Face with the Dead Sockets
It was nearing dusk, as the receding sunlight drifted slowly behind a lone farmstead. There lived a normal family; a father, a mother and a foal. A simple life they chose over the bustling city. However, life was not so simple for the foal. As at any young age, life get's more and more complex as newer things bear on such a fresh mind; changing it, for better or for worse.
Zephyr looked out the window. Seeing the coming darkness, he shuddered; it was that time again, bed time. He hated bed time, he was scared of bed time. To his parents, it was the coming winter and the nervousness of moving into a new home. They thought nothing of his fear. Of course, Zephyr's parents did not ignore his screams and his crying. The colt knew they loved him, but they were comforting him for the wrong reasons. His real fear is not the new place in which he now lives, but the thing that inhabits the rooms and halls. Zephyr shook the thought from his head, not wanting to be too anxious to the point he couldn’t sleep.
He heard a shuffle and a small clatter of stone upon wood. Looking up from his coloring book Zephyr noticed a plate had been put out in front of him. It was his bedtime snack; a biscuit. Alongside it, a glass of cold water was also placed. He looked up at his mother and smiled. It was his way of saying thanks.
Eating his biscuit and finishing off the glass, Zephyr took the plate in his mouth and made his way to the kitchen. Mama always did so much work for him and he was getting bigger, so to him, that meant he had to act bigger. However, there was a tight cramp in his side and his heart rate was slowly picking up. To make things worse, drops of sweat were rolling down his face making him itchy.
“Thank you, Zephyr,” said his mother. She picked him up and proceeded to take him down the hall. Zephyr began to kick and curse in gibberish at his mother, but she had nothing of it, taking his protests with a grain of salt.
When they arrived at his room, Zephyr was already too exhausted to continue on. Looking over his shoulder he spotted his crib. This prison was getting too small for him, but his father kept it up to date with some jury rigged extensions due to his repeated escape attempts after moving him to a big colt’s bed.
His mother sang him his lullaby and kissed him good night. Once again Zephyr tried to speak, but the words only came out in gibberish as they always did. One last ditch effort to save himself from the darkness only to fail as his cell walls rose around him. The lights went off and his mother closed the door, leaving him in almost complete darkness with only the light of the moon with the weird face to bleed through the curtains. He closed his eyes and blocked everything out in the hopes of falling asleep. But as soon as he felt his mind slip, he was yanked by the foreleg.
It’s happening again, as it did every night since he moved here: the face with the dead sockets.
Whimpering from the pain, Zephyr tried to ignore it and fall asleep, only to fail as he was struck on the snoot, causing him to let out a yelp. Remembering, he quickly muffled his mouth. If his parents heard and checked on him, this thing always made it worse for him and he was already sore enough from last night’s confrontation.
Zephyr’s ear was pulled and he let out another cry as the side of his face was smashed against the prison wall. The impact stung and he could feel something warm running down the side of his muzzle. Opening his eyes, he could see it; the face with the dead sockets.
His father had once removed a dead mouse. Its eyes were milky and didn’t sparkle like the eyes of things that moved. But this thing with the dead sockets. It didn’t have eyes, but the holes where eyes would be were milky and lifeless, while the face was tight, torn, grayed and smelt like that mouse.
Zephyr was struck another time. It really hurt when he hit him down there, much worse than everywhere else. It was becoming obvious this mean thing didn’t like being stared at. In response to his torment, he intended to let out a stream of curses, but again...just gibberish.
The face with the dead sockets chuckled. “Nobody will ever save you. You are nothing. You are weak. You’ll never be strong.”
Zephyr’s fear was replaced with anger as he attempted to hit the face with his hoof, only to have it pass through. The thing laughed again and struck him harder than before, this time on the rib. A crack was audible and he cried out, remembering to quickly muffle his voice. Tears burst into his eyes and as quickly as it started, the face vanished; it had its play for the night.
Quietly crying, he rocked himself to sleep, in the hopes of having a nice dream.
***
Waking in the morning, Zephyr couldn’t remember if he had a nightmare or not, but he could smell breakfast being made. He took in a deep breath to get a taste, only to stop from a sharp stabbing in his side. The thing hurt him last night, much worse than before. In the past, just a minor bruise here and there. But now, there was a broken bone and swelling. Enough to make his parents notice... or so he hoped.
Zephyr called out, “Mama!” he waited for a shuffle near his door. A mere minute later, he saw his mother come in. She was smiling. Always smiling.
Lowering his prison bars, she lifted him out of his crib. Zephyr yelped as she applied pressure to his ribs. Startled, his mother put him down into the crib and searched for injuries. She noticed the bruising.
“Trying to escape last night? How many times do we have to tell you, you go to bed when we put you to bed.”
Grabbing his mother’s hoof, he put it on his broken rib. Her eyes went wide. “No me.”
“Not you?” asked his mother.
Zephyr nodded.
“Please don’t lie to your mother, Zephyr.” She leaned in and stared into his eyes. “I know you don’t like your crib, but you can’t just leave your room like that. Your father and I like to have our private time. I know you can be scared of the dark, but there’s nothing to be worried about. Just close your eyes and know we’re in the other room and are close. We would never let something hurt you.”
Zephyr rolled his eyes and nodded in response. Another useless attempt. What’s new?
His mother swatted his snoot in response to his physical sarcasm. “Look at you, Zephyr. You keep this up and we’re going to end up having to see a doctor. And I know you don’t like the doctor.”
Another shuffle, he watched his father walk in. “How bad is it this time?” he asked.
“He managed to give himself a small hairline fracture on his rib. I’ll send a letter to Dr. Rye,” his mother replied.
His father chuckled and shook his head. “My little colt is getting stronger, it seems. He’ll make a fine young lad to help me with the fields come spring.”
Zephyr couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could his parents be so clueless? Sighing, he jumped out of his crib and made his way to the kitchen, intent on serving himself. It was becoming evident that more and more was to be expected of him as he grew older... even if he was only six.
Rummaging under the counter, Zephyr found an oat and grain mix cereal; his favourite. Putting it aside, he jumped up onto his chair and grabbed a bowl already set out on the table and dumped some of the contents of the cereal bag into it. Picking up the bowl, he found a little nook in the kitchen and began eating. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked sitting in a corner on a cold floor.
Zephyr sighed again at the thoughts going through his head. He needed to find a way to get rid of that thing by himself. He saw his father sometimes pray to Celestia and with that, a thought hit him that made him feel really stupid, maybe that would work.
Watching his mother and father walk in, he stuck his tongue out at them. His mother didn’t take notice to the gesture but his father did, causing him to laugh in response.
As the day progressed, Zephyr had gotten more thoughtful. He needed to somehow get rid of this thing since his parents appeared to lack the intellect to notice. Praying was his first option, he intended to pray for Celestia’s power to flow through him so he can banish it to wherever itcame from. Other options he thought of were more intricate, such as sleeping with his parents or using the vacuum cleaner. Although how a vacuum cleaner would work was beyond him. Anything was worth trying at this point. After all, he didn’t want to end up like that mouse.
The face was getting more and more violent, and was already arrogant. It could disappear fast if it wanted to, but what if he angered it while in their bed? It would hurt him more and his parents would realize it’s not him that’s doing it; unless they are completely clueless, and that he was starting to suspect.
By the beginning of the evening, he had managed to convince his parents of sleeping with him; using the ‘spoiled colt not being loved enough’ as an excuse. Of course, his mother saw right through him, but it had been a while, so she and his father let it slip.
As bedtime neared, Zephyr found himself sitting in the family bathtub. He had convinced himself that this was going to be an epic failure and would most definitely lead to his own demise in one form or another, but he was willing to take such a risk. And as his mother bathed him he couldn’t help but feel a little prideful. If this worked out, he wouldn’t need the crib anymore and it would certainly help with his self esteem. He may have a speech impediment, but he was still a capable colt otherwise.
After Zephyr had his bath, he was led to his parents’ room. He felt his mother’s teeth grip his scruff and was quickly tossed onto the bed beside his father. After turning off the lights his mother quickly snuggled into bed with the two. Nothing was said, of course; nothing needed to be said. Get into bed, fall asleep and snuggle with your loved ones.
Zephyr waited and waited, but nothing seemed to happen. Perhaps he wasn’t going to get so lucky, but as doubt began to fill his heart, the stench of that mouse quickly filled his nostrils. Zephyr smiled and not a happy smile, but more of a manic one. He began to pray.
Celestia, it’s me, Zephyr. Not sure if you can hear me, but I need you. A dead face has been hurting me for a month now, and I fear it will get worse. I can’t talk because of something wrong with my head... I can’t tell it to go away. Please, if you can hear me, extend your will through me and banish this monster!
Zephyr waited, but he felt no response. His first option had failed, but he was not defeated. He awaited his beating.
Mere seconds later, he felt a grip on his foreleg and it pulled... hard. Zephyr whimpered as his leg was stretched, but it didn’t stop. Thoughts began to run through his mind, he began to fear for something more. Something instinctual rushed up from within, telling him to run, to fight.
He cursed the face again and this time his thoughts were loud. “Bugger off!”
The pulling stopped and he felt something recoil. A warmth began to fill his heart and Zephyr felt the need to speak further. “Go away and never come back. By Celestia’s will, I curse you to the depths of Tartarus to never return!”
The face roared in rage in response to his command. Out of the corner of his eye, Zephyr saw a hoof fly at him and braced for the coming impact only to receive a light bump on his muzzle. Another hoof was flung towards him, this one aimed for his gut, but completely dispersed on contact like water upon rocks. And as soon as it started, it was gone.
Zephyr felt as though a great weight was lifted off his shoulders, a happiness filled his heart and something happened that hasn’t happened in a while. A smile and It wasn’t forced like they have been in the past.
Heaving a sigh of relief he noticed a sudden shift and a rough breath on the nape of his neck “Yeah, son. What is it?” asked his father.
Zephyr smiled even more, he was more than happy to reply... Gibberish. Well, it was good while it lasted. He settled for nuzzling closer to his dad, before falling into peaceful slumber at last.
