The Trotting Dead: Hellacious Happenings and Horrific Horrors

by Tatzer

Rating: mature
Tags: Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Dark, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia
Length: 4174

Can Cheap Trick protect his loved ones and retain his sanity in a world gone rabid?

Life was just kumquats and gravy for Cheap Trick. That is, until nature broke its own laws. The living are dropping like stones in a lake, the dead aren't staying so, and hidden evils have revealed their faces. Twisted mockeries of their former selves, wretched necromancers have taken it upon themselves to summon their worm-infested fellows from out of their beds. To make matters worse, ancient war horses of lost lore have risen to punish those of Equestria for their supposed sins. And if those weren’t enough to worry about, an ancient evil has been unleashed; an evil that is older than Equestria itself, and threatens to destroy all of existence if not kept in check.

Can Cheap Trick protect his loved ones and retain his sanity in a world gone rabid? Can he reign in his weaknesses and become the pony he must be to survive in the wastes?

*NOTES*
Any and all constructive criticisms and corrections would be greatly appreciated. As this is my first story, any and all comments on my writing style and where I can improve would be greatly appreciated.

Gore will be added later after life turns for the worse; I simply felt the need to add a warning to what will be contained in the story in the future.

Published 2012-06-28 18:54:03 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-29 10:19:20 UTC

Chapter 1 - A Very Dark Mare

‘Might I ride you down the side of a volcano?’

‘No, no you may not. Besides, there are no volcanoes around here, only mountains and some rolling hills. Yeesh, your ideas sometimes...’

~~~~~~

The unicorn screamed as he lurched forward. He had woken up from a nightmare yet again. His fur had become lathered from the all the sweating he’d done during his fitful sleeping. Panting, he looked out of his window to be greeted by yet another dark, overcast, and rather dismal morning. Again? Well, I do suppose the crops need water... He shook his head in an attempt to remove some of his messy mane out of his face, but failed. He looked over the mountains, with the sun just peeking its obscured rays over the troughs of the jagged land masses; birds sang from the nearby trees in the early-morning air. Sitting down to gaze out the window, he idly ran his hooves over his flanks, and became rather disgusted at the slick fur. A shower it shall be then, I suppose.

~~~~~~

After stepping out of the shower he began to dry himself off. Rubbing the towel vigorously over his cutie mark, he thought he saw it change. It was absurd, he knew, but he couldn’t help but think something was... different. The mark was the same usual upturned top hat with some standard playing cards fanned in front of it. To add to the mark, there was the usual Ace of Spades peering over the hat’s upturned brim. It had been the reason why everyone called him ‘Cheap Trick’. He’d always delighted in entertaining people not with his own magic, but what he could make them believe was magic. A rabbit from the hat, a coin from behind the ear, and all the other usual, standard tricks were frequently deployed upon little foals and fillies for cheap, and easy, laughter and amazement. But now, he’d felt there was something... odd. Didn’t that Four of Spades used to be a Ten? Not like I usually look at it anyway... My memory must simply be faulty.

He walked over to his bathroom mirror and, with comb in hoof, proceeded in his usual process to attempt in taming his mane, but to no avail. He set the comb down and looked at the pictures he had inserted into his mirror’s metal frame. One, near the top at the left, was of the shy, yet adorable, yellow pegasus: Fluttershy. Another, at the bottom center, was of Pinkie Pie, the pink party pony. The last one, which was placed halfway up the right side, was of his favorite musician, Octavia. He’d always been especially fond of those three girls, but had always been afraid to ask. He sighed as he peered out of the window a second time. Nope, no change in the weather... He walked over to the calendar, which contained his work schedule, that hung by his bathroom door. No work today.

He pondered for a few long moments. This was his only day off this week - mind you, he rather enjoyed his work and would rather be performing right now, anyway - and the day was dreary. He would’ve walked to market today, but he just simply wasn’t feeling it. Well, if I’m feeling like this, then everypony else is probably, too. I suppose I’ll get myself prim and proper, and go to Sugarcube Corner... He walked over to his dresser that he had set up in his living room, and started looking through his wardrobe. A vest. A vest will look good. He grabbed one of his favorite vests; it was a darker shade of green, to complement his sage-green eyes, and had silver-plated buttons. He posed in front of the mirror, making sure everything was in order. What else? A Collar. He had to have a collar, as he felt naked without it. He grabbed his usual tan collar and put it on. Satisfied, he trotted out of his house.

A few minutes of walking towards Sugarcube Corner, Cheap Trick found his mane getting in his eyes, as always. This won’t do, he thought with irritation, I suppose it’s a bit early to arrive at Sugarcube Corner, anyway. Perhaps I should get my mane trimmed. As luck would have it, Snippets’ Barber Shop always opened bright and early. A minor detour it is, then.

~~~~~~

As one would expect from the time of day, there was only a few waiting in the barber shop, and, as such, the manecut was pleasantly timely and quick. Snippets’ barbers worked their magic on Cheap Trick’s mane; he payed for the manecut with some of the bits that the off-white unicorn kept stashed in all of his garments. Upon leaving the barber’s shop, the sun was still only in the fledgling stages of its ascent. Well, I don’t think Sugarcube Corner is even open this early, is it? On that, why is Snippits’? He decided that he would take a stroll in one of the nearby parks while he waited for a more reasonable hour, and so he walked slowly away from the barber’s shop.

Upon thinking for awhile, he’d remembered that Snippits’ was open precisely for ponies like him; those that were up bright n’ early for commitments made for before the sunrise. Of course, this isn’t a commitment... Rather, it is a plan. Well, not really a plan, more like a whim. Well, not really a whim, closer to being a plan, but it’s not... Cheap Trick shook his head with vigor in an attempt to clear his thoughts; it would not do well to cloud his head with some argument over whether something would be this or that. He sighed and continued walking, with no great haste, to the park.

~~~~~~

He had continued walking. He had done well in keeping his mind out of knots. He stopped; the park was right across the street, and all that he had to do was cross, but something felt... off. He glanced around. He could see others in the distance down either end of the street, but some of them further off down the left were leaving in a hurry. A hooded individual in a black cape was walking Cheap Trick’s way, and anyone who had been close to the strolling pony ended up running in terror. Cheap Trick looked on with a quizzical expression shown in plain detail upon his face. Was this stranger like Zecora? Did everyone run simply out of ignorance and misconceptions?

This continued. The hooded pony would come near somepony in their walk, and they would run away in a panick with all the speed they could muster. Cheap Trick stood for those several moments as the individual came near him, too.

Nausea set in.

Next came fear.

Then absolute horror etched itself into his subconscious.

The only thought that came from the back of his mind was one word, over and over, in its Royal Canterlot voice: [RUN! RUN! RUN!] But Cheap Trick could not. Surely there was nothing to fear of this pony? He stood where he had, albeit with less strength in his legs than he liked. He turned his head to the approaching pony and tried to put on his best welcoming smile, grimacing despite his best efforts.

Then it hit him - the stench of a thousand deaths.

And then a thousand more.

And a thousand more.

An insurmountable, innumerable mass of rotting, putrefying deaths.

Panick and nausea rushed to the forefront again.

[RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN!!!]

I... can’t... He was driven to his knees as he attempted to wash away the nausea, but the nausea did not go away. In fact, the nausea seemed to be building.

[HE WILL KILL YOU! RUN NOW! YOU WILL DIE! DO. YOU. NOT. UNDERSTAND?!] He struggled to bring his head up against all logic in order to look into the eyes of the approaching pony, and caught a glimpse of its face. Black eyes. All the coloration was instead black. White was black. Everything was nothing but black. The skin was pulled tight against the skull, clearly outlining the shape of the bone. Mange revealed black skin underneath black fur. A trio of jagged, twisted, spiralling, obsidian horns jutted out of the pony’s forehead haphazardly. It turned to regard Cheap Trick as it exhaled thick, roiling tendrils of black smoke from its nostrils. This creature, whatever unholy parents it came from, seemed to exude death. If this demon had a mark it would definitely be the sum of all fears that reside in a pony’s heart. No. It would be the embodiment of death, horror, and all things unholy.

The pony nickered at Cheap Trick with the voice of a thousand plagued winds.

What monstrosity is this...? Cheap Trick’s heart skipped a beat as he struggled with what he saw in front of him. Certainly there was no possible way that this could be real... This must certainly be a trick of the eyes... right?

[MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!!!] All logic left Cheap Trick.

He ran. He ran with all the strength he could muster. Faster and faster he fled until he felt as though his legs would give out; until he felt that he would collapse; until he felt like the strain would kill him anyway. Then he ran more. His legs burned in rebellious fury; his lungs bellowed with the heated winds of the hottest deserts; his nostrils flared in a failed attempt to find an odor other than that of wretched, rotting death. No matter how far he fled he could still smell that rot. Oh how that horrid, wretched fetor had pervaded his nose! Sweat lathered his flesh and fur as it foamed and formed a froth.

Twists and turns through the streets; Cheap Trick had no concept of how long he had been running or where he was going. He’d ran into stands and other ponies. He’d toppled over time and again, but every time he bolted straight back into a dead run. Everything was a blur as his mind struggled to reign in control. His grip began to slip as he began to fall into the dark recesses of his mind. His vision went dark; sound dulled; he could barely even feel the aches of his muscles anymore as he continued to run.

And then, clarity. His eyes opened wide. He saw his house. The front of his house, and he was running at it full-bore. He tried to turn away, but he couldn’t. It was like his body was automated and he couldn’t flip the switch. Closer and closer the door came. He closed his eyes, trying to wish it away. Again, the darkness beckoned to him with that illustrious siren song. He obeyed.

Thump.

~~~~~~

Cheap Trick opened his eyes to be greeted by his bedroom door as it bumped into his face, or, rather, as he had bumped into it. It seemed as though the pony’s body had been partaking in somnambulism again. A glance out of his window showed it to be a bright and beautiful day with the sun peaking in its arc. He shook his head with fury as he attempted to push aside the nightmare. The horror of that monster still lingered. A groggy pass of his hooves over his flanks brought sweat and grime with it, much like before. Well! I suppose that shower wasn’t real, after all... He thought with disappointment and a forced chuckle. Looking at his calendar showed the same as in the dream: no work today. Good, I’m not late for anywhere. Shower, get ready for me!

He stood in the water as he watched the liquid drain out of the shower, only to be replaced with more. He thought back to that nightmare of his. Something about that hooded pony was disturbingly solid. Those black eyes... For whatever reason, they had felt all too real. He shuddered as he remembered back to the gaunt, mange-afflicted face, and the stench lingered in spite of the froofy scents from the bath soaps. He shook his head and flared his nostrils in an attempt to take in softer scents, but the fetor seemed to linger with a steadfast conviction. Nausea started to creep in as before, but this time it felt strangely sedated. Cheap Trick sighed as he focused on finishing his shower, and what he would do after.

A vest, yes. A vest and my tan collar, that’ll look good. Today, I’ve made my mind, He thought as he grimaced through the nausea, and peered at his mirror through the shower curtains; the pictures in the mirror frame gave him comfort from the nausea. I’ll head to Sugarcube Corner.

Chapter 2 - And They Shall Eat (Cup)Cake

‘What is that you are drinking, the laughter of small fillies from a cup?’

‘It is not a cup, it’s a chalice, and yes. Yes, I am.’

~~~~~~

The sun loomed high. Cheap Trick stopped for a brief moment as he pulled his pocket watch; 1:30, at a quick glance. Precise minutes didn’t matter, not today. He pocketed the timepiece, and stared with uncertainty across the street. There, in Sugarcube Corner, was a most disastrous, calamitous, horrific situation that there could be for a pony such as himself: Today seemed to be a special promotion for one of Pinkie’s new recipes. Octavia was sitting on one of the stools with her Bass Cello; from what he could glean, it appeared that they’d hired her to entertain the patrons. To add the icing to this devil’s food, Fluttershy was there and already with a great number of presumably carrot-flavored treats, and waiting for more it seemed.

Well... Blast it all, and here I thought that I would be able to make a choice today... The corners of Cheap Trick’s mouth turned downwards; just as he’d decided that he would make a go for Pinkie, those two just had to up and be there... Cheap Trick just... just... stared at the storefront as his disappointment and frustration set in and mulled about. He sighed and hung his head as he pawed a rut into the ground in his agitation. He thought for a couple moments more on whether to enter or leave, but before he could make a decision he heard that sweet, cheery voice.

“Hiya, Tricks! Want to come on in and try some yummy, delicious cupcakes? Mmmmm, ohh gosh, they’re so good, you have to try one! It’s a new recipe that I’ve made, and I’m trying to get the opinion of everypony on it!” The pink party pony had declared as she bounced out of the shop towards him with a tray of multi-colored cupcakes balanced upon her head with such precariousness; the very sight of what occurred before him succeeded in eliciting a broad smile from the grumped entertainer. Cheap Trick nodded and accepted a cupcake that the fuschia pony had handed him.

The frosting was a rainbow of colors - quite literally. The full spectrum was proudly displayed in streams of color and intertwined with one another. The aroma competed with the lingering stench of death within his nose. The aromatic deliciousness won. His mouth salivated; he wanted to eat the cupcake.

And so he did.

The flavor of the cupcake was indescribable. It was vanilla, but not. There were hints of blueberries and cherries, but the flavors disappeared to be replaced by more fruit. The slow cycling of flavors continued as he savored the delectable cupcake. His audible signs of joy made Pinkie Pie beam with pride. The flavors should have been contradicting, but instead they simply complemented one another harmoniously. Cheap Trick would have been content to eat all her cupcakes out there in the fresh, clean air.

That would solve the problem, wouldn’t it? He thought about it as he savored the cupcake. If he and Pinkie stayed out there... And Fluttershy and Octavia are in there, away from him, so that he wouldn’t have to choose one over the other... But that’s selfish... I shouldn’t think like that. A frown spread across his forehead. She needs to be in there serving the customers. After all, it wouldn’t be very fair if I was in the middle of a performance and some mare pulled me away from the crowd...

He jumped.

His heart was racing; his mind panicked as he swallowed the instinct to run.

He opened his eyes to find that Pinkie had placed one of her hooves on his shoulder. He stared at her with daggers of disbelief. What was this? A hoof? On him? He wriggled uncomfortably as she guided him into the bakery.

Oh no.

Now, it wasn’t the thought of entering the bakery that held Fluttershy and Octavia, and soon would hold Pinkie Pie as well, that worried him - as the terror had shattered that thought, but rather it was the fact... that she... was touching him. Thoughts raced through his head. How to get her off without upsetting her? If her past deflation proved true then she was not one for rejection.

I got it! A trick! Trumpets blared in his cacophonous cranium. Uhm, uhm, ehh... Hmm. Blank. Yup, no tricks came to the stallion. Anything that came to mind must have been seen dozens over by Pinkie, as she attended all of his shows like it was her religion, and that was no way to slink out of a situation. I... No. No. This situation will not stop me. I will... Blast. He resigned to the situation. We was going to have to use... magic. He swallowed hard at what must be done. He sweated at the thought of using magic without the presence of Twilight or Nurse Redheart, but this touching... The touching was most definitely worse.

“Hey, uh, Pinkie...” His voice wavered.

“Yeah, Tricks?” She spoke as she turned her head to face him, and the cupcakes swayed with the motion.

“Want to see a trick? It’s, uhm, experimental. I’m still trying to work the kinks out, and I’d like your input..!” He grinned in his nervousness. He began going through the mental preparations as he awaited the almost immediate...

“Ohh, yes! Show me! Ohh, I’ll bet it’s amazing! Of course I want to see it!” her bouncing carried through to the cupcakes, those of which repeated the motions.

“I... Thought so,” He let out a heavy sigh; Pinkie’s face twisted in confusion at the entertainer’s nervousness. “Well, here goes!” He mentally marked his initial landing, and were he would exit, as well as his secondary landing point near the front of Sugarcube Corner.

He leapt as high as his legs would carry him into the sty, and dove, face first, straight towards the ground. He built up magick and cast the portal spell as his front hooves made contact. He sunk through the ground and reappeared, at a slight angle as to clear the portal, and he soared high with the impossible momentum that built from the portal. Firework-esque explosions colored the air around him and strands of solidified magick confettied the air as he peaked in his launch. He twirled at the last second and landed, straight-legged, on all fours. His mind eased. No one had died. Not this time, anyway. He even let a smile cross him.

“Ohh, wow, Tricks, that was amazing! Magic is amazing!” Her faced almost glowed from the beaming expression on her face. “But uh,” Now it was quizzical, that face of hers, “If you’d wanted me off, you could have just said so! But I guess that was my fault, I sort of forgot!”

What?

“Uhh, how’d you - “ He started, worry on his face. He didn’t much like his secrets being out like that. If that was out, then...

“Ohh, I have my sources.” She smiled as she interrupted him.

“Sources...?” Oh no, who knew?!

“Of course, silly! Like this crystal ball!” Sure enough, she materialized a crystal ball somewhere from behind her back, “By the way, I think that was the first time I’ve seen you use magic. Well, I’ve seen you do magic, but I’ve never seen you do magic-magic. Or was it magic-magic? Magic-magic?” Whew! So, it was Pinkie just being Pinkie, again. As the baker continued to contemplate the pronunciation of a moot point, another voice caught Cheap Trick’s attention.

“Wow, Cheap Trick, I’m impressed! I’ve never seen someone do something quite like that with magic!” The source of the voice turned to be Twilight, who brought Applejack, Rarity, and the loathsome dragon, Spike, in tow, “On top of that, this is the first that I’ve known of you practicing without Redheart or I! Making progress, Trick!” The librarian smiled as she walked nearer.

“Uhm, thanks. I still don’t have much control or finesse at all, unfortunately. So, you guys here for the muffins?” He said with a wink to the approaching ponies. This will be good! Pinkie’s head dipped and her jaw dropped.

“Mu-m-muffins?” Was all Pinkie could stammer out as her head dipped and her jaw dropped. The cupcakes emulated the head movements. Those cupcakes sure were expressive.

“Oh yes!” Twilight replied with a wink of her own. “Hey, Pinkie, mind if I try one of the muffins?” Twilight asked.

“Count me in! I love a good muffin!” Chimed Applejack. Pinkie looked at them in exasperation.

“Ohh, you know I’m on a diet, but... Ohh, alright, I’ll take a muffin, too.” Rarity tossed into the conversation.

“You guys, these aren’t muffins!” Pinkie was desperate.

“Did somebody say muffins?” The mail courier, Derpy Hooves, hovered right-side-down above Pinkie, spilling mail out of her satchel.

“Haha, no Derpy, although I’m sure there’s some inside.” Cheap Trick said with a shake of his head and a chuckle.

“Ohh, okay! I’ll come buy later and buy lots, okay?” And with that the mail courier flew off.

“You guys...” Pinkie sat on her rump, head slumped, and face sullen.

“Oh, we were just playing, Pinkie; we know they’re cupcakes, and I’m sure they’re delicious.” Twilight, now next to the baker and entertainer, wrapped her hoof around Pinkie Pie’s shoulder.

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought you guys were serious!” The Pink perked right up.

“But no, seriously, my dear, ah-hah, my diet.” Rarity said.

Screams.

Bloodcurdling screams.

“Those sound like they’re coming from the cemetery!” Twilight’s voice peaked in panick. Whatever was happening...

More screams.

“Everyone, inside.” Cheap Trick’s ears lay flat, remembrance of the dream coming to mind. The putrid stench returned, though whether it was simulated or real, he could only guess.

“Bu - “ Spike tried to interject.

“Now. Non-debatable.” He shot a hateful look at the purple whelping. Spike just swallowed and walked into the bakery with haste, along with everypony else. Once everypony else was in, Cheap Trick followed after and locked down the now-silent shop. A snarl spread across his face as the his hairs stood up on end. Closer and closer, the screams came. Everyone was mute, or spoke in hushed whispers.

“What in tarnation’s goin’ on out there?” A confused Applejack asked.

“Hell. Whatever it is, it’s Hell.” The entertainer spat.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation! We, we can’t just hide in here and do nothing!” Twilight said.

“No help for whatever it is.”

“Come again?”

A crescendo of screams, ever closer.

“Whatever is out there, I saw it.”

“Well then, what is it?”

“Darkness beyond black.” A shiver coursed down his spine. Those eyes...

“What? Where’d you see it?”

“My dreams.” He seethed. Twilight scoffed in response.

“You’re afraid because of a nightmare?”

“I framed you as someone of more class and bravery than that.” Rarity’s words rang heavy with irritation and annoyance. Ponies ran by the shop in droves.

“Uhm, I’m afraid of my nightmares.” Came a Fluttercry from behind the counter. Naught a sight of the yellow pony was to be seen.

“It was the nightmare.” He whispered.

“Darlin’, I think you might be overreacting.” Concern showed on Applejack’s face.

“I agree with Applejack; now let’s go out there, and address the issue. Look, everypony’s frightened. They need our help,” A pony slammed into the door, aggressively rattling the handle in an attempt to find shelter in the middle of Twilight’s voicing, “See? This isn’t the logical route to do things. They need our help. Please.”

Without a word, Cheap Trick walked over and opened the door, which then burst inward, knocking him down. Running through the doorway was Nurse Redheart, who slammed the door shut and locked it again. “Stay inside!” She shouted. Whatever was out there had made her hysterical, frantic. Blood trickled down her face and collected at her chin, before it fell to the ground in beads. “Whatever happens, everybody must stay in here!” Everyone started to panic, except the musician, who seemed rather casual about it all.

“Well, now, if you’re all finished, may I get back to my music?”