If I can do anything right then it’s gonna be this. I can’t do this anymore.

And so she marched onwards, she found herself breaking out into a cold sweat as the memories of her last three years began to creep through the dam that she had thrown up to keep herself sane.

Word of the incident with the Alicorn Amulet had spread fast, Trixie had only been free of its influence for two days before the first signs of trouble began.

The very first instance, and one of most painful, was when she had dragged herself into a motel, paying with the last of her bits and trying to keep from crying in front of the obviously concerned manager.

Once the door to her room had shut, all of the guilt and self-loathing that had been squirming in her stomach decided to lash out in truth, and she spend a good five hours in the bathroom, vomiting and crying in tandem. After that she managed to crawl into her bed and pull the covers up around her shaking body.

She had spend the rest of the night and most of the following day like that, whimpering softly as a fever raged in her blood. She could feel the dark magic clinging desperately to her body, fighting to keep from fading away, like a parasite trying to keep itself alive.

It had been the longest 26 hours of her life, and she had been too weary to even move. By the time that she had fallen into a thankfully dreamless sleep, her eyes were swollen and aching from tears, her stomach was in slimy knots in her belly and her bones felt leaden.

She had only managed to get a few hours sleep before the manager barged in and demanded that she leave.

She had asked him what she had done wrong in a raw, weak voice, and he had said, “I heard about what you did in Ponyville, it's in today’s paper. I won’t have a monster like yourself in my establishment a moment longer, now git!”

Monster.

Trixie had attempted, out of sheer depressed self-loathing, to count the number of times that somepony had shouted that word at her on a daily basis, and had made it up to 2,009 before she broke down and stopped.

Her life had plummeted like a lead brick. Her money was gone, and begging earned her more sneers of derision and mocking words than it did money, but she managed to scrape by, if just barely.

But then the first winter came and she was forced to seek out a homeless shelter after a blizzard overturned and shattered her cart. The ponies who ran the shelter were some of the only individuals who showed her any sympathy, and they treated her well.

Though that didn’t stop other ponies from spitting at her when she begged, and it certainly didn’t protect her when a group of drunken “Do-Gooders” decided to assault her for, as they put it, “Trying to scam eveypony into giving her money.”

She still had the bruises and aches from their hooves, and nightmares of that dark night and the terror that she felt as they closed in on her, reaching for her, stinking of booze and smiling with the kind of stupid maliciousness found in manticores.

That night had finally succeeded in breaking her, and she had decided to end it all.

It was a scary thought, committing suicide, she wondered constantly how she would do it, if it would be successful or if it would take multiple attempts, and, most terrifying, how painful it would be. These thoughts frightened her and she often found herself wondering if she should back down, but she always found her mind returning to the noose, the knife and the pills.

But she had heard horror stories of ponies who had attempted such things and had failed, often crippling themselves in the process. She didn’t want any more pain, so she looked into other ways to do it.

It took a while, but she had finally settled on jumping from the bridge that spanned the Hoofren river. It would be a cold few seconds, but the cold’s sting had lost its effect on her.

Now she was heading for the bridge, leaving the warmth and comfort of the shelter behind, and with it, her last chance at life.

She approached the bridge and slowed down, examining the height of the stone railings and the drop that lay beyond. The railings came up to her barrel and wouldn’t prove to be much of a problem to get over.

She got closer and peered between the small, decorative pillars at the river below. The water rushed by down below, the moon’s light reflected off of the frothing eddies and ripples, making the river look like liquid glass. Trixie stared down and tried to see her reflection, but the rapids distorted everything except the night sky.

No reflection, how appropriate for someone who’s less than nothing.

Trixie got up on the railing and closed her eyes, listening to the hiss and murmur of the water below, imagining that those sounds were masking and distorting voices, voices that were calling to her and her alone.

She felt oddly comforted by that prospect.

She moved a step closer and felt the cool air rush up to meet her.

Please let this be painless. she prayed as she put a hoof over the edge.

Suddenly, as if manipulated by some invisible presence, the sounds of the water grew muted as a new sound appeared in the air and increased in volume. Trixie faltered and then, with less hesitation than she herself would have expected, retracted her hoof; She listened.

The sound was louder now, and Trixie was able to make it out clearly: it was a mixture of rattling metal, moaning timbers and a grinding, metallic screech that sounded like a propeller on the fritz.

Then the acrid stink of oil hit met her snout and she opened her eyes, gasping at the sight that greeted her.

It was an airship, its propellers were kicking out sparks and belching forth black smoke as it plummeted downwards at a sharp angle headed straight for the beach that bordered the river and, by extension, her.

As she watched, frozen in horror, the craft slammed into the beach in a storm of sand, splintered wood and shredded iron, the titanic balloon that kept it afloat ruptured with a massive pop! as it connected with the ship itself.

Trixie barely had time to register the disaster before the shock wave struck.

It threw her off the railing and she rolled across the hard cobblestones, coming to a painful stop against the railings on the opposite side.

The sound of the crash ripped through the still night like dragon’s breath through a cloud. Trixie pinned her ears flat to her skull in time to avoid the worst of the blast, but her ears popped anyway.

She waited until the debris had stopped falling before she shakily got to her hooves and moved to the bridge to see the extent of the damage.

The airship had been torn apart by the force of the impact, the bottom had been reduced to little more than scrap and driftwood, the balloon was deflated and draped over both sides like a saddle, and its hull lay open like a wound.

Trixie looked around, trying to see if anypony was coming.

Surely, they must have heard the crash. she thought, scanning the darkened roads and sidewalks. She saw a few lights come on in the windows, but the unicorns that lived in this art of the neighborhood often placed soundproofing spells around their homes to blot out the sounds of drunken partying or….other things.

Trixie growled and turned back to the beach.

Should I go and see if the people in the ship are okay? she wondered, shooting a glance at the set of steep steps that led down to the beach.

That thought was immediately followed by another: Maybe, if I save whoever’s in that ship, the other ponies will see that I’m not the monster that I used to be. Maybe they’ll smile at me instead of yell, maybe they’ll give me more money on the streets. Maybe….maybe I can be forgiven.

She had considered the idea of redeeming herself, but she hadn’t had many opportunities. The part in Canterlot where she lived was rife with crime and sticking your snout where it didn’t belong could lead to a loss of life or limb, and Trixie wasn’t sure that she was ready to let herself be tortured to death by some hitstallion or….

She shuddered at the other possibilities that flowed through her mind. But, on the other hoof, she now had a chance to do good, and she wasn’t going to pass it up, not even if the possibility of her being forgiven was far and faint.

It was like a light had suddenly pierced the darkness and Trixie found herself galloping down to the beach at a speed that she didn’t know that she was capable of.

She reached the beach, taking the stairs three at a time, and leaping onto the sand, just as a figure staggered out from the gaping hole that had once been the hull to fall on the beach with a pained squawk.

Trixie gasped and put on an extra burst of speed that carried her over to the fallen figure. In the dim light of the moon, she was able to see that the figure was a female griffon with blue plumage that was currently spattered with bright blood.

The griffoness was laying face down and Trixie hesitantly turned her over her over. She gasped when she saw the wounds that marred the groffoness’ wrists, throat and hind legs. Deep, ragged wounds that leaked blood like a sieve, and there were several small, white objects lodged in the torn edges.

Trixie bent over and placed an ear to her chest, feeling a rush of relief when she heard the slow thudding of her heart.

Then the griffoness let out a low, pained moan. Trixie started, then said, in a vice that she hoped could pass for soothing, “It’s going to be alright, Trixie’s sure that the medics will be here soon. There’s no way that they didn’t hear that.”

“R...r...r…” stammered the griffoness, her eyes still shut, though now they were clenched tight in agony.

“What?” asked Trixie leaning closer, hoping against hope that she was not hearing her last words.

The griffoness heaved a rasping wheeze, then opened eyes that shone with pure, unfettered fear and said, “Run.”

Trixie felt a cold chill roll down her spine, but she didn’t move. She’s probably got a concussion. she thought looking at the wreckage, But if she doesn’t then I’ll have to move her.

“Run….now…” repeated the griffoness.

“No.” said Trixie, “I’m going to stay with you and do what I can for you. I think I can remember some healing spells I learned in-”

She was interrupted by the griffoness, who, against all odds, managed to lever herself into a sitting position to grab the showmare by the scruff.

“You have….to run….now!” she rasped, spraying a fine mist of red on her face, “They’re….coming…”

“Wh-who’s coming?” asked Trixie, unable to pull herself away from those terrified eyes.

Then she heard something, a slow, screeching sound, like metal on metal. She turned and found herself staring at the hole in the hull, which yawned open like a mouth with wood shards and metal shavings for teeth; A gust of cold air whistled through its bowels and exited the hole to stir the sand into small whirlwinds.

I should call out, see if anyone’s still in there. thought Trixie, opening her mouth and filling her lungs with air.

But the words just wouldn’t come, the air left her mouth as a harsh gasp and she realized that the griffoness’s terror had infected her, stopping her throat with fear.

She lifted a hoof to start forwards, then dropped it back down again.

I’m not going near that thing. she decided, I know it’s stupid, but something’s wrong with that ship. Why hasn’t anyone called out? Why is it so damned silent? I’ll just keep this poor griffon company until the real authorities get here.

Another gust of wind whistled through the ship and Trixie saw some of the sand that had covered the side of the ship that was nearest to her blow away, revealing a name, stenciled in big, blocky letters.

DEMETER.

Trixie shuddered again and pried her gaze away from the name to look at the wounded griffoness, who was staring at the sky, barely blinking, but still breathing.

She’s gone into shock. thought Trixie, There’s no other explanation for that look except...no, no! She’s not going to die on me, I won’t let that happen.

She focused her horn and lit it, mentally prepared a healing spell, one of the few spells that she knew that didn’t pertain to her stage persona, and cast it with more grace than she usually displayed.

The spell settled over the griffoness in a sparkling blue cloud that dissipated a moment after it made contact with her skin. The griffoness let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes as the magic numbed the pain and knitted some of the lesser wounds closed. It wasn’t a total solution, but it still had helped.

Trixie watched as the last wound closed and noticed that one of the objects that had been lodged within had been expelled. Allowing herself a moment of curiosity, she lit her horn again and levitated the thing off the griffon’s chest so that she could look at it.

The object was long, bone white and tapered to a wickedly sharp point, upon closer inspection Trixie saw that it’s tip had a small hole in it, and that the top was hollow.

Just like…..no, that’s crazy. There’s no way.

“See how it’s hollow?” he had asked, tilting it so that a young Trixie could look into it.

“Yeah.” she had said, interest evident in her voice, “Why is it like that? Do they use it to store water or something like that?”

He had shaken his head and said, “No, the answer is a bit….darker than that. Y’see, the fang is hollow so that, when the manticore bites, it can inject its prey with venom. That means that, even if the prey gets away, it won’t get very far and the manticore will have its meal.”

Trixie had screwed her face up in disgust at that remark. “Ew, that’s nasty,”

Her father had laughed and said, in kind tone that later became alien to him, “That’s just nature, sweetie. All creatures have ways to protect themselves and to feed themselves, that’s just how life works.”

He had given the fang to Trixie and, after inspecting it more closely, had said, “I guess that makes sense, but it’s still gross.”

Her father had laughed at that and they had left the museum to go get lunch; It had been one of her happiest memories.

Trixie dropped the fang, as she had realized that’s what it was, and turned to look at the bridge.

The darkness was slowly giving way as the familiar sirens of an ambulance pierced the silence. Trixie smiled and placed a hoof gently on the griffoness’s talon.

“It’s going to be alright.” she said, “You’ll be fine.”

Then she turned and looked back at the hull, wondering if she should enter this time and try to help. Feeling a pang of the old self-loathing as she wondered why she hadn’t acted sooner, and feeling a stab of fear at the possibility that she may have let someone die whilst she was too frightened to help.

She made up her mind then, and got to her hooves to enter the dark hull.

I have to do this, I have to see. Even if what I see will give me nightmares for the rest of my life. I can’t just sit by and let innocents die because I’m too much of a coward.

Three hooves.

Two hooves.

A hoof.

She stood at the hole, then entered it.

The inside was dark, the only sounds that she could hear were the sparking of snapped wires somewhere in the bowels of the craft and the drip-drip of liquid close by.

A foul smell rose up to greet her, a nauseating, warm stench, like rotting meat. She held a hoof to her snout and blinked her watering eyes, but the stench was persistent, and it choked her like a tangible thing.

What in Celestia’s name IS that stink?! She thought as she halted.

She lit her horn to see if she could find anything to stuff in her nose, hoping that the ambulance had arrived and that the griffoness was being attended to.

She turned her head and stopped short.

There were two red lights shining out at her from inside of the vague outline of a doorway.

Her breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. The lights remained still.

Trixie stopped and stared at them, then, with a faint laugh, she said, “Oh, Trixie’s a fool. You’re only lights!”

She let out another laugh that ended just as soon as it had begun, leaving the silence to fill the space where it had been.

Then she heard a sound.

It was raspy, gurgling and wet, like whoever was making the sound was doing so with a throat filled with bile or mud. And it was coming from within the doorway.

Trixie’s heart began to beat wildly as the sound bounced echoed off the fallen and broken equipment that lay around her. She took one step back, then another as the sound rose and fell, almost like….

Like a laugh. she thought, her blood going cold as the idea entered her head, Something is laughing at me.

Then the lights disappeared and reappeared closer to her, close enough to see the faint wrinkled lids around them and the tiny, black dots of its pupils.

The gurgling laughter rose in pitch and Trixie saw the light of her horn glinting on rows of saliva-coated fangs.

She screamed, then turned and fled, leaping over felled timbers and smashed boxes without looking back, behind her she could hear the wet breaths of the thing accompanied by the sounds of soft hoof-falls as it pursued her.

Trixie leaped from the hole in the hull and charged down along the beach at a full gallop. Not seeing the paramedics until they had wrapped their hooves around her. She fought, bit and screamed, her mind in a haze of terror.

They begged her stop, to calm herself down, but she couldn’t not with those red eyes still smoldering in her retinas.

Finally, the terror and exhaustion of her ordeal and the events that preceded it overtook her, and she passed out, trembling with fear, in the arms of a surprised and worried pegasus, who loaded Trixie into the ambulance next to the griffoness and drove off to the nearest hospital.

The vampire watched from the shadows, narrowing its beady eyes and hissing through its clenched fangs.

It had wanted the unicorn, wanted to feel her screams rolling down its throat as it drained every last drop of her precious blood and gorged itself until it was swollen with life-juices.

But it was weak, it needed easier prey, ones who wouldn’t run away. Foals perhaps, or the very ill. It looked over its shoulder and saw the gleam if its brethren's eyes coming out from the shadows.

It noted the unicorn who followed them, a look of reverent awe on his face. It felt a surge of its old pride at that look, it had been so long since a mortal had looked at it like that, like he was looking at a god.

The vampire smiled and turned its head back towards the outside world and the technological advancements therein.

It had already seen the strange vehicle that had taken its prey from it, and it had glimpsed the airship in brief during its wakeful hours. But they seemed paltry to the rest of the new age’s splendor.

It would be difficult to overrun this place, but not impossible.

Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten as the hated sun arose. The vampire hissed and turned, communicating the urgency of the situation through its ancient dialect.

The others nodded and turned to the Unicorn, who seemed to also understand, for he nodded and gestured out the hull, saying, “I’ve memorized the layout of Canterlot, masters. There is a place we can hide no too far from here. And you needn’t worry about others seeing you, ponies around here tend to turn a blind eye to things that don’t concern them.”

The vampires nodded and allowed the unicorn to lead the way.

Somewhere, nearby maybe, a foal’s plaintive cry came to their ears on the cold, invigorating wind and they all smiled hungrily, anticipating the feast to come.

Author's Note

If you want to know more about Trixie's dad....and I'm not sure how big a percentage of you that is, read my story Seeing Monsters.

Also, the theme for this story in general is: