Black Ghosts

The sky was black - no moon or stars. But even so, the world around was illuminated as if the sun was out. She saw on a grassy knoll, listening to the birds and the bugs as they made conversation with each-other. She could see, far off in the distance, the outlines of a line of craggy mountains rising into the sky like dark monoliths. A small, dingy river lazily flowed towards her, curving around the various hills smoothly. As her eyes followed it on its path, she noticed the flow. It was too slow to be water, and too dark. Sludge. Black sludge.

Then the chattering creatures fell silent. The sky turned from black to a bloody crimson, tinged with orange. The river was alight. The prairie was burning. She was burning. She desperately tried to scream, but no sound emerged save for the crackling of flesh. Twilight.

She could smell sulfur and meat in the air. Twilight.

There was only fire. Twilight.

Twilight, wake up.

Twilight Sparkle's eyes shot open.

The sheriff was there to meet the pair as they stepped off of the train. Looking at her, Twilight began to think about how it was no wonder that the local law enforcement was hopeless.

Her multicolored mane was messy from the wind, the vest she wore dirty from the dust. Her badge could clearly be seen on her chest - a dim, unpolished gold-colored star imprinted with the fading words MARSHALL.

The mayor's office was an island of paradise in a sea of discomfort. Had they not only just walked in from the deathly heat outside, Twilight might have believed that she was back east. Various plants sat in pots lines along the walls, leading in parallel lines to the mayors desk - a intricately ornate desk of mahogany.

On a side table a brass phonograph sat spinning a black record. Sweet music flowed forth.

It's a long way from home, my dear

And a long way to go

But as long as we're together

We may as well not know

The mayor herself seemed a child sitting behind.

"I'm glad that your organization was so quick to respond to our calls for aid."

"One of our agents may be dead. We aren't here to aid your little pet project, we're here to recover one of our own."

"Don't you come to me with that shit. I told her, dammit. I told her good. Policing this town is an art. A damn art. Step out of line and you might end up at the bottom of a ditch, like the Marshall before me and the Marshall before him. She din't listen to me, no matter how much I tried to reason. She's missing by fault of her own."

"Awwright, here's what we got for ya." Sheriff Dash pushed the folder across the desk.

"The Co-op is everything in this town outside of the wells. The Apples own the place, just like they own the wells. They control the town and the land for miles around by controlling the farmers. Anypony that tries to start up their own little business ends up missing, just like your agent."

She was sitting on a patch of dirt in the center of a circle of fire. The blaze crackled as she watched. Just beyond the light, she could see them - figures moving about. Then the chanting started, softly at first, but growing louder with every second.

The language of the undulations was unintelligible to Twilight, but the very sound left her frozen. She was afraid.