The Door

It was a dark and misty night upon the city of Detroit. Many men were wandering about, minding their business, and supporting the war effort in both Europe, and Japan. Life was hard for these city dwellers. Many of their husbands, and kids were dragged away to war, and even worse than that, many of them died. The ones that didn’t die, would come back horribly disfigured. This is not a story about the turbulence of war, no. This is a story about a single man. A wealthy man who didn’t have a care in the world. During the times of the Great Depression, he was still afloat, living in his mansion. He was the head of an arms company, and war was always good business for him.

He did have a darker side though. As a child he was abused, both physically and sexually by his mother and two sisters. He typically kept to himself at school, and got exceptional grades. He was ambitious. This ambition led to the founding of this arms company, and also the want to take revenge on the people that wronged him. His target, women. After killing four women, and a girl no older than twelve, he decided it was about time to end his mother.

Our young character is named Gregory, and at seven in the evening you would see him driving along the streets, to pick up his mother for dinner. While his mother was less than fond of him, she could never turn down a free meal, especially while she was living as a poor wretch, and he, as a wealthy businessman. Within a half hour’s time, he picked her up, and in another half hour’s time they were back at his estate.

“I apologize for the lateness mother, traffic is rather abysmal this time of night.” He kept a straight face as he led her into his home. The entryway was gorgeous, with famous paintings lining the shelf, and even a recreation of the Statue of David was in the center of his living room.

“You could have left earlier you know?” She said in a condescending tone as she so often did.

“I am sorry. Perhaps some wine will allow you to relax?”

“It sure as hell will!” She snapped as she took off her beaten shoes and coat.

“Please, sit on the couch, I’ll retrieve a bottle for you.” He said begrudgingly as he walked to the wine cellar to procure the special selection he had gotten for this visit. It was a simple red wine that he bought, nothing cheap, but not something you would see in a five star restaurant. However, he added a little something to it to relax his mother.

He brought her a glass of the wine in an ornate wine glass. It sloshed ever so slightly in the glass. “Please mother, drink.” He handed her the tainted wine.

“It’s about damn time.” She said under her breath before snatching the glass from his hand, and quickly drank half of the red liquid. “What is this?”

“You’ll see soon enough mother.” He said, laughing slightly, and sitting down in a chair in front of her. “Sleep well.”

She quickly fell asleep in her chair, and spilled the remainder of the glass on the floor in a hilarious spectacle. Gregory moved quickly, and carried his mother into the basement of the estate. It was a room of nightmares. There was a table with straps to retrain his victim, and then torture tools from the simple knife, to supplies for water boarding, and even tools that one would find in an ancient Roman dungeon.

He dragged his mother, and attached her to the table. “What to do with you?” He thought to himself as he looked through his supplies. “I suppose this will do nicely.” He took out a large sharp blade. It was covered in dried blood from his other victims. “I do have a tradition to keep up after all.” The tradition he thought of was a grotesque one. He would await for his victim to awake, and then see if she would scream. If they screamed, and they always screamed, he would use a device to cut the tongue out of the victim. He would freeze the tongue, and keep it for later use. This would also kill the victim, or at least make them unconscious from excessive blood loss, so he wouldn’t do this right away. No, he would do something much worse to the woman who tormented him for most of his young life.

“Wake up mother.” He said in a cold voice as he shook her awake. “It’s time for the festivities.”

She awoke groggily, “Where am I?” She asked, still awaking from her forced slumber. She attempted to move, but the restraints kept her from doing so. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She asked frantically as he stood over her with a knife.

“I’m going to make you pay.” He said, laughing a bit. “Now please, hush up, i need to concentrate.” He took the knife, and slowly began to slice through her skin. Her flesh began to burn worse than it ever has. He kept cutting through, until there was nothing but bare muscle. “Did you know how easy it is to kill a person, and dispose of a body? It’s quite easy. For the kill simply slit their throat, “ He rubbed the flat of the bloody blade against her neck, “then wait for them to bleed out. After they are dead you chop them up into tiny pieces and feed them to the dogs. As for the bones. Well, acid usually does the trick. That’s what’s going to happen to you. You’re going to be eaten and dissolved. However, your death will not be as swift.” He laughed sadistically.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She asked, crying in pain.

“A lot of things. I’m a sociopath for one.” He took out a smaller knife, a scalpel, and made an incision through the muscle to find some bone. “The leg bone, is a very tough bone. I wonder how long it would take to saw through it.” He looked at her straight in the eye, and rubbed the scalpel on her bone. She was trying to be strong, but couldn’t. She began to bawl in pain.

“Please stop!” She cried as he continued.

“This is too fun to stop.” He said laughing. “Now, you abused me for most of my life. I’m going to make sure the rest of your life is as torturous as possible.” Gregory calmly walked over to her legs, and cut a hole over her crotch, so that he could see her pussy. He took his scalpel and slowly began to cut off the lips of her genitals until they were just a bloody mess.

His mother threw up from all this pain, and passed out from shock. “No no, we can’t have you doing that.” Gregory walked over to a table and grabbed an adrenaline shot, and quickly shot it into her. “It’s rude to fall asleep when you are a guest in someone else’s home.”

She could hardly move from all the pain. She just sat there, wishing it could be all over.

“I’m afraid that I’m gonna need to do something so that you know not to fall asleep in my home.” He took out a metal toothpick, and walked over to her. He placed the toothpick over her eye and slowly started to press it in. The screaming started again, as she gained a quick burst of energy and began to struggle again. As soon as the toothpick was in, he pulled out the eye. There was still the flesh connecting the eye to the brain, so he began to pull on it. She was in total agony, and Gregory reveled in it. The eye was separated, and in his hand.

“Open wide.” He said, talking to her like a mother would speak to her child.

Her mouth didn’t open. He grabbed a hammer, and lined it up with her jaw before taking a heavy swing. There was a loud snapping noise, and just like that her jaw was no longer connected to the rest of her mouth. As her mouth hung open, he crammed the eyeball in, and made sure it went down the wrong hole. She began to cough and gag, and soon she died.

He took a sigh, “She was weak.” he began to clean up when he heard something strange. It was some kind of warped noise. Lighting striking nearby perhaps? No, it was something more peculiar. It was like something that you would read about in a science fiction novel.

He left his position from beside his mother, and walked upstairs, only to see something very strange. The closet door in his home, the one that would normally hold his coats, was shining from the cracks. He slowly leaned in to grip the doorknob, but it’s heat was too much, and it burned his hand.

“Dammit!” He cried as he shook his hand free from the grip that the heat had on him. “What is this?” He grabbed a rag and flung the door open, only to see something that he thought he would never see. His thinking that probably stemmed from him not knowing it existed, but this is just a story, so why even explain such things? Well, I do not know, but what I do know is that he peaked his head out the door, only to see something strange in the distance. It was a pair of ponies, talking to eachother. He had never seen anything like it. One was pink and had a main like that of a young lass, and the other wasn’t even a horse! It was some strange creature, a mix of a unicorn and a pegasus. She was purple.

He decided not to draw attention to himself, and quickly grabbed the body of his brutalized mother, and through it out onto the field that the two were walking across. He closed the door.

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“Why did you want to take me out here again?” Asked Twilight as the two meandered through the field, taking in the scenery.

“I saw something, a stump that had a carving of a butterfly on it.” Pinkie looked at her with an excited smile.

“Only you could be fascinated by a stump.” Said Twilight, laughing a bit.

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes, and then gasped as she noticed something in the distance. It smelled like rancid meat. A smell they would have encountered during their adventure in the dragon’s cave. To Pinkie Pie it looked like a giant hog causing a bloody stain on the grass, but upon her approaching it, she noticed it was a human.

You see, humans in Equestria are a rarity, but they are seen from time to time. The occasional human village is spotted, maybe containing twenty people or so. They come when the space time continuum is twisted, and making a wormhole that opens, dragging a human or two into Equestria. The strange part is that they always end up in Ponyville. Even stranger than that they either unconditionally love them, or hate them. Only Discord is ever able to see through the bullshit. Oh, the plot holes that this universe is forced to endure.

“What is it?” Asked Twilight as she caught up with the previously dashing Pinkie Pie.

“It’s a body. Uhm, I think it’s a human.” Pinkie said, poking the mangled, naked corpse with her bare hoof.

“Don’t touch it!” Shouted Twilight, as she pushed Pinkie Pie back, and picked up the body with a levitation spell. “This isn’t good. Where did this even come from?” Twilight asked herself as she examined the body. “It couldn’t have just fallen out of the sky. I think we ought to go to Princess Celestia about this.”

“Can we look at the stump first?” Pinkie asked, oblivious to the situation.

“No, we need to go now!”

“Fine!” Retorted the pink party pony as they began walking towards Ponyville to catch a train towards Canterlot.

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Gregory slapped his hands together as he went to clean off his clothes, as well as his now soiled dungeon. The cleaning process has always been an arduous task, however, this would be the first time he wouldn’t have to deal with disposing of the body. He grabbed a sponge and some soapy water, and began to scrub the bloody stone, thinking about what he saw through his closet door.

“Have I gone insane?” He thought to himself as he worked to get the blood from the stone. “If I once more opened that door, would I see that colorful field again, or would I simply see my mangled mother causing a mess on my fresh carpet.” Just like that he dashed upstairs through the lonely mansion, and threw open the door that he stuffed his mother through. It was his old closet, his jackets were laying about in their normal manner. However, there was no blood from his mother, and his mother’s corpse wasn’t there. Had he even killed her? Of course he had, the blood was all too real. The smell was also very real. Oh, when will he learn to light some candles to help snuff out the odor of a dead body. Even when a body is removed quickly, the smell is still very strong.

Gregory moved back to the arduous task of cleaning the basement, and continued to think about what he saw as he worked. “If that was real, I wonder where that was. It was clearly no where near here, and it looked like it was in another world altogether. Those were god damn talking horses!”

Gregory finished his cleaning, and took stock of his tools. Oh his tools. With the majority of his family dead, his tools were the only things he could count on. They could always cut through the muscle they needed to, or shatter the bones of a crying creature. They were his friends, they were his family.

Where has this story gone? I certainly don’t know, speaking of cleaning, and his sanity is interesting and all, but what of action? Yes, that’s what someone who clicks on a story such as this wants to see. Action. Well, I suppose action in this context would be more akin to horror than your typical blockbuster. Let’s skip forward two days, and see if that will settle your appetite.
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Here we are, the next scene where our story may come closer to a conclusion. We know when, two days later, but what about where? Oh, well, that location is Detroit, but not the posh place where Gregory would call home. No, now we are in a small ghetto. The sun is shining on the busted roads, and the houses which seem to be in shambles more often than not. “Why is Gregory in a place like this?” You may be asking that question. Well, he recently made a call with a business partner who had been helping him escape the draft. He approached his door, and knocked.

“What do you need?” Asked an angry man from the inside.

“It’s me, Gregory!” Gregory shouted back, as a slide opened to which you could see the red eyes of a black man.

“Greg! Come on in!” The man laughed, and let in Gregory.

This man that let in our main character was a simple man, but not a good man. He was driven by money, and wasn’t above the occasional murder to get where he needed to go. His trade was forgery, and he was one of the best in the field. However, his price was high, and more often than not people would rather just go to war than pay him, and others like him to get out of the draft. The man’s name was John, and he was feared throughout the ghetto. He is worth a lot of money, much more than his address would let you onto. His idea was that if he lived in a slum, he would be less of a suspect for someone who is profiting off of keeping people away from the war. He was right. While many people were being arrested, and sometimes killed over these forgeries, he lived comfortably in his home.

“So what do you need Greg?” He asked, taking out some pens.

“Anti psychotics.” Gregory quickly responded, laughing.

“Why do you want those?” John put down his pen.

“I killed again, and this time it was weird. After she died, I saw something that I can’t explain. In my closet there was a field with some talking colorful horses.”

“What the fuck have you been smoking?” John asked sarcastically as he pulled out a prescription pad.

“This isn’t funny. I don’t know if what I saw was a hallucination or what, but if it is, then some of these should help...at least a little.”

John was writing the prescription, and whenever he wrote, he needed silence to concentrate. This left Gregory with nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts that made him wonder why he killed in the first place. He was abused as a child by his mother, and sisters, but all of them were dead now. There were also some other bodies on his hands that were innocent. Why did he kill them? Thinking about it, he didn’t know. He got no sexual thrill from it like some killers did, and he didn’t find it to be extremely fun, except for when it was his mother and eldest sister who enjoyed torturing him the most. Did he feel like he had to? I would like to tell you, but he doesn’t even know. It was for revenge, but he didn’t know why he wanted revenge, especially now that all his abusers were dead. These were questions he didn’t have enough time to really think about, because he was soon handed the prescription, and paid the man his fifty dollars.

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“Princess Celestia!” Pinkie Pie shouted, as the two mares, Twilight and Pinkie, bursted through the twin doors that lead into the court of the sun and moon.

“What do you…” Princess Celestia quickly grew quiet, as she noticed the dead human body being carried with them. Most of the blood was dried by this point, but the brutality could still be seen on the flesh. “What is this?”

“We found her in the field near Ponyville.” Twilight said, “We have no idea how she got here.”

“This isn’t good. “ Celestia said, coming down from her throne to more carefully examine the corpse. “If whoever killed this creature is roaming around here, then we may have a problem.” She started walking back towards her throne. This throne sat in a glamorous hall, lined with platinum and gold that would rival even the most frugal of Persian emperors. “I am going to give you girls a mission. You must find the thing that has killed this woman, and bring it to me.”

“Okay Princess. Should I get my other friends to help?” Twilight responded, as Pinkie began to walk around absentminded.

“No. They are doing their own duties, you two must get this job done.”

“Okie dokie!” Pinkie shouted from across the room.

“Is she acting a bit slower than normal?” Celestia looked over at the door that Pinkie Pie was peeking from.

“It would look that way.”

“The universe is really pissing on us.” Celestia said with a deep sigh.

Hmm, a princess uses a swear, that doesn’t seem right, but that’s what’s in the script. Perhaps that was something that the writers put in on a drunk evening when they were trying to think of something dark and edgy to put in it. Why not give those lines to our human...antagonist? I realize he killed his family, as well as some other helpless women and girls, but is he really the evil that this story will have to deal with in the end? What if Sombra came, and threatened to take over all of Equestria with his army of undead unicorns! Then Gregory came out with a submachine gun, and started gunning them all down! No, that would be idiotic.

Twilight and Pinkie began to walk out of the royal court. The sun shined brightly on their fur, and the warmth of it made them smile ever so gently. They started walking back towards the train depot to catch a ride back to Ponyville. This ride would be delayed, and they would just relax at the depot.

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Gregory made it back to his mansion in a timely manner, and the first thing he did when he stepped through his masterfully built door was take two pills of the anti-psychotics that he had gotten less than legally. As soon as he took them they seemed to kick in. He was feeling a little off physically, but mentally he felt stable. He went to sit down on his couch and read the paper. His heart sank. The headline, “Mother of Millionaire Missing.”

“Shit!” He shouted as he through the newspaper down, to double check that all the blood was gone, and that the body really was gone. When he opened up that closet though, he began thinking again. Where did the body of his mother go? Things like that don’t just disappear. He closed the closet, and almost immediately he heard that warped noise, and he quickly opened the door. Only this time, it didn’t open to a field, it opened to an orchard. An apple orchard to be specific. He grabbed his gun, a simple M1911 Colt, and some ammunition.

When he read that paper, not only did it say that he was the prime suspect for the disappearance of his mother, but also the article pointed him out as the killer of his sisters, as well as the other innocents he brought to an unfortunate, and exceptionally painful end. The orchard was looking like a way out, perhaps it was heaven, perhaps it was god giving him a second chance by working in heaven, or perhaps he was just high on some bad medicine. I know the answer, but if you want to know it, well, you know what? You can guess.

He stepped through the door, and instantly he felt different. He looked down, and his arms and legs were still there. Just, everything felt different. Gravity was weighing on him less, and he just felt stronger. Not much stronger, he wasn’t going to be bench pressing trains. He took another step out, the door was still open.

Another step, and he was directly in front of a tree, a tree he promptly sat up against. There were apples all around him, big, red ones too. Maybe this was heaven. No, his heaven would be different. His heaven would be him murdering people for the hell of it. You see, it doesn’t matter what peace he sees, he won’t be happy unless he sees the pain of others. This man truly deserves to die.

“Who’s out there?” Asked a country girl, or so he thought.

“Sorry miss,” He said, gripping his gun, thinking he found a new victim. They were in the middle of no where, with no homes anywhere to be seen. He stood up, “I’ll leave now.” He stepped from the tree with his gun drawn, and he was left dumbstruck by what he saw. He thought, maybe that he was hearing things the last time, but nope, there was a talking pony right in front of him. It didn’t stop him though. He cared even less since it was a pony, and not a human. Two bullets were fired, one landed in her left hoof, and one in her right. He walked over, and kicked her as hard as he could in the head before dragging her back into the closet.

The bloody pony would cause a mess, but whatever. He had completely forgotten about the police that might bust in at any moment. It would take a few minutes before Applejack would wake up.

“Hello there.” He said, laughing as the bound pony woke up.

“Where the hay am I?” She asked, struggling against the chains he used instead of ropes.

“You’re in my basement.” He took out a large knife.

“What the buck do you plan on doing!”

“Killing you, in a slow and painful manner.”

“What did I ever do to you!” She screamed, unable to break her bindings.

He slowly and calmly walked up to her, and leaned in so that he could whisper in her ear, “Absolutely nothing.” He took that knife, and slowly began to slice through her ear. Applejack was somehow quiet, perhaps she was much stronger than the humans that he had killed. The look on her face was beyond pained, she was in complete agony, and he had barely even started.

The ear was off, and normally at this point he might cut off some toes or fingers or something, but with this being a horse, he had a better idea. However, through this whole thing he was questioning his sanity. He grabbed a hammer and a large bolt that one would use in the construction of a railroad. He lined it up with the bottom of her back left hoof. After he began pressing it in so that when he smashed it in, it would go through her bone. He did just that. With one swift and hard hit with his hammer against that bolt, it was through the thin layer of skin, and had chipped the bone. Applejack couldn’t hold her tears back at this point, because she began crying and vomiting all over the floor.

It was a good sight for our antagonist. He loved to watch his victim be in pain, but more than that, he liked to feel powerful. He was in ecstasy while he was doing what he was doing. Then he realized it, why he killed. He just enjoyed killing. At least that’s what I think this script reads. The author didn’t have the best of handwriting.

He saw the hell that Applejack was going through, and he didn’t even know her name. He liked to be somewhat personal with his victims, it made it more fun to him. Also, it would be rude for him to not ask for her name.

“What’s your name?” He asked, applying more pressure to the bolt before lining it up with the hammer again.

“Buck you!” She shouted in a shuttered tone.

“Buck? Hay? Why not fuck and hell?” He asked, laughing a bit.

She grunted, and turned her head.

“Fine, be that way.” He said calmly as he struck the bolt with his hammer, driving it deeper into the bone. Half of the length was in the bone, and he had every intention of pressing the entire thing in. Another strike and the bolt was completely in. She seemed to be completely out of it. Not dead, nor passed out, just in shock.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He walked over to her, and slapped her hard against the face. “You need to be awake, or you won’t be able to enjoy all this.”

She looked at him with a terrified expression. As many who read this would know, Applejack is one who is seldom scared. However, even the strongest could be scared by a most gruesome death as this.

Gregory walked over to her face, and looked her over. She was definitely a pretty specimen. She honestly looked partially human. She obviously had the body of a pony, but her face is what made him think of a human’s. He was going to ruin it.

He took the hammer and rose it, “Please open your mouth.” He ordered, but Applejack was refusing it. He brought the hammer down on her jaw, smashing it in a bloody spectacle of broken teeth and bone. He grabbed the broken jaw, and took a knife out. He separated the flesh connecting the shattered jaw with the rest of her head, and cut it out. He proceeded to take his hammer once more and swing it at her teeth. They gave immediately, sending a few of them down her throat, and others splitting open her mouth.

Applejack was bleeding quite profusely, and after a few moments. The pony was dead. He heard something that he had feared a moment after. The police were raiding his residence. He grabbed Thompson that he had in basement, and slowly crept upstairs, hoping he could make it to the closet before they spotted him.

Then, they did spot him. This is the part where the normal writer might kill him as part of the happy ending. No, Gregory quickly shot the three officers that had raided his house before rushing through the closet, and back into Equestria. The closet door was shut, and Gregory was never to be caught by the police.

The End

Wait, what! That’s the end! No, no, that will not do. There is no more of the script. Hmm, I will have to contact the writers. There is still the plot thread of Twilight and Pinkie that hasn’t been resolved, and so many more things that need to happen. I suppose time must freeze for now, until I am able to tell the rest of this story.