Abduction - A Short Story
Abduction - A Short Story
The house was brown with a typical roof and a chimney. There was no attic in the house but we had a garage hidden in the backyard. Posters of literary legends such as (example-vies) Flare Scorcher and Enigma Entrance, along with famous quotes from respective celebrity covered the walls of the entrance.
There were more posters but they were in the rooms of the ponies and they were more depictions of modern wielders of fame. Every day at 6 pm the oven heated and out of it spawned a dinner well-cooked by the official Cook of The Neighbourhood. Everything was like usual.
In front of a computer, writing a small biography, was a pony that had been blessed with a day of lone-time due to the stress he had gone through.
“My name is Brantson and I lived alone until I met Hilaya. Now I no longer reside underneath the middleclass but rather as a glad, lovable father of three in a suburb by the name of Serenity.
The neighbourhood is an average place. Unlike where I formerly lived there is little poverty and I do (not often though) venture back to my roots and help in a soup kitchen.” He pondered how he would continue for a bit and then he wrote:“I think that the most beautiful of things in life is the ability to speak.”
He erased the line because he thought it was too philosophical.
“I love baking and my kids are adorable.” After a moment of critical analysis he erased that line as well.
“I just really want a friend.” He turned off the computer (without saving the document) and then he got a phone-call.
“Hey, who is it?” Once it was shown that it was Hilaya he sighed with apathy.
“I'm only calling to make sure you deliver the cabinet before 1 tomorrow.”
“I will.” He replied.
“I got something – important before that so please be early.”
“Absolutely.” He said almost teary-eyed.”
“Well; farewell.”
“Farewell.” The phone-call stopped.
Brantson took out the roasted squid from the oven and poured on it the exact amount of spices to make it taste divine.
Suddenly there was a bus that passed by the house and that made Brantson a little bit more cheerful.
“I do need a joyous face from someone else.” He passed by a wall with a printed image where it said: “It only requires 14 muscles to smile – so it sure is worth it.”
He opened the door and there came a brown, boy pony looking a little bit odd and two female ponies, one pink and one turquoise, step in looking at each other with spite.
“What is with those bitter faces?” None of them replied, it was the boy instead that explained.
“They've been fighting all day.”
The girls turned their eyes away from the respective “opponent” and then they walked up to their rooms and both slammed the door (although it wasn't simoltaneously). “Let them think it out. Tomorrow they'll respect each other again.” The boy, by the name of Silven and Branston sat themselves down and together they feasted on the roasted squid.
“So – how has your school-day been?”
“Well – Lucy and I went on a date.”
“Oh really now?” Branston saw how Silven blushed.
“We kissed.” Branston laughed a little bit inside, Silven was only eight years old.
“And we met a pony who wanted to give us a ride.”
Branston suddenly looked at Silven a bit oddly.
“I did not get it – he looked mostly at Lucy.”
“What car did he drive in?” It took a little bit for Silven to remember but he said (with a small pause between every word).
“A red one I think.”
“How did he look like?” A bigger pause came.
“Don't know.” Silence “Have I done something bad?”
“No!” Branston burst out – then he calmed down and said.
“No – you haven't.” A little break occurred.
“I have to call someone.” He took the phone of the house and then suddenly Silven said.
“Lucy followed.” Branston eyes burst open.
“She didn't want to walk home. She had been tired.” A phone call suddenly came forth and that was when Branston answered quickly.
“Hey, we are worried about Lucy. Do you know where she is?”
Branston just quickly said: “Don't panic now but call the police.”
It had passed three days and every time a red car was noticed by Branston he immediately tried to find the hallucination of Lucy in the back or front seat. Of course she never found her and as much as the days passed it was hard for Branston to not feel the sadness of knowing that a child had gone missing.
No signs of where she could have gone was found and for three the searches after the police went on but nothing happened. Nothing happened at all. The police found nothing. Silven did not want to witness as he was intimidated by the police but when he did he became frightened by every question no matter how kind the police officer put it. It was truly painful for the parents who after a total of three weeks of searching believed somewhere inside they would never see her again.
Branston eventually tried to pretend like the incident had never happened but failed. The more he denied the kidnapping the more it haunted him. Silven did not speak to a lot of people and ultimately he barely spoke at all. When finally two months had passed everyone assumed she was dead and then moved one.
The kids would go to Hilaya and Branston feared the worst for Silven and explained thoroughly to Hilaya that she needed to provide extracare to him. Hilaya understood and Branston started taking promenades in the woods. He always had his telephone with him and the promenades were that of contemplation. Suddenly he came to an idea, a mysterious idea, but an idea nonetheless. He decided to take a longer route.
There suddenly was a burst of light which baffled him to oblivion. It was the most unnatural thing he had seen. It was the only unnatural thing he had seen. He walked with fright but he suddenly saw it, the old mansion he had seen before, but this time it was glowing.
Branston did pick up his phone to call the police but no phone call could be made and suddenly he saw the silhouette of a small ponygirl. There was no time for contemplation. Branston throw off his jacket so that traces of him could be left should he not return. Branston then proceeded to enter the occupied residence.
He walked in, looking after silhouettes with axes. He wished he could talk to him peacefully, tell him how it was and then leave with Lucy. But so wouldn't be the case. He noticed a staircase that led upward. He then noticed a purple light, that purple light seemed odd and offputting but he still neared it. He opened the door and there he saw her, calmly asleep.
He got an outmost joyous and he slowly approached her. “Wake up.” He said to her. She opened her eyes, despaired a bit and then fell silent, sleeping again. “Come one. I'll bring you home.”
“She is already home.” A voice, sounding psychologically malformed, said. Branston turned around to find something he had never seen. Before Branston could even say it, he was pushed to the side and pinned against a wall by magic. He landed paralysed and in pain. “Leave my daughter alone. She's finally home.”
The window cracked open and Branston was slowly dragged by ethereal hands towards the edge. “Please spare me.” No response was given but suddenly Lucy screamed stop so loud that it actually was heard. The psychopathic one looked at his “daughter” trying to save Branston and he immediately stopped in his tracks. “My sweet child. My sweet, sweet child. He is evil. He is like so many others trying to take you away from me.” Lucy looked at them both and thought for a bit, then she cried.
“You're evil! I hate you!” She said running. And then the psycopath followed screaming Branston looked at the entrance and tried to chase after them but he was crippled by the damage that he had received. He ran occasionally but those were small steps that mattered little since he only consumed more energy than needed.
They had gone to the basement. The murky, dark basement. He recalled the details of this mansion. Here a family of riches once lived, they abandoned the place because the next noble in-line suffered from sheer paranoia. A paranoia that was amplified by the loneliness and the dark, heavy nights.
He heard voices echo through the walls. “You must understand that he is one of them, one of them who wants to take you away from me.” Little reply was heard back except the cries. Then Branston saw a light and that light swiftly revealed two shades and a sudden, yelling voice: “Why are you here?!” The pony yelled. “Why do you want to take her away from me?!”
“She's not yours. She lives in my town, Duxen.” Several fragments of the wall burst and hit Branston on the sides. He slowly approached them both, hiding in the dark.
“Liar!” The pony screamed.
“She loves school, she loves apples, she is a good friend of my son Silven and a lovely little girl who deserves to be happy like everyone else.”
More fragments from the wall broke off and hit him to the side.
Branston now crawled like a valorous vermin towards them both.
“And she just wants to live a normal, happy life. We all deserve to live happily, why can't you let her?” This time the countenance of the pony went furious and desperate, at the same time, and a piece of glass impaled Branston's shoulder. Branston fell down, lying on the ground.
“Please. Take her home.” Branston said and before the pony could execute him he looked at Lucy who, in her face, showed a huge pleading, a pleading that the pony could not resist. The pony at first looked like he wanted to apologise, then like he wanted to retain his position, but instead he muttered a mere sentence of:
“We need to take him to a hospital.” Branston breathed deeply, trying to live.
“We need to take him to a hospital!” He screamed but the wounds became more and more red.
*
It was an oddity that in the woods they had gotten a phone call that Lucy was in the woods. The specific location had been given and when the police found her they at first expected her to sheer happily for rescue but no smiles were given. She walked, silently, as if tragedy had pursued her and held her happiness on a leash.
The parents became filled to the very last essence of their being with joy but one question remained. Where was Branston?
*
The earth was smooth and dark. The rain had passed on and passed on. “I remember when my parents told me how we were from a lost age.” The pony mumbled to himself.
“I remember that, 'We belong with Twilight Sparkle and their kind. We should not be in this world.' The world has moved on.'” The diggings continued.
“They were wrong, all in my life had been wrong!” He suddenly threw the spade to the side and then the sounds of slow sledding across the ground was heard. “Only one was right.” The body was thrown to the side and the pony continued on his way through the darkness.