Pinkie's Coming For You

by Journeyman

Rating: mature
Tags: Horror, Equestria Girls, Pinkie Pie, Sex, Sunset Shimmer, Crossover, Alternate Universe, Sad, Main 6
Length: 12822

There are three rules: Don't say her name, don't turn off the lights, and don't fall asleep.

Death is always a terrible thing, but when Sunset hears rumors that many losses in recent years may be linked to an old urban legend involving the death of a girl named Pinkie, she can't help but investigate. Her friends don't think she should tempt fate.

But Pinkie approves. Belief only makes her stronger.

Part of the Monsterverse
Interested in earning a free commission from me? Check this out.
Crossover with: Candyman
TAGS
Chapter 1: Moderate sexual situations, dirty talk, and groping
Chapter 2: Lesbian discovery, first kiss, groping, TRIGGER WARNING, graphic scene of child abuse

Published 2016-10-24 19:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-16 20:22:32 UTC

Say My Name

The pair of them giggled as they separated. Amethyst Star’s mattress sagged under her own weight and that of her boyfriend’s, Brawly Beats. His hands were currently clenched around around her smooth rear and squeezed, giving her another playful giggle. She pushed him onto his back and dove in for another quick kiss.

“That was the last one!” she cried halfheartedly as he slid a hand between her legs. “Let me finish getting dressed already!”

Brawly pulled her in for one more peck and slapped her bum. She groaned and her cheeks colored, but he obeyed and released his grasp.

“You know where my shirt is?” her boyfriend asked, an eye on her as she shimmied into her pants. There was something special about a girl trying to squeeze into a pair of jeans one size too small.

“I threw it over there.” She pointed to a chair piled with books and other random crap she was meaning to put away. Eventually. She had other things on her mind for the night after mom told her she’d be coming home late. Getting rid of the smell of sex would only take some open windows and some air freshener. The fall night was cold, but a little private time with her boyfriend was worth a little rule breaking and a chilly room.

Brawly gathered his own clothes, his normal band attire and shoes, and lay down on her bed. At first she thought he was lax about everything if that was his casual dress, but apparently chivalry apparently wasn’t dead if it was accompanied by a blooming lily and an acoustic guitar serenade when asking a girl out on a first date.

“You gonna stop looking at my butt?”

He plopped onto her bed and put his hands behind his head. He was bigger than most boys at school, but still had a slim face framed by his turquoise hair.

“Not until I can think of a reason not to.”

She finished pulling her shirt on and straddled his waist. She felt the tingle in her loins nudging her to continue their recent lovemaking, but that time had unfortunately passed. She ran her fingers across his chest, reveling in the feeling under her fingers.

“Mom’s got a little less than an hour to get back. Got some time to kill...”

Brawly smiled and slid a hand up her pink thigh. She batted his hand away.

“Later!”

“Aw...”

“...And I’m a little sore.”

He pouted. “Then as a gentlemen, I shall abstain.”

She curled up next to him and became the little spoon as he wrapped a comforting arm around her. She’d love to just have him over for the night, but because mom had tomorrow off, sneaking him out in the morning would be exponentially more difficult, especially considering mom didn’t approve of sex while still in high school. She’d be grounded forever if her dirty little secret was ever discovered.

Well, onto more pleasant thoughts.

“What are you doing for Halloween?” The holiday was still a fortnight away, but the entire town was already inundated with yard ornaments, pumpkins, and streamers.

“Heh. Me and the boys will be playing down at the park. We’ve got the date booked and everything. Ringo’s even got some cider and spices from the orchard. Flash got one of those electric heaters to stay warm; it’ll be awesome. What’re you doing?”

“Weeeeell, Paisley and Lavender Lace got an extra ticket Dia de los Muertos mansion party.”

“No way! How did they get even one! It’s invite only!” She could only snigger as he became starry-eyed. “Cash bar, live band, forty thousand square foot mansion, executive lounge—”

“And I remind you the three of us are all underage, so no drinking, and certainly no sneaking my friends into the lounge for some girl on girl action.”

She felt something throb against her thigh.

“My my, is my boyfriend jealous?” The dumb deer-caught-in-a-headlight look was priceless. A snort quickly turned into a giggling conniption and she elbowed him in the ribs. “I’ve got eye only for you. But...”

She leaned up and held her lips just a hair from his own.

“I can bring up certain “possibilities” to them while we’re there. See if one of them wants to come back for the park show and stay for a little encore with you and me.”

“You... you would...” he said with the reverent, boyish hope only a horny teen could conjure.

She pecked his cheek. “Just a thought. We’ll see what happens when it happens. Onto less blue balling things,” he cracked a smile at that, “I’ve narrowed down my costume to either Harley Quinn or the Crow. I can’t decide which one.”

“Um...”

“Yes, I’m serious about asking them. Now which one do you think is better?”

He gave a nervous chuckle and readjusted his pants. “Isn’t the Crow a dude?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be a sexy Crow, like that time Thunderbass dressed in drag last year. Harley’s always a ringer and she’s pretty cool, but you always see people dressed like her and I thought some creepy genderbending would be fun.”

“You could always go for some local legend like that Pinkamena girl. I don’t see much of her.”

Amethyst shivered.

“No way. Paisley’s already going as Pinkamena, and to me, dressing up as some actual murdered person just feels... wrong. With movies like the Crow or Pumpkinhead, I know they’re not real people that died. They’re movie characters. An actual dead girl is...” She rubbed her skin to get rid of the creeps running down her back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He held his hands up defensively. “I get it. No Pinkie.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Paisley got in her face early after she and Lavender Lace wouldn’t make a Pinkamena trio. Lavender already had a costume picked out, but to her it was like dressing in someone else’s skin.

“Sorry. Paisley kinda jumped on me last week about it.”

“It’s fine. I get it. And if you want me to choose, I think you’d look great as Harley.”

She smiled and gave him another peck. “Or just great on my knees as Harley?”

“Oh, don’t tease when I’ve got to go soon.”

“Then here’s a little something to tide you over until next time.”

She got off the bed and took off her pants. He just sat their popping a stiff one as she pulled off her underwear and tossed at him. Stunned as he was, he didn’t do anything as her fragrant panties flopped onto his chest.

“Maybe you’ll see another pair on Halloween,” she alluded with a wicked smile. “Now I got to freshen up a little. You come too. We are both starting to stink.”

Sex was a fun albeit messy task, and Amethyst had become a proponent of if it wasn’t messy, it wasn’t good. She tossed her bedroom windows open and led Brawly by the hand to the bathroom. It would take a little more than a hand wash and a brush to her violet locks to make her presentable and stop smelling, but it was all a part of the ritual as her boyfriend departed. Forty minutes left, but there was a chance mom would come home a little early. Better safe than sorry, and Amethyst knew Brawly would be too busy thinking with his dick to argue.

He bumped his hips with her own as he washed his hands and put on some deodorant. She felt the childish urge to make faces in the mirror.

“You know, speaking of Pinkamena, we are in front of a mirror,” he said.

He looked down to her. He always like to rub it in that she was a good three inches shorter than him. He looked her through the mirror.

“Pinkamena.”

His voice was strong, but hers was a breathless whisper as they said her name. Dressing up as her was one thing, but fulfilling the old legend to call the ghost was different.

“Pinkamena.”

She set her handwash down. She could hear her thumping heartbeat.

“Pinkamena.”

Five times in the mirror was all it took should the legend prove true.

“Pinkamena.”

One more. She tried to take a breath that just didn’t want to come, the tension that sprung from nothing smothered the small bathroom in a blanket.

“Pinkamena.”

A beat.

Two.

Three.

“Almost makes me wish something would happen,” Brawly sighed.

“Don’t tempt fate.” One last kiss for the road. She was always affectionate after sex. “Your bike’s in the garage, phone’s on the table. C’mon. I need to shower and you need to scram.”

A squeeze goodbye and he was out the bathroom. She heard his steps back to her room where he’d set his phone earlier that night and undoubtedly pick up her panties. She grinned to herself as she undressed for a shower. Getting dressed and then undressed was a little bothersome, but it helped send the message that their fun time was over. Hormonal lust was one thing, but fear of parental wrath was another.

“By chance are you and the band dressing up?” she called out.

“Nah,” he shouted back. “Just our usual band gettup.”

She heard knocking on glass.

‘Shit, is mom here early? Did she lose her keys?’

“Brawly, are you closing the windows in my room? It’s either that, or mom’s downstairs,” she said softer, hoping that her voice wouldn’t carry outside.

Amethyst heard scrambling, a little swearing, and then nothing. Her heart leapt into her chest. She would be grounded until the heat death of the universe if mom caught Brawly with her panties sticking out of his pocket.

“It’s nothing,” he called back. “No lights, no engine running, nothing. No one’s here but us. Girl, I damn near shit myself.”

“You’re not the only one.”

She sighed in relief. The hand to her chest felt the little thump of her once fearful heart. She heard Brawly go downstairs and raid the fridge.

“Back on topic, I know of a few things I’d like to see you in. I’ve had my eye on a fireman getup, a sailor, a cop. Maybe the police officer can arrest naughty Harley when the night’s done and give her a spanking for being a bad girl?”

She could almost hear him scrambling for words. Good thing he didn’t have a milk carton in his hands or something; poor dear was endlessly fun to tease.

“Like... cosplay? Roleplay?”

“Uh huh.”

“I... would like that.”

Her hand went into her mouth to stop another fit of giggles.

“Didn’t know you had the fetish.”

“Neither did I.”

She heard knocking again.

It was coming from the mirror.

Author's Note

Feel free to join Journeyman at his next tavern stop.

Broken Laughter

Author's Note

WARNING

This chapter contains scenes unsuitable for some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

Broken Laughter

School was always a drag to Sunset, at least the human version was. Back in the pony world, school was always focused on more practical aspects of daily lives. Manehatten provided classes for doing taxes, job searching, and managing finances. More rural schools tended to have more hands-on classes like construction, agriculture, and electrical engineering to help them fill roles that the urban sprawl lacked.

Trigonometry and calculus? Pfft, she was practiced in both before her age was in the double digits. The old motorbike she rode to school every day? She managed to repair it herself. Why were there so many classes required to graduate that she’d never use and had no practical application? There was nothing about voting, current events, laws, or something as simple as financial advice. Human high school was a joke.

Sunset turned her motorbike into the school parking lot, parked, and took off her helmet. Ten minutes early. Old man Cranky’s history class was her first subject every monday, and even though she sighed at having to deal with the cantankerous professor, his class was useful in a utilitarian sense in that she didn’t grow up in this world.

Lunch period was what she was looking forward to every day. Her four friends—five now that Twilight transferred—had their own personal table; most cliques, even the Rainbooms, had a special table they sat at every single time. Sunset had began scanning the crowd the moment she entered the room. The crowd was normally one for talk that felt like average background noise to Sunset. Now it was something else, hushed and pondering.

Twilight was getting along fine at her new school. It was a real pain trying to reference her or the princess, and the one time they were both in the same room together, the parroting was almost enough to give Sunset a migraine. Rainbow Dash was in an avid conversation with Applejack about some returning power metal legend named Nightmare Moon. Twilight, Rarity, and Fluttershy didn’t come to lunch for another fifteen minutes.

“You’d find more cheer in a graveyard. What is with everyone today?”

Her friends all looked up as she sat down and took a bite of her cookie. Applejack was the first to speak.

“Really? You ain’t heard?”

“Applejack, I live in a tiny one-room apartment with no TV and internet only because one of my neighbors doesn’t password protect his wifi.”

“Right, fine.” Applejack held up her hands.

“There’s been a murder,” Rainbow Dash whispered conspiratorially.

“Wait, what? When? How? Who?”

“And you’re only missing ‘where’. Brawly Beats, Flash’s drummer, got arrested for killing his girlfriend over the weekend.”

Dash filched out her phone, pulled up a police report, and handed it over to Sunset. Her eyes scanned it quickly as Dash provided her usual color commentary.

“They roped off the entire place. Neighbors called the cops when they heard screaming, but good who knows whether that was because Brawly cut Amethyst to ribbons or her mom coming home and beating the shit out of him.”

“Dash, easy! The gal died!”

“This doesn’t make much sense,” Sunset said as she read through it a second time. “I met Brawly before. I didn’t know him all that well, but he was an alright guy. Even if he wasn’t, why would he stay there after doing... that.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. Everyone knew he was sweet on her. She was no Catholic school girl herself, and he was every rocker dude stereotype ever, but they loved each other,” Dash said.

Blood on the walls and ceiling, multiple stab wounds... Sweet Celestia, the police had to collect not Amethyst’s body, but her pieces. What kind of sick person does that? She knew people were capable of terrible things; she didn’t have to look any further than herself. Even looking past the brainwashing, she had done her fair bit of thievery in her life, before and after her trip to the human world. This... this wasn’t just murder, it was butchery.

“Heh, Sunny?” Sunset looked to Applejack. “Got a question fer ya. There any ghosts in yer world?”

Plenty. “Yes, revenants are corpses with a spirit thrust back into them, wraiths are an uncommon problem in old crypts, and you have your standard spirit hauntings.”

“What kind kind of horror story is Equestria when a haunting can be described as “standard”?” Dash asked.

Sunset ignored her and replied to Applejack “Why do you ask?”

Applejack readjusted her hat and leaned in close. “There’s been talk. Lotsa people don’t think Brawly killed Amethyst.”

“They think it’s a ghost,” Sunset concluded.

“Yeah, but not just any ghost,” Dash added.

Sunset looked at her questioningly. She had never heard of any paranormal activity in Canterlot, or anywhere in this world. There were legends and myths, but Susnet had always ascribed them as just that. Could something else have slipped through the cracks from her world?

“You heard of the Smiler? Pinkamena?” Applejack asked quietly.

“No,” Sunset said. “Never seen her.”

“She ain’t no student or person, if that’s what yer thinkin’. Stories say she killed her lover and hanged herself. She rose from the dead and’s been lookin’ fer lovers to kill ever since. If there’s a guy or gal that ever wronged ya, it’s said you can call her by saying her name five times in the mirror.”

“I heard a couple different versions,” Dash added. “First one was Smiler was killed by her family and wanders the world. You’re supposed to close your eyes if you ever see her because she kills anyone who sees her fucked up face. The other one is kinda like Applejack’s. She was cursed by a witch long ago and has been trapped in a mirror ever since. She kills people when she tries to get out.”

“...I can honestly say I have never heard anything about her in my life.”

One of the first things she had done upon entering the world was a research binge, and that included occult and religious symbolism. Her memory wasn’t as good as Princess Twilight’s, but it was strong enough that she could say for sure she never heard such a legend in her life.

“It’s a local legend,” Dash said. She gave the stink eye of a band member that stopped to listen and he quickly wandered off. “The stories disappear ever so often, but once in awhile something like this happens and the old stories come back like a brick to the face.”

The hushed stories told behind hands and in whispers, the side glances, and the nervousness when eyes drew upon her visage? The school had developed a healthy fear of magic. The police didn’t suspect magic or the occult in this case. She didn’t hear word from Princess Twilight or the principal. This didn’t have the tenor of something from her side of the veil.

And yet this world’s Twilight caused a massive problem based on what was already here. No outward magical signs was not a guarantee that this wasn’t a crime with magical origins. A spirit that kills, possibly through mirrors? The police report did say that what was... left of Amethyst... was scooped out of the bathroom and her blood was smeared across the mirror.

Canterlot High School had two sets of bathrooms, and the boy’s bathroom buried deep in the building’s bowels was indeed missing a mirror. No one ever wanted to go in that bathroom unless truly desperate. Sunset went in just out of curiosity once. It was a normal bathroom and there wasn’t enough in the budget to replace one lousy mirror. So what?

Sunset had heard of an old story that a boy was pulled through that very mirror. The best Sunset could find was a story circling the teacher’s lounge that a boy had an accident before she came to school, slipped, and smashed his head against the floor. Lots of blood and needing a hospital visit, but hardly something magical or occult.

Perhaps there was something involved. It never hurt to be careful. The missing mirror could just be mass hysteria helping to localize an urban legend, but many myths started with some grain of truth. A monster was not out of the realm of possibility, especially with this town’s history. It was too early to come to a conclusion. Research must come first.

Sunset’s first month in the human world decided her favorite place very quickly: the library.

“I wonder how the princess will react when she finally figures out how to use the internet?”

Likely cream her panties. The funnier reaction would be showing her the sites that were blocked by the school’s firewall. Regardless, when Sunset wanted to do her research, her first stop was always the library, not the computer. For one, at least there was a little more to the vetting process for books due to the cost of publishing. Any loser could publish anything on the internet and call it truth.

She had pulled out several stacks of books discussing topic ranging from ghosts, wights, and ghouls to more expansive topics like myths, folklore, and legends. It was after school, so she’d thankfully not be bothered. Students in this world preferred to take their work home and study there rather than stick to the library. It made no difference to her despite the school closing shortly afterwards.

“Wiht, or more commonly referred to as a wight, is a term reserved for a once-living creature that now walks the waking realm. Huh.” Sunset checked the thickness of the book. It had to be over five hundred pages. “One sentence. That’s it?”

She tossed it aside. She had a love of knowledge, but unlike the princess, no patience when it wasn’t useful. She turned to the next book. It was a historic retelling of ghosts and popular myths concerning them from around the world. This one only dealt with ghosts, but it was well over twice the length of the previous book.

“Revenants are reanimated corpses that have returned from the grave to terrorize the living. Early French myth suggested that a witch or necromancer required the bones of an enemy or respected friend to raise a corpse. Folktales spoke of the revenant being under the command of the necromancer, while other myths spoke of them in much the same vein as classical vampires or zombies. English historian William Parvus wrote: "It would not be easy to believe that the corpses of the dead should sally (I know not by what agency) from their graves, and should wander about to the terror or destruction of the living, and again return to the tomb, which of its own accord spontaneously opened to receive them, did not frequent examples, occurring in our own times, suffice to establish this fact, to the truth of which there is abundant testimony."”

Interesting, but that didn’t seem to fit what happened to Amethyst and Brawly, let alone the ritual to say Pinkamena’s name five times.

“Maybe that’s not needed? Did the story change over time?”

True or not, hearsay colored the story after each retelling. Did five times at the mirror work as a summons or was something else a trigger? Could there be an entirely different answer due to the police overlooking a detail they thought of as insignificant? Rituals weren’t uncommon in magic. The trouble was figuring out the ritual, if there was one at all. Could it really be as simple as Brawly becoming passionate and killing his girlfriend?

Sunset pulled out a notebook and jotted down her thoughts. Next entry.

“A thoughtform, or tupla, is an object or being with roots in religious myth. Sheer mental fortitude or force of will from one or many people creates the tulpa by thought alone. Buddhist Alexandra David-Néel claimed a sufficiently advanced tulpa could become self aware and develop a mind of its own. Modern interpretations commonly depict a tulpa as a summoned or conjured being forced into existence through a castor’s will. A known progression of tulpa myth has developed into many interpretations of the internet folklore creature known as the Slender Man.”

That was something worth looking into. Applejack’s version of Pinkamena’s legend required her to call the name five times like an incantation. What if it wasn’t? What if the act itself, calling a name, could force her will onto an idea of a slasher and it came into being as a result?

This world didn’t have magic that she knew of. All magic present came from other realms, like the omniverse’s dumping ground for unneeded garbage. Another explanation was there was the chance that these murders were caused by a castoff much more violent than herself or the sirens. A phantom being that could cut a girl to ribbons without being seen by another person in the same house? That was a dead ringer for an Equestrian wraith.

“I think I’m onto something...”

“You do know you talk to yourself, right?”

Sunset nearly jumped out of her skin. Cranky Doodle was a lanky man with a stylish black hairpiece that he brushed in hopes of convincing students that it was real. Closing in on sixty, he was by far the oldest teacher in school.

“I have the perfect audience that way.”

“Might wanna look up the word conceit, kid.”

Cranky was always a grumpy bastard. Luckily, decent banter happened to be the cure.

“I’m not conceited. Conceit is a fault. I have no faults.”

That managed to make him crack a smile.

“Wanna know how I knew trouble was gonna come down on this school? Some little punk made a bed of books in the library. I get a squatter wanting to break into the building for the night, or a student messing up the place, but a bed of books? Really?”

Sunset turned her chair towards him. Talk of library, kids, and trouble? Yup, he was going to kick her out. She began, “Twilight isn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how that song and dance went. Look, I like ya, Sunny. Not a real straight shooter at times, but even I was a kid.”

“Were you fighting for the north or the south back then?”

“Shut yer face hole, Sunset.” Despite his harsh words, he was still smiling. “Thing is, I can count on one hand all the times I caught a kid in the library, the princess included. The last time I found something weird in the library, well, you know the story.”

Indeed she did. She knew how to lay bricks after that.

“Not sure why, but when things are about to go down, the library’s involved. You ain’t the type to stick around after school, and finding you in the library? Well, my knees are aching again, so my question is, what are you doing here?”

A question rather than kicking her out? Better than she hoped.

“My friends told me something during lunch and I’m doing a little research.”

“‘s what the internet’s for.”

“I prefer books.”

Cranky threw his hands up. “Hallelujah, now why don’t I believe it’s that simple?”

No point in keeping him in the dark. Most of the town knew the legend anyway.

“It’s about an urban legend localized to Canterlot. Supposedly there is a spirit of some kind that appears if you say her name five times. It’s gotten me thinking that it might be another creature from my world.”

“Pinkie.”

Sunset blinked. The change that had just overcome Cranky was so sudden and drastic, she had to repeat the way he said that word in her head just to make sure. He always sounded so aloof and grumpy, but now he felt... hollow.

“I haven’t heard her name clipped to that yet, but, yeah. I’ve been looking into the Pinkamena urban legend.”

Whether out of habit or desire, Cranky’s hand went to his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Sunset felt the craving for one of her own. She didn’t smoke all that often, but it was a good means to calm her nerves in a tight spot.

“She liked to be called Pinkie.”

What?

“Uh, Mister Doodle?”

He held up a hand, only now realizing what was in it. He put it back. “Brawly was a kid who made a mistake that’s going to haunt him for the rest of his life. But Pinkie? You got it wrong, Sunset. Pinkie was a real girl a few decades ago. I taught her myself.”

There went her burgeoning theories about tulpas and wraiths. Pinkie was a real girl? Well, if any teacher would know, it would be Cranky; he had been around the longest. She was about to get up before he held up a hand.

“Sit down, Sunset. You’re gonna want to before this is all over. I think Brawly should be jailed for what he did, but if you think there’s something else going on, at least hear everything first.”

She complied and returned to her seat. His hands drift to his pocket again, but this time he stopped himself.

“Lemme tell you a story, kid...”

Home was where the heart was, and for Pinkie, both were nestled in the valley where her family had built their house many years before she was even born. She and her sisters woke up an hour before dawn to get washed and ready for morning prayers. Afterwards was some farmwork, but that wasn’t what got her excited for the day.

It was going to be her first day at school!

Mom and dad had taught her what she needed to know, but they started talking a few months ago about stopping her homeschooling and sending her to Canterlot every weekday. She heard something about no child being left behind, but she wasn’t sure what that meant. It made daddy angry, but even he agreed eventually.

Fresh pancakes and apple butter was always the best, but even though she normally took seconds and thirds, she was just too excited to stay still this morning.

“We’re going to be late!” Maud looked ready to get back to sleep. Limestone was grumpy, but already had everything packed. Marble was the only one with her shoes on and ready to go.

Pinkie daisy chained their hands together and led her sisters out the door. It was a two mile walk to the nearest bus stop, but they had been walking more than twice that each day since they were old enough to work the farm. Limestone was grumbling under her breath, but she’d come around. Maud was almost sleepwalking.

“Just think about all the people we get to meet! Having family or neighbors over is fun, but with so many other kids in school, just think about all the games we can play and new recipes I can learn and the friends we’ll make and...”

Sure, he looked like a grumpus, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t bring her A-game at every opportunity. The balding teacher looked at his chart. and then at her.

“Looks like we got a few new students today.” He browsed the names. “Sisters?”

Time for introductions. Pinkie stood up. “My name’s Pinkamena Diane Pie, but you can call me Pinkie. That’s my sister Maud, that’s Limestone, and over there trying to pull her sweater up to hide her eyes is Marble.”

Maud was asleep and drooling on the desk. Marble was doing everything in her power to get attention of of her while Limestone just looked bored. Pinkie smoothed out the lines in her dress. She was wearing a lot more layers than the other girls in class, but it was all she had and momma wouldn’t like it if she was showing her legs or belly button. Still, some dresses the other girls wore looked really pretty.

Pinkie had no idea what home economics was going in, but even though she didn’t have it with her sisters, it turned into her most favorite thing ever. Just wait until momma found out what she learned! They practiced with cooking, sewing, family development, and household management, with later lessons talking about financial and community-related decisions. The first day was making an omelette.

“Psshaw, that’s easy!”

The teacher was a hefty woman, and even though some students made fun of her behind her back for her weight, Pinkie just saw it as a healthy appetite. Pinkie worked off a fair bit of her pudge on the farm, despite inhaling everything on her plate.

The teacher was giving instructions for an egg and cheese omelette, but Pinkie was sure she wouldn’t mind if she snuck in a little extra pepper, sage, and a dash or parmesan cheese. She was bouncing on her heels as the teacher passed by her table. Pinkie cut off a slice for her to try.

“That’s a little outside my instructions... but I give you points for ingenuity.”

“Thanks! I cook all the time at home!”

“I don’t doubt it. Feel free to think of recipes on your own, but I remind you that in class, we’re following a specific set of instructions. I’ll let it slide this time, dearie.”

The teacher moved on to another table, leaving Pinkie a full omelette to inhale. Before she could even start, a timid voice from behind her said, “Um, excuse me?”

Pinkie turned. She was a really tall girl with her red hair tied back in a ponytale.

“Hi!”

“Hi... I hate to ask, but can you spare a few pointers? I’ve never really been all that good at this sort of thing.”

Her’s was still in the pan. Pinkie’s was made to perfection, but this girl had a brown bottom on hers with some runny egg on top. Pinkie slid it onto a plate and started anew

“I know just the thing. You’ve got your heat a little high for starters, but the real trick is to get a good whisk and keep on stirring! Omelettes gotta keep on going round and round like a merry-go-round so everything gets heated by the pan...”

Pinkie didn’t see neither hide nor hair of her sisters during lunch. She hoped they didn’t get into trouble, but there wasn’t much she could do right now, especially on an empty stomach. Just about everyone got school lunches, but momma had packed her a lunch. There wasn’t anything quite like home cooking.

“Hey,” called a voice that Pinkie immediately recognized. She didn’t pride it as much as her cooking skills or fun time parties, but even she knew she had a phenomenal memory. Of the eighty six students she’d seen so far, only one girl had a scratchy voice like that.

“Hi! Lookin’ for a seat?”

The girl sat down opposite her with a tray from the lunch line. Mashed potatoes and gravy from a can, green beans, a slice of ham, a carton of milk, and a chocolate bar.

“Thanks for the save in home ec. I swear I manage to burn toast every time. I’ve all the cooking skill of a lizard.”

“I’ve been watching my mom cook for as long as I can remember. It’s easy to me.” She pointed to the tray of food. “I could make you a gourmet lunch before you have the chance to ride around the school on a unicycle.”

The girl snorted and almost did a milk spit take. “Hahaha! That’s an oddly specific analogy.”

“No, really! I even tried riding while mixing cake batter at home. Daddy made me a unicycle when I was eight.” An idea struck her. A wonderful idea. “Say, home ec assigns us partners tomorrow. Wanna be mine?”

Breathing deeply to stop her giggling, the girl slugged down the rest of her milk. “You know what? Sure.”

“Great! My name’s Pinkie!”

“A nickname? Alright. Mom gave me the nickname Blaze.”

Pinkie was so excited to tell her parents, she raced home ahead of her sisters. Two miles at a dead sprint wasn’t that much of a challenge. Limestone and Marble looked exhausted after their first day. Only Maud looked shipshape, although that might have been because she slept through a few classes.

“Mom! I made a friend!”

Mom and dad were waiting in the kitchen. Both were sitting down and watching the clock, their eyes rounding on her as she came inside.

She loved making people smile, and to do that, she needed to pick up on signs when something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Yo, Pinks.”

Blaze flicked a paper triangle football the jocks often made when using their hands and fingers for goalposts. It was also the method of choice for delivering secret notes during study hall, Pinkie’s least favorite hour of the day. Pinkie unfolded the paper.

WHAT UP? XP

Teacher wasn’t looking... She wrote a brief note, folded it up, and flicked it back.

MOM AND DAD GOT MAD AT ME FOR TALKING ABOUT YOU.

Blaze raised an eyebrow and scribbled a reply.

WHY?

Pinkie looked up. Teacher still wasn’t looking. She leaned across the aisle. “I’ll tell you after class.”

The clock seemed to tick so much slower and louder than normal. Pinkie always had trouble concentrating when she was forced to stay still and quiet. Her mind wandered, and it was made all the worse that now her mind wandered towards darker things. Blaze packed up her stuff and jogged out to meet her.

“So what’s going on?”

“...Mom and dad didn’t like me talking about you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I got that, but why? You helped me in class and asked me to be your partner. It’s not like I was talking you into doing some heroin under the bleachers.”

Pinkie shook her frizzy head. “No, you don’t get it. My family is super religious. They said...”

She clammed up. That was a bad word.

“Hmm?”

Pinkie deflated. “I don’t want to say it...”

Blaze sighed. “Alright, if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Pinkie put a hand on her arm to hold her back. She looked left, then right, waiting until the milling students made a sufficient enough bubble around the pair of them to whisper, “I was talking about how I helped you and then we started talking during lunch and I said how pretty your clothes were and...they said, ‘We don’t you corrupted by some overly liberal harlot.’ I’m sorry! They don’t mean it!”

Blaze had actually cracked a smile. Why would she do that? Her parents said something mean about her. She was sure they didn’t really mean it, but that didn’t change the fact that it had been said.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

They had reached Blaze’s locker. Pinkie’s was a couple more hallways away.

“I admit, out of all the things your parents could have called me, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“But that’s not funny!”

“I know, but in a way it kinda is. Look.” Blaze stopped filling her backpack and turned on Pinkie. “My great aunt lives in a convent. You’re overly polite, the way you dress, I’ve seen you pray in class once; I get your family is conservative and I know how to deal with it. I still want to be around you, Pinks, because you’re fun and share tips in home ec. I want to be your friend, so how about this: why don’t you tell me about your family during lunch break so I know what to do and not do?”

Even after her parents said some mean things about her, she still wanted to be partners in school? More than that: friends?

“Not sure what to say? You say yes, Pinkie.” Blaze flicked her across the nose and walked to her next class.

Pinkie didn’t like not telling her parents everything, but it still felt a little naughty and good to have a little secret. Blaze introduced her to her other friends, talked about movies and books Pinkie wasn’t allowed to see, and let her in on a few school secrets. Currently the pair of them were hiding under the stage during a pep rally. Why, Pinkie didn’t know; pep rallies sounded really fun.

“They seem awesome at first, but there is only so much repetition and dull-eyed band members I can take before I start losing my mind. Peppermint?”

Blaze stuffed a peppermint stick in Pinkie’s mouth, which she happily sucked on. Pinkie passed her a tupperware dish with a large sandwich and a hunk of fudge from home.

“I think I got diabetes looking at that.” Blaze took a bite of fudge and her eyes rolled to the back of her head in delight. “Pinks, you’ve got to be the best cook ever.”

“You really need to eat better, Blaze.”

“I would if I didn’t have to stay up until midnight to get my homework done. I’m good at history and social studies, but I suck at math and I’m only getting by in home ec with your help. As always, thanks for the assist. We really need to hang out after school sometime.” Blaze held up the sandwich in thanks and took a bite. “Oh, so good.”

Pinkie squeaked as Blaze wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.

An hour to class every day, and hour back, and seven at school. That was all the time Pinkie was ever allowed to stay in Canterlot, for her parents demanded she return home at the end of last period without fail. She always did so; her parents needed her help in the fields along with her sisters. That didn’t change the feeling of longing she felt every time she had to leave. She missed Blaze. She was her first and best friend at Canterlot High School.

She hated that the longing was accompanied by a feeling of guilt at the end of every day. Her parents were legally obligated to send her to school if they couldn't provide her educational needs themselves, and school was fun. When she was allowed, anyway. No field trips, no dances, no staying past school hours, and certainly no dating. Pinkie didn’t mind any of that despite how much it saddened her, but she hated seeing that imperious glare from her parents whenever friends came up in conversation. She wanted to have fun with her friends, but she was lying about something as simple as talking to them, especially Blaze.

The pair of them were outside during their one and only recess period. It was only fortyfive minutes, and even though Pinkie normally spent the time talking to the band or trying her hand at some sports, she felt too unhappy to do the things she loved. She sat near the door, knees under her chin.

“Sup, Pinks?”

Blaze sat down next to her and elbowed her in the ribs. Pinkie didn’t look at her.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Pinkie sniffed.

“It’s just...I’ve been lying to my parents ever since school started. They ask me every day who I talk to and what I do and I have to lie to them every time. I don’t want to lie to them anymore, but I know they’ll be angry if I say I’m still talking to you or I tried out for the band.”

“Hey, hey...” Blaze wrapped an arm around her but backed off as Pinkie winced. “What?”

“It’s nothing.” She pulled up the hem of her already modest sweater even further. Blaze was looking at her in a new light now. She got up and walked away, begging the tears to not come.

“Pinkamena?”

She turned to see the history teacher Cranky Doodle. Huh; he was wearing a wedding ring now.

“A moment?”

Pinkie wordlessly followed him inside, perfectly fine with any direction that was away from Blaze. Her parents were getting suspicious of her relationships at school. It’d be best if Blaze wasn’t there when Mister Doodle was done saying his piece. He led her into one of the empty classrooms. As he closed the door behind her, he gave her a soft pat on the back and she shrank away. His eyes narrowed.

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the desks.

“I’d rather stand, Mister Doodle.”

“Suit yourself.” He sat down at the teacher’s desk. “How do you like it here in Canterlot so far?”

“It’s fine.”

He waited a moment. She didn’t have anything else left to say.

“Have you made some friends?”

“Some.”

Again the silence. He looked at her the same way her father did when she accidentally let it slip she had tried out for band. She knew she was supposed to hold his gaze but those eyes made her wither.

Just as she looked away, he seemed to deflate. “Sorry. I’m used to slipping into teacher mode at the drop of a hat. If I am making you uncomfortable, I apologize.”

“That’s okay.” Sometimes teachers need to knuckle down on unruly students. Mister Doodle just had a shorter fuse than most.

“I’ll get right to it. I got word from the gym teacher yesterday that you skipped out. Today, too.”

Oh no, she was about to get punished. “I’m sorry, mister Doodle, I didn’t mean—”

“Kid, you may not believe it, but I was young once. I played hookey in my day, too. I get it.”

That’s good. That was better than to answer why she didn’t want to change clothes, as much as she didn’t want to keep that truth hidden.

“I’m just here to ask you one thing, Miss Pie.”

“Can you call me Pinkie?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pinkie. Sure.”

“Thank you.” Being polite was a virtue, even if you were feeling sad, mother always said. “You were saying?”

“Yes. Getting back to my point, is there anything you want to tell me?”

The cold finger of fear slid down her spine.

“No,” she said just a little too quick.

“Pinkie, I promise you nothing you say will leave this room.”

“Liar.”

It came out before she could stop it. It was the truth. She knew even suspicions had to be reported. She read that teacher book, and her memory was good enough to quote it back to him.

“How so?”

She didn’t reply. The sternness in his gaze was gone. Now he just looked sad.

He took a deep breath. “Are you having any trouble at home?”

“No. I go back every day to help on the farm and finish my homework. I can do both every day easy enough.”

She had never experienced the fight or flight response before school began. Mostly it happened at home, but now it occurred in this dingy little classroom and her feet were rooted to the floor. Every iota in her brain commanded that she run out the door.

He folded his fingers and bit the bullet. “Is there a bruise on your shoulder?”

“No!” she screamed. “Why don’t you believe me!? Everything’s fine!”

Something came up from her stomach, black and vile, spreading in her veins like poison. Rage. Bottomless, cruel rage boiled her blood. Her own fingernails dug into her palms and she swore she might have drawn blood.

She saw her own reflection in the mirror. Her once frazzled, uncontrollable mane was a mess. It wasn’t because of her outburst. No, it was unkempt and plastered to her head, matching her reddened face and bared teeth.

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. The urge to run was gone. What replaced it made her feel sick because of what things it wanted to do to Mister Doodle.

If he was flustered or caught off guard by her outburst, she missed it.

“You are right,” he said. “I am legally obligated to report any and all events that might be considered... untoward. Even if I have zero evidence to support my suspicions.”

He paused, and when she didn’t add anything, he continued, “Will you get in trouble if your parents become aware of my concerns?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He cracked. A brief flash of agony slipped across his face before it fell into his hand. What was she supposed to say?

“I don’t know what to do...” she whispered

He looked up. That pained, pitying look was still there. “Do you want some advice?”

She nodded.

“Distance yourself little by little. Do as your told without question or complaint. If you do something drastic too soon, you’ll be kicked out and have no way to support yourself, and that’s the best of the bad options. Stay low, graduate, and when you’re legally an adult, move out.”

She couldn’t move out. Their farm was large enough as it is that all four kids were needed to help run the place. Her mom and dad took state money to help support the farm and were thus bound by other legal requirements, such as education for minors like herself. Her parents hired others and asked for help where they could, but she couldn’t leave them, especially her sisters. They were family.

“Well, we weren’t here long. You still have some recess time left. A lot’s been said, so think everything over.”

Pinkie nodded. She just wanted to get out.

“If you need anything, even just a listening ear, my door’s open, Pinkie.”

She didn’t even say anything as she ran out the door.

And right into Blaze.

“Pinkie, I was—”

Pinkie could feel the waterworks coming. She couldn’t cry right now, not in front of Blaze. She shouldn’t be seeing Blaze right now.

Blaze grabbed her hand and lead her deeper into the school. Pinkie knew exactly where they were going. It was under the stage. Blaze yanked off the velcro covering and sealed it as the both snuck inside. They wouldn’t be heard with everyone outside.

“Pinkie...

The first tear slid down her face.

“Can you... hold me?”

Blaze’s hug was immediate and welcoming like a blanket that warmed her very heart. Pinkie cried into her shoulder while she rubbed her back, her hands staying away from the ugly bruise under her clothes. Pinkie wasn’t sure how long they cradled each other, but contented herself that she was in a friend's caring and unwavering embrace.

It was closing on the end of the school day, but since the social studies teacher was sick, both girls had the last hour for study hall. Blaze immediately played hookey, broke into the roof access, and dragged Pinkie along with her.

“Be grateful I am such a bad influence on you.”

Pinkie giggled. “I won’t tell as long as you won’t.”

Blaze, her hair now flowing free of her ponytail, started unpacking her bag. A small cloth for them both to sit on, a tiny radio, and some tupperware containers came pouring out.

“Care to see how well I’ve learned, sensei?” She popped open a container of spaghetti. “Sauce is store bought, but I made everything from scratch myself. My dad hunts and I asked him how to spice the meat. Took me forever to get the caraway seeds and fennel measured perfectly.”

Pinkie devoured it as only she could. “It’s great! I’d love to get your spice mix,” she said between forkfuls.

Blaze just shook her head. “Pinkie, I envy your metabolism. Only you could vacuum up everything and not get fat.”

“I totally do! It’s a sign of a healthy, growing girl!”

“You’re thin as a rail!”

“Am not!” she shot back playfully.

Blaze grinned wickedly and tackled the pink-haired girl. Her hands went to Pinkie’s gut and started tickling. “I don’t feel no bits of flab here, Pinks!”

Pinkie dropped her fork and became a laughing mess. She rolled to the side, but Blaze’s grasp was firm enough to stay attached to her friends. The dreaded tickles moved to her side, up to her armpits, and even the nape of her neck. There was no escape.

“S-s-stop!” Pinkie cried.

Blaze McTicklefingers, a perfect cowgirl name if Pinkie had any say, stopped her torment. The girl hovered over Pinkie, her crimson locks tickling her face.

She was really warm, Pinkie realized. She could feel her breath brushing across her own cheeks. Pinkie suddenly became very aware of how hard her heart was beating.

“I’ve got something for you,” Blaze said.

She dug in her bag for a little box and pried it open. It was a necklace. It wasn’t much, a simple thing really, but in that moment under the sun with her bestest and greatest friend, it was perfect. Everything was gold down to the little dangling sun hanging at the end of the chain.

“It’s beautiful,” Pinkie whispered.

Blaze flushed and bent lower, unlocking the clasp and placing it around Pinkie’s neck. She looked like she was going to pull away, but Pinkie squeaked and blushed when Blaze leaned in for a kiss.

It was over over before she even knew it. The warmth on her lips was still there, the only reminder that it wasn’t a trick of the mind.

“S-sorry,” Blaze mumbled.

She got off and allowed Pinkie to get up herself. Both didn’t dare to look the other in the eye.

“I liked it,” Pinkie confessed. She was told since birth that she’d meet a man and have a family of her own someday, but Blaze’s kiss felt... nice. Right.

“That was the first time I kissed a girl,” Blaze said. “Well, I was dared in kindergarten to kiss a girl but that’s something else entirely and now I’m rambling.”

The silence was only for a second before a few pieces fell into place. “A gift, food, and a kiss. Is this a date?”

Blaze blinked. “Huh. I think it is. I... really didn’t plan on all this. I just thought it would be fun to come up here and things just sort of... happened.”

“Yeah.”

The silence returned.

“I wouldn’t mind it happening again,” Pinkie said slowly.

Blaze smiled. “I’d like that too.”

Pinkie touched the little sun hanging at the nape of her neck. There was one thing that needed to be done, and neither of them would like it. Pinkie didn’t want to spoil the mood.

“I can’t take this home with me. My parents will get super mad.”

Blaze looked crestfallen as Pinkie undid the clasp and handed it back.

“But maybe,” she added, “you can give it back to me in the morning so I can wear it during school?”

Blaze had a special smile that seemed to light up the sky, and Pinkie felt giddy upon seeing it once again.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

Blaze did not pull away as Pinkie gave back the necklace so she could hold her girlfriend’s hand.

“I still think you’re wrong,” Pinkie said quietly. Just because there was another rally going on and they were under the stage, that was no reason to not be careful. “Pep rallies are still loads of fun.”

“Yes, but would you rather spend time on some crowded bleachers or with me?”

Blaze’s hands grasped her tush and carried her over to some foam pads used for tumbling. Pinkie squeaked as she gave them both a delightful squeeze.

“Weeeeeell...”

Pinkie jumped as Blaze gave her rear a soft spank.

“I know where you’re ticklish most. Remember that.”

Blaze sat her down on the pads and dotted kisses up her neck. Pinkie sighed in delight as she was lavished with attention and Blaze’s hands wandered all over her body.

“I think you’re being a little greedy.”

That earned her another spank, but she moaned at the attention.

“You bet your cute little ass I am. I know you’re a squealer, so better hope your sisters out there don’t hear. Or...”

Blaze’s hands snuck under Pinkie’s shirt and sweater and grasped both breasts. “Unless you want them to find us? Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if we were both caught down here?”

She knew Blaze was only teasing, but the warmth flooding her body contrasted with the fear of her family finding out her forbidden secret.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“I suppose I’ll have to give you a nice, big kiss if you’re not.”

Blaze’s hand slung down to Pinkie’s most sacred place, the one thing that was supposed to be reserved to her future husband.

“Be gentle with me...”

Blaze kissed each cheek tenderly.

“You needn’t ask.”

Her parents despised sending her to school. It was the turning point in not one, but two relationships. Depression started seeping into her happy life due to her parent’s wrath at her embracing the modern lifestyles of Canterlot, but at the same time, she had never met a more caring and kind soul like Blaze. No school activities for her, especially when her sisters might be watching, but with every little moment where she could sneak away with Blaze, it didn’t matter what happened. The day was perfect.

Like clockwork, Blaze would give and receive the necklace. It was their own little secret, a sign of blossoming love hidden from the dozens of people sitting around them everyday. She’d taken the advice to heart and become the perfect little daughter, even volunteering to take on some of her sister’s chores when needed. Her schoolwork suffered, but there was no more judging eyes.

Until that one day.

Pinkie knew something was wrong the moment she saw Marble outside during recess. Marble had such a crippling fear of others that she never went outside during lunch break, and yet there she was. Seeing her near the parking lot got Pinkie curious. Seeing her worried got Pinkie afraid.

“Marble—”

The truck came up in a flash. It was her dad’s rusted Chrysler; she knew the pealing paint anywhere. The doors opened and hands dragged her inside by the hair for all the school to see.

Maud was sent upstairs. Limestone was frozen in a corner. Marble kneeled in another with her little hands on her ears, constantly whispering “I’m sorry.” over and over again. Pinkie lay curled up on the dining room floor and didn’t dare meet any of their eyes, especially the wrathful face of her father.

“Sin’s not an absolute, Pinkamena, it’s a choice. Your mother and I let all of our sweet, little children go to Canterlot despite it being a cesspool of modern liberalism. I believe I raised my girls right. I believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that none of my kids—my children—would fall victim to immorality. I believed they were better than that.”

Pinkie said nothing. Even moving might be enough to set him off.

“So what am I supposed to believe when Marble tells me she caught you and some whore kissing?”

Where!? When!? Oh, God, what was she supposed to say? She heard the heavy fall of his boots circling her. He was like a dog circling for the perfect opportunity to strike. She didn’t have time to return Blaze’s necklace and now it felt like a lead weight around her neck, choking her.

“Is my daughter a fag?”

“No!” Pinkie shouted.

“Are you calling your sister a liar?”

“No!”

“Are you calling your sister a liar?”

“No!”

Her eyes were forced open as father’s hand clenched around her shirt and yanked. Her shirt and sweater tore, but what truly made her blood run cold was the necklace now in his grasp.

“So tell me what the hell is this?”

“A friend game it to me!” she pleaded. “She was just being nice.”

Her mother finally entered the fray. She pulled Pinkie up by by her wrists and pulled them across the table. Pinkie lay stretched across its surface, and with her clothes torn, her back was laid bare. Father left for only a moment, but came back with a willow tree branch.

“Daddy no!”

Pinkie screamed as her father lashed her back.

“Leviticus, eighteen twenty,” her father commanded.

Pinkie cried out as she was struck once again.

“Say it!”

Another lash.

“Y-y-you shall n-not lie with—”

Another lash and a scream.

“—w-with mankind, as w—”

Another strike across the back. Pinkie felt a bead or warmth roll down her side through the stinging pain.

“—as with womankind—”

“It is an abomination,” father finished along with her. Another beating across the back, and this time Pinkie saw his switch casting off a small trail of blood. “Take her outside.”

Mother did so without question or complaint. Pinkie dared a look and saw only indifference in her eyes. Her daughter was gay. There was only one punishment for that.

“No!”

Marble’s cherubic voice was never sweeter. What vestige of courage she mustered was enough to get her across the room and push mother away from her bleeding sister. Father turned and saw what had happened. He reacted without thinking, grabbing a roofing hammer on the kitchen counter.

Pinkie moved as well. She knew what was going to happen. Her sister was in danger. She pushed Marble out of the way and everything went dark.

God was always there. He was in everything and always listened. Pinkie had grown up going to church and CCD classes well before going to Canterlot school and knew the entire bible from memory. She spoke to Him every night before bed. Her wish was the same every time, a bountiful life filled with happiness for her family.

Another was in her prayers recently. Her sweet little eyes, her little smile...

It was getting cold...

Shapes swirled around her. Lights and voices.

Blaze just wanted to share her love.

Pinkie felt something as the light began to fade. It was just like in the classroom with that sick, aberrant demon clawing at her insides. Twisting, biting, burning fury devoured every little thought and desire, every memory from before this horrible day. It wasn’t pleasant, wasn’t nice, but it cleared her vision. The night sky, the last she’d ever see. Her parents, and an utterly terrified Limestone. There were looking down on her. Everything was so very cold.

Rage heated her blood just enough to twitch an arm. Her hair was plastered to her side with a bucket of well water and her own drying blood.

Murderers.

She reached out and grabbed an ankle. Mother’s. Pinkie smiled when her mother jumped away in fear. It only widened as the betrayer saw Pinkie’s wretched form and she looked on in horror.

As clear as a bell, Pinkie began to laugh. The first shovelful of dirt from her father did nothing to stop her maddened glee. Hatred stronger than anything she had ever known coursed through her veins and compelled to memorize every dimple and curve of her parent’s faces. She didn’t want to forget.

“You t-took Blaze away from me...”

Each word felt like a railroad spike to the head.

“I won’t forget that.”

Quiet.

The room was so very quiet.

Cranky had moved to the wall nearest one of the windows, but his soft blue eyes never broke away from Sunset’s. She reached a hand towards her face and it came away wet. She should say something. Something in her told her she should say something.

Nothing came.

“That was almost twentyfive years ago. Limestone came to the police station the next day. Her parents must have seen her breaking, because when the cops came by, Pinkie’s body had been moved. Didn’t matter. Limestone cracked under the guilt and told them everything. They found Pinkie’s blood in the grave, and even though they didn’t find her, moving the body was enough for the judge to give them both twentyfive to life. To this day, they don’t say where she’s buried. Didn’t want her face to see the sun for the dishonor she brought to the family, they said. Horseshit. They destroyed their family that night.”

He had loosened a cigarette during his tale and took an occasional puff, blowing the smoke out the window. Once more he took a drag and blew a smoky column into the afternoon air.

“I admit, I didn’t like her at first.” Cranky’s voice was quiet, but the air was so deathly still even that carried across the darkened library. “In my thirty-six years at this school, I’ve never had a louder or more obnoxious student. But goddamn, that kid had a heart of gold. It makes me wish I knew Blaze’s real name. It’s the only one Pinkie called her in conversation, but it probably saved her life; parents can’t exactly find a name that doesn’t exist.”

Cranky took another long drag of his cigarette. Sunset was still frozen to her chair.

“Pinkie would go to any length to see someone smile. Suppose that’s what drew people to her. Lotsa heart, even if she didn’t have much in terms of brains. So much love to give. Y’know, you hear every so often about a family burying a kid. Sucks enough when it’s the kids burying the parents, but no parent should have to attend a child’s funeral. But a girl like her who didn’t have the capability of hating anything, killed by people she loved and trusted? I told that girl to wait out her days at school, to be patient when all the while a bomb was ticking down at home. I’d turn back time if I could. No one has the right to kill a child.”

Sunset’s shaky knees allowed her to stand. Canterlot was supposed to be a peaceful place. Fighting and infighting occurred, but never had she heard of anyone here dying by such violence. Cranky offered her his cigarette, which she gladly accepted. A nice, long draft helped to calm the sick feeling in her stomach.

“You think she’s alive?”

Sunset looked up at him. She had a good lock on most people at school, even the sisters that ran it. Cranky... now that she thought about it, she didn’t know nearly as much about him as she thought. He was a perfect mask of calm, his voice not betraying either hope or scorn.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded, face still blank as a gambler.

“If she is, be kind. She’s been through a lot. I don’t blame her for falling off the deep end.”

He reached for his cigarette, which she returned.

“You know you’re being an enabler. I’m physically not even eighteen in this world.”

“Like I haven’t caught you smoking on school grounds before, Sunset. In my youth, LSD and hashish were being passed around like party favors. I’ve seen worse things that can kill you, and with what you’ve dealt with, a hit or two’s not gonna hurt. If it helps, it helps.”

He flicked the rest of the but out the window and onto the cold blacktop. Sunset put away her books; they wouldn’t be of any use in her state. Cranky held the door open for her as she passed.

“Careful, kid.”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’re not gonna let this one go.”

Cranky gave her a respectful nod and closed the door behind her. The metallic shuttering signaled the locking mechanism sliding into place, leaving Sunset alone in the parking lot with the remaining cars. Her own bike was propped up next to a nineties Sedan, and placing her meager effects in their bags, Sunset fished out her keys.

Behind her was the road with one way leading downtown, and the other the neighboring Dodge Junction. She saw cars whizzing back and forth in her rearview mirror, the roads congested as people started getting off from work. Her gaze drifted up until she saw her own cyan eyes staring back at her.

“Pinkie.”

Five times upon a mirror. Pink eyes, and broken laughter.

Not yet. Testing the legend would be for another day. Sunset kicked her bike to life and joined the others on the road, shivering as she was kissed by the cold night air.

The First Calling

Chapter 3: The First Calling

Sunset couldn’t remember her ride home. After Cranky’s story, everything felt flat, almost lifeless, and the light drizzle matched her mood perfectly.

‘Why am I so caught up with this?’

At first it was just banal, morbid curiosity. A murder might have had a supernatural cause, and yet despite the tragic and violent death of a girl and the incarceration of a local boy she knew, it felt so far away, so distant. Murder wouldn’t affect her idyllic life in the slightest, because that was something that happened to other people. She had responded with detachment even when it happened to a friend of a friend. After the, retelling right down to Pinkie’s last moments and words, she felt almost wounded.

‘I wonder what her last thoughts were?’

Did Pinkie think about her time with Blaze? Her sisters? Anger at her parent’s zealotry? Cranky’s story said Limestone heard her cursing her parents and laughing.

Sunset shivered.

She pulled up to her parking spot and marched up to her apartment room. It wasn’t much; just one apartment amongst nineteen others. The door led into her kitchen and she dropped her keys into a basket. Adjacent to the kitchen was the living room, and it was scattered with discarded clothes, a few dishes, and whatever crap she didn’t feel like picking up just yet.

“I really need to clean up after myself.”

When it became necessary.

A quick shower and a reheated dish of some Chinese takeout later, Sunset walked into her bedroom clad in only her underwear. Nudity was one of the human taboos she questioned, and being in the buff at home felt so much more comfortable than wearing reams and reams of clothes. She sat her naked rear down on the bed, put her rice and pork egg rolls on the bedside table, and pulled out her laptop.

She normally would have spent a little more time relaxing. Rainbow Dash had given Sunset her Netflix password. There were several books and movies to enjoy, some magical in origin but most were related to modern history and medicine. Sunset had a fascination with human history, and that was probably one of the few reasons she and Cranky could carry a civil conversation. There were dozens of civilizations and races across her homeworld. There was only one species here capable of cognitive, sapient thought. The biodiversity was perhaps even more vast than Equestria’s, but there was only one species here that dominated. Odd.

She could always partake in a little preening and cleaning. She didn’t consider herself vain, at least nothing comparable to Rarity. Sunset still liked to doll herself up every now and then and just revel in feeling sexy. Physical appearance wasn’t as much of a factor in relationships in Equestria, but it was here, and the little bodily maintenance gave her a confidence boost. There was something oddly satisfying about running a hand across smooth, unblemished skin.

Regardless of her normal routine, she didn’t feel much like indulging herself today. Her computer booted up and she ran the first search.

GHOST MYTHS

She closed the window before she even got the results. First things first: what exactly did she know about this myth? A girl was killed by her parents, and it takes ritualistically calling her name five times to summon her.

“No, not even that.”

Calling her name existed in legend only; there was no way to confirm that summoned Pinkie’s spirit, if she could be summoned at all. Testing that out right now seemed unwise.

“C’mon, think this through.”

Pinkie died a violent and cruel death. Providing Cranky’s version of events was accurate, Pinkie, a girl of boundless enthusiasm and life, had snapped and uttered her vengeance against her murderers. Loss of love and life. Those were powerful things.

Sunset swallowed the lump in her throat. If she was about to die, what would be her last thoughts? Anger at her murderers would be pretty up there. Remembering her friends and family? Well, her friends more than her family. The nights spent at each other’s houses. Her time with Celestia.

Could attachments be a strong enough motivator for a girl like Pinkie to cheat death? No, otherwise the world would be flooded with confirmed sightings of spirits rather than fables and folktales. Something special happened here.

“If something happened at all,” she lamented.

Still, her gut was telling her this was something worth looking into. Feeling a little chill, she put on a shirt and sweatpants. The most likely cause was this world’s weird effects on magic creating something new. Magic acted differently here, seemingly focused more on altering the body more than anything else. Her own transformations and her friend’s tendency to “pony-up” were indications that conventional spellcraft required using the body as some sort of focus.

But Pinkie didn’t have any magic. She died almost three decades ago and wasn’t exposed to magic from Equestria’s side of the gate.

“Wait...”

The sirens came before Twilight and herself, and there was a possibility that more entities passed through the barrier prior to them. Even if Pinkie wasn’t exposed to the portal, there was a chance she was exposed to something else. Maybe this Blaze individual was magical? Cranky said only Pinkie could identify her by that name. On second thought, Marble would know her by sight, but her parents were caught before she could spill the beans.

“I’ll have to ask Cranky where Marble is sometime.”

...Could Cranky be from the other side?

Hmmm. A thought to file away for later.

There was a probability, even if she didn’t know how small, that Pinkie could have come into contact with Equestrian magic to give her the fortitude to persist after death. Magic required a clear goal and focused mind to work, and given her targeted depression and rage during her... end... that could have been enough to trigger a magical transformation. It could have developed her body enough to persist after it failed. Her body, dead, but something new in its place.

Sunset wrapped herself in blankets to stave off the cold. What kind of life would it be to be stuck in a body neither living nor dead? Now that she thought about it, there was a human term for it. What was it now...?

“A shade.”

Was the mirror even needed? If Pinkie was a pseudo-incorporeal spirit, a being of emotion and thought, calling her name, the thought of her could be what draws her attention and ire. Like likes like. Happy thoughts invoke more happy thoughts. Anger begets anger. Pinkie begets Pinkie.

It was a theory with no proof whatsoever, but it was possible. Unlikely, but still possible.

Poor Pinkie, cast out for loving another girl.

...

It was getting very cold in the bedroom...

Sunset’s breath misted in the air. Goosebumps dotted her arms and legs and she shivered. It was October and sixty degrees out when she left school.

She slowly closed the lid of her computer and got out of bed, dropping the blankets. The air bit at her slender body, freezing her blood. She was very much aware of her thudding heartbeat and the light movements of her many neighbors. Regretting she wasn’t wearing at least another three layers, she slowly reached for the door and turned the knob. The door noiselessly opened.

Nothing was there.

Her throat felt so very dry, but each breath seemed to freeze her lungs. The feeling of unease she’d acquired ever since the library was creeping further and further up her spine. She was very careful to make no noise with each step towards the front door. Her eyes drifted towards every little shadow of her dark apartment. Why hadn’t she turned on any lights?

Nothing in the kitchen or the living room. Good, but that didn’t stop her from walking through window sunbeams when possible. As cold as it was, she was sweating. She reached for the doorknob.

Sunset shivered as the burning cold of death froze her hand.

She flipped over her doormat to reveal a small thaumaturgical circle. It was only one stroke from being unfinished, which was what the little stick of chalk was for. A slight warmth made her sigh in relief, but the omnipresent, oppressive chill did not recede. There was something in the air, something that didn’t belong.

There were defensive wards all over her apartment. Some were already in place, but Sunset felt this was a time to activate all of them for good measure. Maybe a little reinforcement wouldn’t hurt.

Every fiber of her being was telling her to not open that door.

Room by room she moved, eyes always alert and ears searching. Signs and spellcraft against evil and forceful entry. She only knew one ward for spirits, and she prayed to Celestia there was enough strength in her work. All doors in and out, each tiny window and vent was warded. Sunset’s breath hitched in her throat as she finished with the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Nothing.

She tossed a towel over the mirror.

Mistake. Perhaps it wasn’t ritualistic after all. Could calling her once work? She hadn’t even considered the possibility.

She could smell blood and fresh earth in the air.

Sunset finished warding the door to her bedroom and backed into the wall. She saw a compact and the mirror inside on her desk and tossed a stray shirt over it. She quickly donned a sweater, pants, and socks before pulling out a knife from her underwear drawer. It would do little good against a ghost, but it was comforting to have and was certainly better than just a bad attitude. Sunset stared at the door within a nest of blankets, eyes locked on the door.

Author's Note

This one's a little sadder than my other works. If you like it and can spare the coin, feel free to visit my patreon at Patreon.

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