Nightmare Night. The night that comes once every year, a night when colts and fillies go from house to house, seeking out delicious sweets and treats, playing lighthearted games, and pulling innocent pranks on their friends. A night where most would let their guards down to fully enjoy the rush of being spooked and scared by anyone in a creepy mask. The perfect night for fun family outings, the perfect night for defiant adolescents to throw crazy house parties whilst their parents were out all night drinking and celebrating with their friends, the perfect night for marketing silly and scary costumes...
The perfect night for murder.
A group of colts had just finished pranking their friend; the fate of the victim was a harmless barrage of toilet paper stuck on his roof and in the trees on his front lawn, a mess he would surely have to help his father clean up in the morning. The young pranksters snickered and hollered enthusiastically at their own antics as they ran down the ancient cobblestone streets of downtown Canterlot’s residential area, all failing to notice a pair of bloodshot eyes leering at them from a darkened alleyway between two homes.
But he was not targeting them, oh no. They were merely passers-by, and were not an obstacle that would impede his progress in reaching his goal. He sighed in a low, raspy voice, one that was laden with absolute hatred, disgust, and detestation, as if he was constantly tasting cold ashes, and was tired of the flavor. He turned around, back into the pitch black alleyway, and looked up at a pair of luminescent, blue slitted eyes. From the narrow maw of the face these eyes belonged to came a malevolent, scheming giggle.
“So, my dearest Pipsqueak.” She began, her horn lighting up dimly to reveal her midnight blue, anthropomorphic body, but not enough to attract any unwanted attention from civilians walking past the iron bars separating them from the two corrupted individuals. “You seek my power, to destroy them. Do you not?” She giggled again, barring a sharp-toothed smirk. “I can see why you would want to destroy them. They abandoned you, dropped you off in a town you didn’t know, and you were still just a helpless, sniveling foal. And all the while, what were they doing, hm? Living comfortably in a mansion of a home, in the most expensive district in the capital city! Oh, you poor thing~” She cooed in a false, motherlike tone, her wing protectively covering his back, pulling him closer to her, allowing his patchy, unkempt, dirtied fur to rest against the black void that was her mane. “We aren’t so different, you and I. We both were abandoned, betrayed, by people we thought were there to love and care for us. They deserve to be destroyed. They never loved you, not like I did. When everyone else pushed you aside, dismissed you, turned away, spat at you in disgust, like the narcissistic aristocrats this Canterlot bunch have always been, I took you under my wing. I accepted you. I’ve always valued you as one of the few true children of the night.”
The orphan shook with barely-contained animalistic cackles, his unnaturally red irises spinning wildly against the yellowed, bloodshot sclera. He looked up into his captor’s eyes and nodded slowly, his expression suddenly turning to an understanding rage. “Yes, Nightmare Mother. It will be done.” He spoke in a low growl, shaking in his chest with artificial anger, his voice two-toned, as per his possessed body, the demonic grunting mixing sickly with his Trottingham accent, the two frequencies combating each other, fusing to make grossly irregular voice that hardly matched the boy’s lanky frame. “Shall I go now, Mother? I might be seen at such an early hour, but I’m certain these weakling commuters would hardly be a problem against your power.” He smirked sickly, his crooked, yellowed teeth shining dimly in the light of his ‘Mother’s’ horn. His eyes darting from left to right as his body twitched. His overgrown fur was patchy and nappy, matted down with water and mud. His hair, long and unruly, was dreaded together from lack of care or washing. There were dark scabs and scars where his fur had previously been, having been scratched and torn away by the boy’s own hands. The ends of his fingers were black and rough, having scratched and clawed at the walls of the alleys he resided in to hide from the public.
“Not yet, my child. You will have your time to kill, but it is not now. Your revenge will be much more satisfying if you wait, I assure you.” She smirked, her eyes glowing brighter as her power surged inside the boy, snaring his soul even more. He began to cackle and cry simultaneously, his body violently heaving and twitching as grotesque images flew through his mind of his target’s demises.
The sudden surge of his mind and body was too much, and he hunched over, holding his gut as he began to vomit, but the only thing that was purged from his stomach was a dark clump of unidentifiable matter, seemingly unaffected by gravity or physics, as it floated around his body and grew and shrank at its own will for a matter of seconds before dropping to the ground, and disappearing altogether, slowly being absorbed into the cracked cobblestone at his feet. He mindlessly wiped his mouth before before nodding shakily, black droplets slowly slipping out from the corners of his mouth. “Yes, Mother.” He sputtered before his stomach emptied itself of the
black, gooey substance several more times as the two waited for several hours. Quiet retching drew the attention of a few curious children throughout the night, but Nightmare Moon soon cloaked herself and Pipsqueak in the same black substance that was burning and decaying Pipsqueak’s insides, making them practically invisible in the darkness of the alleyway.
Soon enough, it was time to strike; the streets were empty and the lights in every house had been shut off. Soft snoring could be heard from an open window high above the Mother and Son, and Nightmare Moon’s ears twitched in response, prompting a sick, cartoonishly large grin to silently grow onto her face. She gently nudged her blindly obedient Child of the Night with the back of her hand. “Okay, dear Pipsqueak, it’s time.” She whispered raspily as she struggled to hold in a wild cackle that was viciously jumping in her throat, fighting her attempts to remain undetected. She managed to put her evil pleasures at bay for the moment, deciding there would be plenty of time to laugh openly once she was at full power once again, and could keep her damned sister’s disgusting sun permanently pushed down under the horizon, and let her moonlight shine forever.
The possessed boy cackled sickly and nodded, eager to begin his massacre. Despite his body being decayed, his muscles had long since been eaten away by the demonic essence inside him, his supernatural strength, gifted to him by Nightmare Moon, made climbing over the barred-off wall separating the alley from the street an effortless task. As he landed, he could hear his own bones snapping under his own weight, and then reforming, the dark matter nesting in his body quickly repairing them. He walked with a hunch, the pointed vertebrae of his spine pulled tight against the skin of his back as he nearly crawled and all four appendages, his arms were so close to the ground due to his Quasimoto-like posture. He cackled sickly, coughing up a small ball of matter as he crawled through the open window of the ground floor of his target’s house. He mumbled incoherently to himself as he searched for the kitchen. Once he found his destination, he quietly but spastically rummaged through drawers and cabinets, looking for anything sharp enough to cut or slice flesh. He smirked and grabbed hold of a knife by the blade as he felt it. The utensil cut deep into his fingers, but with Nightmare Moon’s evil power controlling him, he could not feel pain. He then transferred the knife to his other hand, now holding it by the handle. Blood dripped from the wounds of his cut hand, staining the tile of the kitchen floor as he shuffled over them, smearing it into the soles of his feet. He grunted quietly as he sniffed the air animalistically, his pupils shrinking and his yellow teeth exposing themselves to the darkness as a vaguely familiar scent filled his head. He remembered that smell. The smell of birth, the pain he had put his mother through as he came into this world. He remembered his newborn sobs, and the sounds of muffled pain and gasps of overexertion from his mother. He remembered blurred sounds of surprised doctors as her vitals dropped. His grip on the knife tightened. Apparently he hadn’t put her through enough pain, as she was still sleeping peacefully in her warm, comfortable, sheltered home. He silently cursed himself, had he been a little less of a tiny little thing at birth, he might’ve been able to finish the job then. But no, his fucking strumpet of a mother had to give birth to a justly-named Pipsqueak. Impudent bitch, she was. His bony frame shook with anger, and he began to hyperventilate as he recounted all the pain his so-called parents subjected him to. Years of begging on the streets for food or money, and the thousands of times he’d been ignored or rejected. He’d make those two pay, just a few more steps and he’d make sure they’d beg for mercy, and he’d finally feel joy as he could stare into their eyes and see the fear and misery flood into them as he ever so slowly ripped that mercy from them, replacing it with cold steel, and he’d laugh, and cry, and smile, all in absolute joy as he bathed in their blood, the same way he had when he mindlessly cried as a newborn infant, covered in his mother’s birth-blood. He could barely contain his joy as his heart nearly beat itself out from his ribcage, clearly visible from underneath his leathery, scab-covered skin and his dirty, matted fur.
He ever so slowly crept up the staircase, his quiet breathing labored, as the only thing keeping him alive was the evil within his soul, fueled by Nightmare Moon. Upon reaching the top of the stairwell, he made his way to his parent’s bedroom, where he could hear his father snoring, next to his mother, also in a deep slumber. He smirked as he heard Nightmare Moon’s voice echo in his mind. “Do not worry about noise, my child. I have cloaked the house with my magic. Nobody but you will hear their delicious screams of agony.”
He silently stood at his mother’s side of the bed, looking at her disgusting face. Oh, how he would change her face, slash and beat and scratch it until it was nothing more than a bloodied mess. He would cut out her tongue, gouge out her eyes, and rip out her teeth. He would not kill her quick, no, that would hardly be just for the blathering, careless slut. A timely death was a mercy he could not spare to this whore, or that bastard she married. They deserved to suffer.
He slowly reached forward towards the woman’s wrinkled, aged face. Just as he was about to thrust his bloodied palm over her whorish mouth, he froze. His ears perked as he heard the fat slob next to her snore. He quickly changed the plan in his mind. This would be much more fun. Pipsqueak made his way to the other side of the bed and then slammed his hand over the disgusting man’s mouth, and quickly yank him out of bed before he could fully wake, only starting to resist once he was being dragged by his neck out of the bedroom, and his wife none the wiser. Pipsqueak soon found the bathroom and pulled the portly man inside before shutting the door. With his free hand, Pipsqueak dropped the knife and ripped off the right sleeve of his shirt, balling it up and stuffing the dirtied cloth into the man’s mouth, effectively gagging him. The man tried to scream for help, but the material in his mouth prevented him from letting out anything but a quiet, muffled grunt, and soon, muffled screams of agony as Pipsqueak set to work. He picked the knife back up and held the man’s arm out by the hand. He stabbed the knife through the fat slob’s wrist, cutting through the bone, and all the way through bottom of his hand. He then removed the knife from the brutal wound and used his bare hands to rip off the body part. Ligaments snapped and broke apart grossly as this happened, and blood spilled from the open wound, his father crying and sobbing through the cloth stuffed in his mouth, writhing and thrashing in pain. The orphan growled at him in anger. “Quit moving, you slobby bastard.” He ripped off the shower curtain from it’s track and pushed the man down onto the toilet, tying him to it with the curtain. He then went about severing his other hand, making sure to pull slower this time, so he would feel even more pain. He smirked and cackled sickly before hucking up a mass of dark matter, spitting it onto his face, and watching it burn his skin. This gave him an idea, and he shoved his finger down his own throat, vomiting on the open wounds of the man’s now stumpy, bloodied wrists, cauterizing them so the bleeding would stop, and therefore he could not die quickly from lack of blood. He then did the same to his ankles after cutting and ripping off his feet, going slower each time to prolong the man’s suffering, growing more excited by the second as he watched muscle tissue become long and stringy before snapping like an overexerted rubber band, and drinking the free flowing blood from his father’s stumps. He cackled madly and bit off a chunk of his meaty leg, swallowing it with disgustingly surprising ease. “I’ll be back, fat man. Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” He spat out the warning before heading back to the bedroom, covered in his father’s blood.
He slowly straddled his whore of a mother’s chest before spitting a thick layer of black matter onto his palm and then slapping the woman who created him, the black mass slowly burning a black pattern of her bastard son’s hand onto her cheek, one of his long, bony fingers managing to catch her eye, burning through her eyelid and charring the optical organ until it was a shriveled charcoal in her eye socket. She awoke instantly, a shrill, painful scream emanating from her core, bouncing off the walls violently as she heard her skin sizzle, and tears fell from her working eye as she tried desperately to squirm out from under the beast attacking her. The distorted frame quickly grasped a strong hand over her neck and pressed her back against the mattress, slowly clamping down on her windpipe until only raspy, desperate gasps for oxygen could be faintly heard from her. “Hello, mother… It’s me again. You know, your son?!” He spat at her, instantly grinning as her eyes widened in shock as she slowly realized what was happening, and that the thing attacking her was her abandoned son. He loosened his grip on her throat slightly, just enough for her to speak.
“Please…” She breathed desperately, “Please forgive us…” Upon hearing this, Pipsqueak began cackling insanely while also crying, like the madman he was. No, the madman this bitch pushed him to be.
“Why’d you do this do me? Why, you arrogant whore?!” He screamed with rage, giving her a brutal thrashing, slapping and clawing and punching her face until it was bumpy with bruises and wet with blood, her wounds sizzling shut almost as quickly as they opened. She cried and sobbed, only able to repeat her plea.
“Please forgive us!” As soon as the last word left her mouth, Pipsqueak punched past her teeth, knocking them all out, before grabbing her tongue and squeezing, the matter on the orphan’s hand causing it to melt and become stretchy, stringy, and malleable, like taffy. She screamed in pure agony.
Her son smirked at this and cackled before speaking again, this time in a much calmer, menacing tone. “Scream and shout all you want. My real Mother made sure that nobody else can hear you.”
The woman continued to shriek, and though Nightmare Moon couldn’t hear the screams and wails of suffering while she was standing in the alleyway outside the extravagantly expensive home, the second half of her dual conscious felt Pipsqueak’s heightened heartbeat. In fact the beat was almost one of arousal, absolute pleasure and delight to such a degree that euphoric waves coursed through his veins alongside the black blood pumped out by his corrupted heart. Bit by bit, the devilish mare could feel her servant’s life force weaken. She looked up at the disgusting night sky her slag of a sister had painted with a knowing smile. Everything was running right on schedule, and soon, the final step would be fulfilled. The mare’s chest shook with laughter as she tore her gaze away from the house and towards the night sky. She could almost feel each motion by her murderous slave, and her muscles rippled pleasurably as a dark coolness welled within her, her irises beginning to glow brighter than ever before. “Yes…” She spoke telepathically to the lanky monster currently tearing away at his mother’s now unrecognizable face. “Maul them… destroy them… kill them, dear Pipsqueak! Show them the pain that they so deserve! Tear them to pieces! AHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”
“Yes, Nightmare Mother!” He cried in joy as he continued to mutilate his mother’s face, wrapping her now stretchy tongue around his hand and pulling her by it, dragging her squirming body across the floor to the staircase, and tossing her down, watching and hearing her bones break, bend and snap as she tumbled down the staircase, hitting the bottom with a loud thud, her jaw having slammed into the floor, shattering violently. She cried out in pain, and Pipsqueak slowly descended the staircase with a wicked smile. “Shut up!” He screamed, before proceeding to sever her tongue, tossing it aside, cackling madly as he watched it wiggle and squirm freely in the corner. Finally, Pip decided to end it. After all, he didn’t want to keep Mother waiting too long. He headed back to the bathroom, knife in hand. He slammed the door open with a twisted grin, stepping forward slowly as he watched his father squirm in fear. He leaped forward with a scream and set to work, slashing wildly at the shower curtain and then the fat man’s chest, cackling loudly as he watched fat and muscle slowly fall from inside of his now ajar chest cavity. The bastard of a father gurgled a mouthful of blood and reached out weakly in desperation, only to gasp lowly as he watched his son grab both of his lungs and rip them from their rightful place, now mutely watching in pain and terror as Pipsqueak began to disembowel him, his body stiffening each time one of his organs was pulled from his abdomen. His intestines were ripped open by Pipsqueak’s calloused feet and jagged toenails, and finally his son gave him the end to his pain, the orphan boy pressing his head inside the man’s chest and ripping out his heart with his teeth, crushing it between his yellow, jagged molars. He rose slowly as his father fell limply against the porcelain seat, put to rest at last.
Pipsqueak danced his way downstairs, where his mother was barely conscious, slowly trying to claw her way towards the front door, a streak of blood and teeth trailing behind her. “Don’t worry, you pathetic cunt. I’ll put an end to the pain you so desperately want to get away from.” He smirked evilly as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, his demonic strength hoisting her up above his head. He used his other hand to slice her throat open with the knife, grotesque gurgling sounding off in her esophagus as her blood bathed him, covering his whole body. He then dropped her lifeless body to the ground, and shoved the knife deep into her stomach, making a mess of her bastardized womb, and walking out, covered in the evidence of his brutal murders.
The prodigally violent Son walked to his Mother with a smile, arms wide open as he expected an embrace for his deed. He stood before Nightmare Moon as he watched his parents’ souls leak into her body, her eyes widening as she cackled madly and her body surged and glowed with unmentionable power. “My child… you’ve done it! You’ve given me the last three souls I needed to retain my full power! HAHAHAHAAAAAA!” She wailed in laughter that could pierce the heavens, she was so close to perfection now, she knew it didn’t matter how loud she was, she could wake up the entire city and it wouldn’t matter one bit.
Though he could clearly hear the joy in his Night Mother’s voice, he cocked his blood-covered head, more than a little puzzled. “Three souls, Mother? But I just killed the slut and that fat slob. That’s only two.”
“Ah, right you are, boy. I bet you’re wondering where I’m going to get the third soul. Aren’t you?” She replied with a smirk. Pipsqueak simply nodded, but then he felt a sudden pain in his chest. It was so paralyzing that he could not cry out, but simply fall to his knees, clutching his chest, that was being pushed from the inside. He looked down in horror.
A large, black spike pierced through his chest, ripping his heart to pieces from the inside-out. He looked up to Nightmare Moon with tears falling from his eyes, his voice quivering. “M-Mother… Why? I… Thought you l-loved me…”
“You thought this was love?” She howled with laughter as his soul floated from his body, and disappeared into her horn. “No, you stupid boy… This… Is pure evil! Besides, if I keep you here, you’ll just go insane anyway! I knew from the start that you were too weak to survive with that much dark matter inside of you. And, dear, I’ve been crazy for thousands of years, I should know more than anybody else that when you’re insane, reality is much worse.”
Pipsqueak could only writhe in heartbreak as his strength began to falter, he managed to stay alive just long enough to watch Nightmare Moon’s power reach it’s true potential. He reached out weakly as he watched his life essence leave his body and seep into her, her large, luminescent eyes glowing brighter than Polaris as she shrieked thunderously, and he slowly sighed as he rolled onto his back, his dying breaths allowing him a cataclysmic sight as the moon grew ten times its natural size, and the sky became awash with a dark purple haze. Armageddon was here, and he wouldn’t be alive to live through it. Tears washed the blood from his cheeks as he turned his head to his guilty, murderous hands. He fell limp as the last of his soul left from his once bright and lively eyes, and they closed simultaneously. With the last rise and fall of his chest, he could only think to himself that he was at the end of his short, painful life, and though it was painful to be deceived by the one being in this world that he thought loved him, he submitted his hatred and a plain expression fell upon his bloodied lip, and he sat there as he died, knowing that his pain would soon be...
Nevermore.
Author's Note
Once again, a great effort by my awesome co-author, Ringmaster!
This story was so challenging and fun to write. It was truly a whole new experience attempting to write a dark/horrorfic. I hope you guys enjoyed meeting the sick and twisted parts of our minds. Like the description says, go check out Scraton/VinylScratchDjPony's YouTube Channel and iTunes. He's a real talented guy, and his songs are a great representation of the potential this fandom has to be amazing!
Once again, I hope you all enjoyed, and if you guys really liked this, maybe I'll start writing more darkfics and/or horrorfics.
Deuces, guys!