Author's Note
It's Pinkie Pie Day! It's also October, month of spooks. It seemed like a fitting time to write a spoopy story about everyone's favorite pink pony.
Lost in Luna's Light
Pinkie Pie snapped her bag closed. It was a cheap bag—belonged to Granny Pie—but Pinkie Pie loved it for the effect it gave. Image was important. You couldn’t show up with a finely pressed suit and a brand new briefcase. Maybe back in the day, but nowadays ponies wanted a bucking show. First and foremost, Pinkie wanted to give her clients what they envisioned. However, the effect was spoiled by the enthusiastic grin Pinkie insisted on wearing.
Pinkie Pie trotted up the narrow walkway, accompanied by two other Earth ponies. Closest to her was a mare with her hair tied up in a stiff bun. Her bespectacled eyes scanned the clipboard in her hoof as she walked. Having previously worked for the—cheerfully corrupt—mayor of Ponyville, Raven was used to handling numbers. But no matter how she added up the previous month’s profits, Raven honestly had no clue where the Tartarus all those lovely bits were going.
The second Earth pony trailed behind, pulling an immense cart. The cart was filled with Pinkie’s tools of the trade. The Earth pony pulling it was full of regret for his life choices. How in the name of Celestia had he gotten himself into this predicament? By existing, Troubleshoes supposed. It wasn’t even a predicament, it was just some fancy Equestrian hocus-pocus he would have rather not known about.
Pinkie bounced—literally and figuratively because it was Pinkie—to the door of the small cottage. She knocked several times, beating a tune on the door with her hooves.
Raven looked around nervously. She wasn’t too scared. Who’d be scared with a stallion like Troubleshoes around? Simply his existence was enough to turn desperate thugs into sniveling cowards. But Raven couldn’t shake her unease. The cottage was in an otherwise deserted part of Equestria. The nearest populated area was miles away.
What in Tartarus am I even thinking? Raven wondered.
“Anypony in there?” Pinkie called shrilly, continuing to knock.
Troubleshoes finally reached the two mares. He looked at the window next to the door. The blinds seemed to be drawn.
“Maybe they ain’t home,” Troubleshoes suggested hopefully.
But a minute later, Pinkie Pie finally got a response to her knocks. The door slowly creaked open a crack. A sliver of lamplight leaked out from within, piercing the gathering shadows. In the steadily fading light of Celestia’s sun, the sliver of light seemed to be pointing at the three ponies. The face of a somewhat haggard mare appeared in the crack.
“You must have the wrong address,” the mare said quietly.
Raven raised her eyebrows. That was unlikely, seeing as this was the only address.
Pinkie Pie spoke before Raven could.
“Nopey-dopey!” Pinkie Pie corrected the mare. “This is most definitely positively the right address! Can’t you feel it? They’re all around us saying “Hello”!”
Troubleshoes and Raven looked around immediately. But of course there was nothing there.
Raven stepped forward to take charge. She’d been working for Pinkie for a little under a month, but she’d already figured out the basics. She was the mouth—usually—and Pinkie Pie was the talent. Raven hastily reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a piece of paper.
“Somepony from this address wrote us this letter,” Raven explained.
Raven held out the letter to the mare, a reassuring smile on her face.
The mare did not take the letter. She merely nodded, as trusting as a Ponyville citizen come election season. She opened the door wider. She still wasn’t smiling. As a matter of fact, she had so little reaction to them that Raven wondered if she was somehow related to Pinkie’s sister Maud.
“You’re just in time,” the mare told them in a monotone.
The three ponies silently trooped into the house.
The inside of the cottage was plain. It had nothing on Fluttershy’s cottage, a small abode filled with every aspect of its owner’s personality. If the inside of this cottage was to be believed, the owner had no personality. Their entire life could be summed up with a table, a small bed, an oven, a cupboard, and one landscape painting of a forest at night.
Raven glanced at the mare. She had a long gray mane that once again brought to Raven’s mind images of Maud Pie. But the eyes seemed even less alive than Maud’s. The mane was limp, as if the dull surroundings had sucked all the life from it. The eyes were a depressing gray that perfectly matched the hair. Raven noticed that the mare’s cutie mark was a teakettle.
“What a cute house!” Pinkie exclaimed. “It’s so….simple! I bet Rarity would love it!”
No, Rarity would have fainted. Even the single painting couldn’t have saved the cottage’s drab interior from Rarity’s fashion-fueled hysteria.
“My name is Loving Descent,” the mare announced. “I was the one who wrote the letter. Do you think you can help me with my problem?”
Raven glanced back to make sure Troubleshoes was still there. She trusted him not to run off, but in such an isolated place there was always that damnable sliver of worry. Fortunately, she saw at once that he was outside unpacking the cart.
“I believe we can,” Raven assured Loving Descent. “Pinkie Pie has dealt with this sort of thing before. I am happy to report that our success rate is an admirable ninety-nine percent.”
Clients loved to hear things like “ninety-nine percent” and “the best in the business”. It really got them excited.
Loving Descent showed no signs of excitement, but she nodded appreciatively.
Raven neglected to add that Pinkie Pie was not actually an exorcist. It was a wonderful misconception that pulled in new clients akin to honey pulling in flies. Why should Raven correct that occasional rich heiress willing to throw thousands of bits at them? As long as the big bad ghosty went bye-bye in the end through some means, said rich heiress didn’t give two shakes of a pig’s tail.
Troubleshoes was unloading the cart and bringing its contents into the cottage. He was reluctant to handle Pinkie’s beloved crystal ball, but he managed to bring it over the threshold without shattering it. Raven hastily relieved him of it.
“The price we agreed in my reply…,” Raven began.
Raven paused pointedly.
Loving Descent eyed Raven indifferently.
“You’ll get the full payment once your job is done,” Loving Descent informed her.
Raven put on her usual fake smile. She absolutely hated clients who refused to pay up front. It might have been a trust thing, but it annoyed her. Raven liked to have the bits in her hooves beforehand just in case things went south. It hadn’t happened yet, but better paid than sorry.
Troubleshoes finished bringing everything into the cottage. Other than dropping the box of candles, things went smoothly. He left the actual arranging to Raven. Raven had told him that one needed to be “especially attuned to the silent song of the world” in order to get the arrangements right. But Troubleshoes knew she was merely afraid of him dropping Pinkie’s crystal ball.
Raven draped a jet black tablecloth over the table. Specially made and soft as a foal’s flank. A special order from Maretonia that had eaten half of a previous month’s profit. Once the tablecloth was in place, Raven placed the crystal ball in the center of the table. She arranged a series of unlit candles around the edges of the table.
Pinkie was examining the cottage’s sole painting. She tilted her head as she stared at it. The initials “S.K.” were printed neatly at the lower right edge of the painting.
“Do you like it?” asked Loving Descent.
Pinkie didn’t jump, even though Loving Descent had snuck up behind her.
“It’s pretty!” Pinkie answered.
Loving Descent nodded, her gaze on the painting. For the first time, she smiled. The expression looked entirely out of place on her face. It was as if she merely slipped on a mask for those few seconds, then discarded it abruptly.
Raven waved Pinkie over to the table.
“We’re ready to begin!” Raven announced.
Pinkie’s eyes lit up. She tore her gaze from the painting and turned excitedly to the table. It was laid out as usual, the candles lit. The sight was a bit ominous, but Pinkie bounded to the table as if it was filled with pastries. She took her place at the head of the table and happily accepted the veil Raven offered her.
Troubleshoes reluctantly took a place at the table. This was his least favorite part of the job. Yet Pinkie insisted he be a part of it. Something about “strengthening the circle”.
Raven stood beside Troubleshoes. She had blown out all of the lamps in the cabin, leaving only the candles for illumination. The entire setting was eerie to a whole new degree in her opinion. But Raven remained serene. She gave Pinkie an encouraging nod.
Loving Descent was standing at the opposite end of the table facing Pinkie. The glow of the candles made her indifferent expression appear rather disconcerting.
“Shall we begin?” Raven asked.
The question brought nods from everypony at the table. Pinkie had gone silent, her eyes focused on the glowing crystal ball.
“Everypony place your hooves on the table,” Raven ordered.
Four pairs of hooves fell under the glow of the crystal ball as they were placed on the jet black tablecloth. The material felt as soft as it looked.
Pinkie Pie pulled the veil over her face. In the semi-darkness, it almost looked as if her face disappeared entirely. She too placed her hooves on the table. Although it wasn’t obvious due to the darkness and the veil, Pinkie Pie was smiling at the crystal ball.
“Madame Pinkie shall now begin!” Pinkie Pie announced.
The voice that came out of her was more lower-pitched than normal. Pinkie sounded calm and professional, two words her friends would have found an ironic description. But then again, this was not Pinkie. This was Madame Pinkie, famed spirit medium and fortuneteller. They were essentially two different ponies.
“I sense a spirit in this house,” Pinkie informed the small gathering. “Yes….I can feel it…. Its presence is very strong...almost desperate...”
Raven felt nothing, but that didn’t concern her. She glanced at Loving Descent. She was relieved to see that Loving’s attention appeared to be captured. Excellent. Once the client was hooked, it was all uphill from there.
“They wish to speak,” Pinkie continued. “Yes, they are begging to speak. I can hear them. They seem to be...crying? Laughing? They wish to tell us something...”
Pinkie’s head drooped as if she’d fainted. The veil seemed to melt into the tablecloth in the meager light. Pinkie was motionless for two entire minutes. Although her head drooped, her ears stood straight up as if attune to every sound. A light breeze from somewhere teased the candles, but did not blow them out. Eventually, Pinkie raised her head with a jolt. Slowly, she reached up and removed the veil from her face.
A shudder scampered across Raven’s fur. Pinkie was a little too convincing for her liking. The way her eyes stared straight ahead, blank as if somepony had sucked out her soul, made Raven anxious. She knew it was absurd, but she saw something in those eyes. A vast nothingness, as if Pinkie was staring into the mouth of the world’s longest tunnel.
“Yes…,” Pinkie whispered. “I think….this time...”
Pinkie’s head drooped again. Her eyes remained open, staring at the tablecloth. Pinkie’s mouth worked as if she was speaking, yet no words came out. She gazed at the tablecloth in the manner of one reading a novel, her mouth shaping words. Steadily, her mouthing escalated to a barely audible whisper. Then to a slightly louder whisper. And finally, after many moments of this, her words became clear.
“Lost in Luna’s light,” Pinkie was saying. “Lost in Luna’s light. Lost in Luna’s light. Cold cold cold cold….”
Pinkie slowly raised her face, continuing to speak. The words came out rapidly, almost with a touch of desperation. Even as her mouth worked furiously, her eyes remained blank.
“Cold cold cold cold cold….,” Pinkie continued.
Pinkie’s head snapped upward to stare at the ceiling. The motion was so abrupt that the other ponies at the table collectively jumped.
“Burning….until….,” Pinkie whispered.
Pinkie slowly lowered her gaze. Her head moved back to its regular position, her eyes focused straight ahead. A grin slowly spread across her face. It wasn’t the usual type of “Pinkie smile” Raven and Troubleshoes had come to love. The edges of Pinkie’s mouth twitched violently, as if uncharacteristically rejecting the happy thoughts being forced upon her. Her eyes remained completely blank, even as the grin stretched into proportions only Pinkie Pie could manage.
“Burning….burning….,” Pinkie uttered in a frantic whisper. “Burning…. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel my LOVE?”
At the word “love”, Pinkie’s gaze darted to Loving Descent.
Loving Descent’s indifference seemed to have melted. She stared at the pink mare, her eyes filled with terror. A deep, primal sense of dread appeared to have overtaken her. She was frozen, being pulled deeper and deeper into Pinkie’s blank stare. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to scream.
“Burning...burning...burning….,” Pinkie chanted, staring at Loving Descent. “Burning...burning...”
Pinkie’s voice had taken on a cheerful, almost childish and giddy tone.
Raven put her hoof on the table and opened her mouth. But words failed her.
Even though Raven hadn’t spoken, Pinkie’s eyes went to her at once. In the meager light provided by the candles, Raven could have sworn Pinkie’s eyes looked different. They looked as if somepony had pulled back the veil and exposed not only insanity, but also hatred and anger. Pinkie did not speak. But she kept her gaze trained on Raven for a full minute, her already too-wide grin appearing to widen even further. Then Pinkie turned her stare back to Loving Descent.
“You still wanna be friends, right?” Pinkie asked in an innocent tone.
What burst from Loving Descent’s throat wasn’t a scream. It sounded more like the wail of a cornered animal. Loving Descent backed away from the table, her eyes fixed on the pink mare.
“N-No,” Loving Descent stammered. “I don’t want to be your friend! I never want to be your friend! Leave me alone!”
Pinkie didn’t move. She continued to stare, her head tilted to one side.
“You still wanna be friends, right?” Pinkie repeated in that same innocent tone.
Loving Descent burst into tears. She dropped to the floor, covering her face with her hooves. She lay there in a pathetic pile, trembling and whimpering between her sobs. Loving Descent could feel Pinkie’s penetrating gaze on her. She could feel satisfaction in that gaze.
Raven ran to Loving Descent’s side. She dropped down beside the distressed pony, murmuring soothing nonsense. But she too was quivering. Raven could not look at Pinkie Pie. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. And for once, Raven had no idea how to deal with it.
“We can burn together,” Pinkie announced cheerfully. “We can burn in the light of Celestia’s sun.”
Loving Descent sprang away from Raven with a cry. She seemed desperate to get as far away from Pinkie Pie as she could, but the cottage was simply too small. Loving Descent was forced to curl up in a nearby corner, pushing herself against the wood as if trying to fuse with it.
Pinkie Pie finally moved. She took a single, measured step towards Loving Descent. Her once blank eyes filled with glee as Loving Descent whimpered. She took another step. The grin seemed to be straining the confines of her face, but somehow it widened again. Pinkie took yet another step. Her expression began changing rapidly. It flashed between excitement and fear, as if the two emotions were battling under the surface.
Fear seemed to be gripping Troubleshoes around the neck. But one glance from Pinkie’s face to Loving Descent’s told him this was no time to be a coward. Troubleshoes galloped forward and seized Pinkie Pie by her mane. He was hoping the combination of pain and objection would snap her out of whatever trance she was in.
Pinkie only hesitated for a second. She craned her neck back at an impossible angle to stare at Troubleshoes. Her expression was inquisitive, rather than angry. She then turned her gaze back to Loving Descent. Pinkie Pie attempted to take a step forward, but of course Troubleshoes’s grip on her mane proved itself an obstacle.
“No,” Pinkie whispered.
It wasn’t a protest. There was no frustration or pain behind that two-letter word. Pinkie spoke almost with excitement. She again craned her neck at an impossible angle to stare at Troubleshoes. But this time there appeared to be something occupying the space where Pinkie’s face should have been. At first Troubleshoes saw only Pinkie’s grin and her gleeful eyes. But then he blinked and there was somepony else. The mane was disheveled. The eyes were green, not blue. The fur was a dark lavender, not pink. And she was not smiling. She was baring her teeth in a snarl, her eyes filled with cardinal rage.
The sight was enough to make Troubleshoes let go of Pinkie’s mane. He backed away from her, quivering. When he blinked again, she returned to her usual self. But the image of the pony...no, the thing...that had seemed to briefly stand in her place was burned into his memory. Troubleshoes had never seen a face so twisted, so full of madness, grief, and animosity.
Pinkie continued her slow walk towards Loving Descent.
Loving Descent looked up as Pinkie approached. She seemed to have passed her initial panic phase. She had moved onto being eerily calm. Loving Descent surveyed Pinkie as if she was an interesting, but altogether useless specimen. There was still a bit of fear in her eyes, but her usual indifference was slowly regaining dominance.
“I’ll never be your friend,” Loving Descent repeated serenely.
Pinkie finally stood in front of Loving Descent. The grin had at last left her face. Its replacement was an expression of anger. She leaned forward, putting her face close to Loving Descent’s. Pinkie’s face appeared to twitch, the features continuously reshaping themselves. But that was probably a trick of the meager light again.
“You still wanna be friends, right?” Pinkie said yet again.
There was mockery in the question. Revulsion almost.
Pinkie Pie seized Loving Descent by the neck. She pressed the other mare against the wall, her eyes aglow with triumph. At first, it looked as if she was trying to strangle her. Her hooves were pressing into Loving Descent’s neck hard enough to leave bruises.
Raven screamed when she realized what was really happening. It was an image that would work its way into many a future nightmare.
Pinkie was somehow pressing Loving Descent into the wall. The wood seemed to flow, yet at the same time appeared to be shifting and growing around the unfortunate mare. Something black and viscous was seeping from the wood. It poured over the two mares akin to a thick syrup, flowing down the top of Loving Descent’s head and dripping from the edge of her muzzle. Loving Descent opened her mouth as if to finally scream, but then gagged as the black liquid filled her mouth. It tasted and smelled like blood. Blood and dirt.
Raven wanted to do something. Anything. But the room seemed to be shrinking around her as her horror grew. She did not want to touch that liquid dripping from the wall. She stood there, frozen and helpless as the inexplicable scene unfolded.
The last thing seen of Loving Descent were her eyes, wide and frightened. She gave one last muffled protest, then the wood shuddered and flowed across her eyes. Loving Descent went silent immediately. The outline of her figure poked out from the wood akin to a boil poking through fur.
Pinkie stepped back from the wall. She stood staring at her handiwork for a minute, a satisfied grin on her face. She then turned to Troubleshoes. She surveyed the frozen stallion, her grin turning sadistic. Pinkie took a step towards him. But before she could so much as open her mouth, the pink mare collapsed.
Troubleshoes and Raven abruptly found they could move. Troubleshoes immediately darted to Pinkie Pie’s side, shouting in panic.
Raven bypassed the two of them completely. She galloped past them and stood before the space on the wall that had once been Loving Descent. Choking back sobs, Raven slowly reached out a hoof to touch the wood-covered figure stuck in the wall. It seemed to pulse underneath her hoof, similar to a heartbeat. But in a second, it felt like nothing less than normal wood. Raven rubbed her hoof over it as if feeling for an opening.
“Miss Pie fainted!” Troubleshoes announced. “We gotta get her out of here!”
But in a second, Raven too had fainted.
Pinkie Pie woke up before Raven. She awakened groaning, a headache to rival the after effects of her worst sugar rush pounding in her skull. She was lying on her back, hooves pointing at the sky. The night sky, to be specific. Pinkie realized that she was outside and, even more surprising, she seemed to be in a cart. She rolled over and saw another mare lying next to her.
“What a weird place to take a nap,” Pinkie pondered aloud. “I must have had a lot of sarsaparilla last night!”
Pinkie poked her head out of the cart. She was pleased to see that it was being pulled by none other than her good friend Troubleshoes. Hadn’t she gone somewhere with him and Raven? She didn’t remember. But then again, she scarcely remembered her own name after a bad sugar rush.
“Hiya Troubleshoes!” Pinkie greeted the stallion. “Where we going? Somewhere fun?”
Troubleshoes nearly halted at Pinkie’s voice. Even though she was speaking in her usual tone, the sound of it sent a shiver down his spine.
“We’re going home, Miss Pie,” Troubleshoes told her stiffly. “That alright with you?”
Pinkie pouted for a moment, but her smile eventually returned. She waved a careless hoof at the large stallion.
“Okey-dokey-lokey!” Pinkie answered.
Pinkie curled up on the floor of the cart with a yawn. She felt unusually exhausted. Her body was known for its seemingly endless energy supply, but at the moment all she wanted to do was sleep. However, oddly enough, Pinkie was certain she’d been having a nightmare just moments ago. Shrugging off the feeling, Pinkie closed her eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.
Troubleshoes breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad Pinkie hadn’t asked any questions. Even now he wasn’t sure what in Tartarus he had been apart of. All he knew was that Appleloosa was calling to him. No more spirit-fueled adventures for him. Although it was unlikely he was ever going to forget that cottage and its one occupant.
I reckon there was more than one pony living there, Troubleshoes thought with another shudder.
Troubleshoes’s mind flashed back to the cottage yet again. To the last thing he had seen before it disappeared from sight. Or at least what he thought he had seen. He couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a hallucination.
Troubleshoes had seen a figure. A small figure, most likely a mare. He couldn’t make out any of her features. This was partially due to the distance. But the figure had also been covered in something. Something thick and black, like tar. It had eased its body along the ground akin to a slug, leaving a trail of black fluid behind it. Its mouth seemed to have been open in a silent shriek. And then a larger figure appeared in the doorway of the cottage. Another mare, Troubleshoes had thought. The other mare had stared at the pathetic crawling figure for a moment. Then it had moved forward faster than Troubleshoes thought was possible. It had taken hold of the crawling figure and slowly dragged it back into the cottage.
Clearly some kind of hallucination. A waking dream. A trick of the light. Yes, that was all it was. Just a trick of the light.
Troubleshoes gritted his teeth and started trotting a little faster. They were going to be home soon. And Pinkie Pie need never know about that solitary cottage. This was Troubleshoes's dearest wish. That Pinkie Pie never know.
