Magenta Moon had lived in Hollow Shades all her life. It was a run down small town, with old buildings, old traditions, and old folks all around. It was far from Canterlot Castle, but this quiet community on the edge of Fillydelphia, was still under the rule of the two sisters, (mainly Luna). However, the princess of the night had yet to make an appearance in the town since her reformation, (even though it was rumored that the Hollow Shade ponies were the descendants of her nightly children). In tern, the town had it’s own long list of traditional rules; most bigoted, biased, and founded on superstition ever since their princess was locked away for a thousand years, (and the additional few since her release). Thankfully those old ways were dying out... Magenta Moon had enough, 'back in my day' stories from her great grand aunt, who joked that the Lottery should be reinstated in the town. She shuttered at the thought.
The sandy brown mare trotted down the beaten path through the village with care. Most ponyfolk had already turned in for the night, as it was two hours past sundown. Hollow Shades had a year round thick canopy that shielded the residence from the suns light, giving it a rather haunting appearance. Luna's blankets, some called it… Nightmare Moons coffin, whispered others. At night, their world was thrown into pitch black darkness. The only light was the occasional candle flickering in residents home windows, their only guide should they get lost. The twelve street lamps that ran down the towns main street were dim, the bulbs long past due to change, as four were burnt out, and three others constantly flickered. Their soft golden glow didn’t even reach as far as the following lamp post.
This did not scare the young mare, because this was her home, but she did feel a chill that ruffled her coat. Her saddle pack, (which matched her cutie mark of a brown feather over a dark pink crescent moon), had a recently broken strap, so Magenta Moon carried it within her mouth; her dark pink eyes showing how weary the task was growing on her. Her jaw was stiff, the muscles in her face getting sore. It was moments like these that she wished she was a unicorn so she could magically carry her pack. Or maybe it would be cool if she was a bat pony instead. She’d simply fly back home without disturbing the sleepy town with her echoing hoof-falls, AND she’d be able to see better in the dark! Oh why, oh why, was the library so far from her cabin? Magenta reminded herself that next time, probably tomorrow, she’d lock up the shop a bit earlier, no matter how badly she wanted to reorganize the shelves. She huffed into the fabric, wincing at every loud crunch her hooves made against the forest floor debris.
The town was still, the community nestled deep within the belly of Willow Woods… or as the travelers called it, Weeping Woods; because all the trees looked sad. Their branches were thick, twisted, and curled in on each other like petrified fingers. The night wind rolled over Foal Mountain and rustled the tree tops, their naked autumn limbs chattering in complaint to the cold. Decomposing leaves; red, yellow, and brown, scattered across the stiff ground. Magenta Moon braced herself against the early winter breeze, her teeth chattering against her saddle pack. Soon, she mused. Soon she'd be home, bundled in her heavy quilts, reading the next installment of Daring Do's latest adventure. She repeated the thought over and over again as she stalked home, her eyes fixated on the cobblestone road, and her hoof falls becoming rhythmic.
In the dark of the night, a shrill shriek shattered the silence.
It was enough that the mare dropped her saddle pack, spilling the contents of her feather quilled pens, papers, and notebooks about the forest floor. She stood petrified, undeterred from the wind blowing away her pages. Her pink stripped mane stood on end. Her wide eyes zeroed in on the darkest parts of the forest, shifting back and forth as if she’d soon see some horror before her… but as her heart hammered against her breast, and her pulse pounded loud in her ears, nothing seemed to move. She felt her fur ruffle from the shiver down her spine. What was the scream that she had heard? Her mouth went dry as she stood, mouth agape, under the last lamp post.
It was the rustle of her scattered work that broke the mare from her paranoid trance, and she quickly cantered after the spiraling papers. She stomped them, grabbing some with her mouth and hastily stuffing them back in her dirtied saddle pack, uncaring of how the pages creased, bent, and ripped. She tried to shake the nerves away, rationalizing the scream that shook her to the core. Was it a prank some bat pony was pulling? Maybe a feral animal caught in a trap? Possibly a lone pony lost and scared in the woods? A murder?! She shook her head and snorted. Stop it! She told herself, and flipped the saddle pack closed. She hoped she had gathered all her items, and she hastily got out of the open and towards her home cottage. If I never heard another scream like that, Magenta Moon thought to herself, then I'll be forever grateful. She tried to ignore it, but the echo of the scream vibrated off her skull. It was a mare, she knew it, and it didn’t sound like a prank…
No, she thought firmly, it was the wind. Nothing more, she stomped, and onward she went. The longer she trotted down the now earth beaten path, the closer she got to her modest house, and the more at ease she felt. Once she turned left into her little neighborhood, she couldn’t help but smile around her bag when her eyes saw the soft pink siding of her home. Her hooves quickened, cantering now up her three porch steps and to her front door.
“NO, PLEASE, HELP!”
Magenta Moon flung her door open, threw herself inside, and slammed it shut behind her. She gasped, body shaking and bottom lip quivering, as she stood in the small living room, starring at her door like some ghost was about to seep through the cracks. She waited for a body to bang against her door, more cries for help, and blood pooling over the threshold of her door, but nothing happened. She shook the visions away, falling to the floor and burring her head in her hooves. She felt a sweat break across her body, feeling hot and cold at the same time. She shivered, unable to stop herself from trembling on the floor. She cried out when she felt a hoof on her shoulder, and instinctively kicked at whatever touched her.
“Whoa! Whoa, Magen-” her back hoof caught his cheek as she scrambled away. She flinched when his body hit the wall, knocking over her empty coat rack. It clattered loudly across the floor. It took Magenta a moment to recognize the soft purplish-blue astronaut coat color of her long time friend.
“Wired Words…” she breathed, “I’m… I’m so sorry…” she watched as he rubbed his bruised face, unable to see through his striped pink lola mane.
“No. It’s alright,” he mumbled. “I got out of work early, thought we could play a few games…” he worked his jaw, making sure it actually still worked. Magenta Moon glanced down at his cutie mark, a purple book with a grey and purple video game controller laying over it. It wasn’t unnatural that he’d show up randomly. He was often found at her place when he was bored. “I didn’t think you’d be out this late, I napped on your couch until you slamming the door woke me.” Her wide eyes met his, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Magenta Moon opened her mouth, but paused. Wired Words had been asleep until she shut the door. There was no way he would’ve heard some mare screaming outside. She closed her mouth, feeling like she was going crazy. “I… I thought something was behind me,” she looked away, swallowing her lie thickly. “It was nothing,” she stated, but deep down in her shuttering soul, she felt regret well up inside her. Because no matter what she told herself, that some pony crying for help was real, she could feel it.
And Magenta Moon didn’t lift a hoof to help her.
