Dead by Dawn

“And that was Mr. Sandman. It’s Radio Vinyl and I’m here with our guest Silver Screen. Silver, we were discussing horror movies. I have a personal question: What is it with characters taking showers or having sex or just finding excuses to take their clothes off in general?”

“Audience titillation of course. Nothing gets eyes on the screen like tits.” There was a pause. “C-can I say that?”

“What, tits? Yeah, you can say tits. But, more importantly, if a girl gets her tits out, she’s dead meat, right?”

“Not, uh, ahem, not necessarily. There are a few examples of horror survivors who, ah, get their tits out.”

“You know, not to get off topic, but I just realized I could be completely naked and my audience would have no idea.”

“Uh, yeah. You’re not, uh, going to do that now, are you?”

“Not unless you start throwing money at me.” The DJ laughed. “Something we can maybe look forward to folks. Gotta keep this show interesting. It’s Radio Vinyl with out Dead by Dawn marathon. Here’s the commercials.”

Violet Visor yawned and tuned out the advisements. She turned her attention back at the mask she was making. It wasn’t anything special, but the slender, white coated, baggy shirt and sweatpants wearing Pegasus always felt calmer when she was working with her hands.

She brushed a long lock of red mane from her eye and leaned in close, her nose inches from the smooth, ivory surface of the mask. She frowned and leaned back. She looked over her workbench, eyes passing over various tools before settling on a switchblade. She picked it up and flicked it open, the blade flashing in the light of the nearby lamp.

Slowly, she brought the tip of the blade to the right cheek of the mask. She put some weight on it and then quickly drew it down across the face. She placed the switchblade back on the desk and held up the mask again, observing the damage she had done.

She grinned and grabbed the switchblade, setting about giving the mask a much more scarred visage. Once she was finished, she set the blade aside and picked up a bit of steel wool, taking off some of the unsightly excess material and adding more tiny scratches. After a moment, she set the wool aside as well and held the mask up to the light.

Smiling broadly, she clapped her hands, bringing to life the rest of the lights in the room. It was a small room, furnished only with a dresser upon which the radio sat, the desk where Violet was doing her work, a couch on the other side of the room, and a small glass coffee table directly in front of the couch.

“Zeal, look at this one!” She said excitedly.

She turned to face aforementioned the couch and the big, blonde coated Unicorn sprawled out on it, decked out like he was going to be raiding a kingpin’s mansion any second now. Zealous Strike groaned and threw an arm over his eyes.

“Violet, I was sleeping,” he growled. Not in anger, he just tended to growl in general.

“And now you’re not. Come on, I promise this one isn’t a clown,” She said sweetly.

Zealous sighed again and sat up, shaking his head and further mussing up his spiky, dark brown mane. He ran a hand through the white streak it had.

“Okay, let me see it.”

Violet giggled and proudly held out her scratched and scuffed up hockey mask.

“Very… original,” Zealous deadpanned after a moment.

Violet scoffed and tossed the mask back onto her workbench. “There’s nothing wrong with paying tribute to a classic, brother dear.”

Zealous snorted and yawn, stretching his muscled limbs.

“Any word yet?” he asked.

“What do you think?” she replied.

Zealous opened his mouth to say something, probably snarky, when the mobile phone sitting on the coffee table in front of him buzzed. Zealous picked up the phone and flipped it open. He looked at the screen for a moment before looked back to Violet.

“It’s time,”

Violet felt a smirk coming on. “Finally,”

As one, the siblings stood up and began moving about the small room. From the dresser Violet pulled a duffle bag, which she tossed to her brother. He caught it easily and stood up from the couch, turning and pulling the cushions up like the lid of a cooler. Inside the couch was a veritable arsenal of unregistered firearms along with plenty of knives and other bladed weapons.

“Bring the twelve-gauge,” Violet said over her shoulder as she pulled black combat gear from the dresser. “I want to make that dog bleed.”

“Dog’s all yours,” Zealous replied as he stuffed the shotgun into the bag, moving on to pick out his own weaponry. “Just remember it’s the snake we want.” The duffle bag loaded, she stood up and turned around just in time to catch the Kevlar vest tossed his way.

“With a price as big as hers, how could I forget?” Violet smiled as she laced up her boots. She stood up, looking less like a college student and more like a commando. She snatched up the mask from her desk as she walked over to the couch, pulling a machete from inside it. “The mutt’s just a bonus.”

Zealous chuckled as he pushed the couch closed again. “Are you really bringing the mask?”

“What?” Violet said innocently as she held the mask over her face. “It’s Nightmare-Night. And I want my candy.”

Zealous rolled his eyes and slipped the duffle bag’s strap over his shoulder, tucking the vent under his arm. “Sometime I think you have way too much fun.”

Violet pulled the mask away and giggled. “It’s a fun job, if you do it right. Here, you wear the mask. Trust me, it’ll be a blast.”

Her brother shook his head and started towards the door.

“Aw, come on.”

“I’ll think about it,”

Violet followed him. “Fine, you think out it, I’ll drive.”

“Like hell you’re driving.”

“Aw…”

Val had never eaten a Crystal Pony before.

It was something of an odd note. She had eaten Earth Ponies, Unicorns, Pegasi, Thestrals, Zebras, Donkeys, Minotaurs, Diamond Dogs, Gryphons, a (relatively small) Dragon or two. She had even swallowed down a few Changelings. But never before had a Crystal Pony graced her taste buds.

Well, the sample size was small, but so far, Crystal Ponies were sweet and tender.

A muffled, but discernable shout reached Val’s ears, coming from with in her.

“Stop playing around and eat me, you bitch!”

Val mentally sighed. Well, if you’re so eager.

Val tipped her head back and used her tail to push the Crystal Pony down her throat as she swallowed quickly. Hips and thighs vanished past her lips, followed soon by the mare’s calves. Val allowed herself the briefest of pauses to tickle her meal’s feet before gulping them down as well.

A pleasured shudder ran up her spine. It was a near indescribable feeling: the sensation of toes slipping past her lips, trailing the length of her tongue, and then sliding over the back of it into her throat. Feeling them tickled as they followed their owner into her gullet. But, the mare’s wiggling was quickly dying down, settling into the usual stillness apart from an errant twitch or kick.

Val let out a sigh and smacked her lips. “Mmm, short, but sweet. So very, very sweet.” She licked her chops, hoping to catch any lingering flavor of the mare. She then rolled her head, cricking her neck as a cold breeze blew over her. Another excited shiver ran through her.

The night was young and here she was: two down, one unconscious, and six completely unaware.

“I wonder how long before they notice their friend is missing,” Val said aloud as she uncurled herself and began slithering back the way she came.

She moved slowly, searching though the grass for the phone she had tossed away earlier. It took a few minutes, but she managed to find the device and the battery, the two luckily having landed right next to each other. She put the Crystal Pony’s phone back together and carried it with her as she went back through the hedge.

Val took a deep breath once she was in the field of flowers, still smelling the mare. The scent led her to the mare’s discarded clothing, which the Lamia gathered up. She slipped the phone into the pocket of the letter jacket and then carried the bundle over to the castle wall, leaving it under one of the windows.

Val smirked, thoughts of how she could use the clothes and the phone flitting through her head. She shook them off after a moment, having other matters to tend to.

Val made her way back the stairwell, ascending to the second floor landing, where she found Cheerilee laying exactly where Val had left her. Val sank to the floor, gently picking up Cheerilee’s head. She was still breathing, which was a relief. And while she had a nasty bruise, Val doubted Cheerilee had otherwise injured herself.

Val eased Cheerilee’s head back to the floor and rose. She idly wondered how long it would be before the mare regained consciousness. Hopefully not too long.

Val was contemplating moving the teacher back to her room just to fuck with her head when a sudden racket piqued her interest. The Lamia turned around, head cocked to the side, listening. There was shouting, too far away to make out.

It appeared something of note had happened all on its own.

It was with a heavy heart that Twisty shut off the water in the shower. She sighed and ran a hand through her wet mane, water droplets falling from her body to pitter-patter on the porcelain below. She shook herself, flinging more water, and then reached for a towel. She quickly tied the towel around herself, covering her nude form from prying eyes.

Not that she thought that anyone was actually watching her. That would be ridiculous.

Twisty stepped out of the shower, hissing softly at the cold tiles beneath her feet. She approached the sink and wiped away the fog from the mirror. Once she could see herself, she picked up and plugged in the helpfully place hairdryer. As she used the jet of hot air to dry her wet mane and coat, she couldn’t help but feel as though she had forgotten to do something.

Let’s see: mane, pits, butt. Yeah, got all of those. And I already laid out fresh clothes, not that that matters. Was I supposed to be taking notes? No one else was. Did I forget something at home? If I did, Mom would have called-

Twisty lowered the hairdryer. “Crap,”

She quickly pulled the plug from the wall and left the bathroom. Her suitcase lay open on her bed, some of her clothes laid out beside it. She ignored these as she dug into her suitcase, tossing her other clothes aside and pulling out her wallet, her toothbrush, her hairbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a few pens, a notebook, and her can of pepper spray before finally finding what she wanted.

Twisty pulled her phone from a pocket in the side of the suitcase. She flipped it open to a screen the happily informed her she had a missed call from Mom.

Twisty let out and groan a tossed the phone onto the bed, rubbing her eyes. She had completely forgotten about calling. And now it was well past nine. Twisty chewed her bottom lip and started to pace, the pepper spray still clutched in one hand.

Is Mom even still up right now? If she isn’t and I wake her up she’ll be even more pissed at me. Oh, but what if she’s still up waiting for me to call? I better just call her and get the scolding over with.

Twisty groaned again and was just about to walk over to the side of the bed where her phone had landed when she heard the hinges of her door creak. Slowly, Twisty turned around, seeing a figure dressed in black robes with what looked like a fencer’s mask standing in the doorway.

Twisty tilted her head. “Scary, where did you find that?”

The figure began walking forward.

“Scary?” Twisty said nervously as the figure held up a gloved hand and brandished a crackling taser.

“Scary, that’s not funny,” Twisty said, backing up a few steps and promptly bumping into someone. She spun around to see another figure dressed similarly in robes but with a shark-toothed bandana covering the lower half of his face looming over her.

“Seems pretty funny to me,” the taller figure rasped, holding up a baton.

Twisty stumbled back a step, trapped between the two advancing figures. She looked back and forth between the two, praying they would take off their masks so they could all have a good laugh. They were taking their time, knowing they had her trapped. The tall figure raised his baton as Twisty continued to look back and forth, the can rattling in her hand.

Oh.

Twisty narrowed her eyes and brought up the pepper spray. Bandana froze for an instant, allowing Twisty spray him directing in the face. His mask didn’t seem to afford him much protection as he instantly recoiled, gasping and spiting and clawing at his eyes. Twisty spun back around and threw the can at the other figure. It bounced off their head, stunning them while Twisty charged. She knocked the stumbling figure over, running past them and out into the hall. She ran off in a random direction, hearing shouts behind her.

Blood roared in Twisty’s ears as she ran, taking left and rights at random. Who were those two and what in the hell were they doing? She heard running footsteps behind her and quickly ran to the first door she saw. The door was thankfully unlocked, opening at her touch. She scrambled inside and slammed it shut.

Twisty turned and braced her shoulder against the door. Right next to the door a desk was pushed up against the wall. Twisty grabbed the chair set in front of the desk and jammed it beneath the doorknob. She soon heard running steps in the hall.

“Where did she go?” asked a female voice, sounding panicked.

“I heard a door close,” growled a male voice that soon let out a string of coughs. “She’s here somewhere. Try that one.”

Twisty heard the faint rattle of doorknobs in the hall. The knob on the door in front of her turned, the chair holding it closed as someone tried to open it. There was a bang as someone slammed themselves into the door.

“In here,” she heard the male, presumable the figure with the bandana, say.

“What room is that?”

“Library,”

“And how do we get in there?”

There was a pause before he replied. “There’s another door. You stay here while I circle around. I’ll let you in.”

Twisty swallowed dryly and backed away from the door. She looked around the room, quickly taking it in. It was a fairly large, if dimly lit, room, the ceiling high above her head. Dozens of towering shelves filled the room; some were stuffed to the brim with books while others had noticeable gaps. The shelves did not appear to have been placed in any sort of orderly fashion; instead, they seemed to form a maze of sorts. The room was split into two levels. On the far side of the room, between some of the shelves, Twisty could see a staircase.

The still damp mare took a hesitant step forward. There might be a door on the second level, or she might just trap herself up there. That was assuming she could even get to the staircase. Maybe she should just move the chair blocking the door and take her chances rushing the mare waiting outside.

Before Twisty could come to a decision, the sound of a door opening somewhere above reached her ears. The door closed with a loud bang and the sound of something heavy scraping across the floor followed.

“I know you’re still in here!” Bandana called out. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you soon enough. How about some music while you wait?”

There was a crackle of static before the familiar voice of the DJ reached her ears.

“This next song is probably one of my all time favorites. So let’s get right to it.”

Twisty swallowed again and quickly dove into the maze. She followed the first shelf to its end and then took a right, following the next book-lined path until it took her to another fork. She went right again and hugged herself against a particularity well stocked shelf.

Bandana thunder down the staircase. Twisty’s breath caught in her throat as his hurried pace came dangerously close. But his footsteps went right by her. She resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief and slowly sidled along the bookshelf, heading deeper into the maze

She reached the end of the shelf and quickly traded it for one set perpendicular to it. Peeking around the corner, she heard a loud grunt followed by the sound of another door opening.

“Help me with this,” she heard Bandana say, followed by more heavy scraping.

“Is she still in here?” the female asked.

“Has to be,” Bandana replied. “You go that way.”

After a few moments, a shadow fell across the shelf Twisty had previously hid behind. She quickly ducked back around the corner, trying to keep her rapid breathing quiet.

Come on, Twisty, come on. Think, think!

Twisty turned and looked at the shelf she was currently pressed against. Numerous tomes of varying colors and sizes lined it and Twisty quickly pulled down the thickest one she could reach. She pushed herself up against the shelf again, hefting the book.

She didn’t have to wait long for the shadow’s owner to round the corner. For a split second, both Twisty and the fencer’s mask wearing figure made something resembling eye contact. And then Twisty smashed the book into the side of Fencer’s head.

Fencer reeled back, dropping her taser. Twisty swung the book forward again, hitting Fencer in the stomach. She doubled over and Twisty brought the book down across her back, knocking her to the floor. Twisty dropped the book and quickly scooped up the fallen taser. She ran past the groaning figure on the ground, going back the way she had come, taking the left turn at the fork this time.

Behind her, Fencer yelled out, “Setter!”

Twisty puzzled at the name for a moment, failing to notice Bandana before she crashed into him. Twisty hit the ground hard, feeling the knot on her towel beginning to slip. She pushed herself to her feet just as Bandana, or Setter it seemed, recovered and rose to a kneeling position. He reached out for her, catching her towel.

Twisty took a step forward, but froze as she felt the fuzzy cloth slip from her body. She let out a gasp, hands quickly attempting to cover herself. Setter let out an amused snort, still clutching her towel. Twisty snarled and spun around, jabbing Setter in the neck with the taser. His whole body went ridged and he collapsed like a house of cards.

Twisty dropped the taser and bent down, retrieving her towel. She stood up and gave the still convulsing Setter a swift kick in the stomach. Twisty held up the towel, intent on covering herself once again. Her ambition was short lived.

Fencer rounded the corner and charged her, throwing a wild punch. The cheerleader only catching the other mare’s fist in the towel by sheer luck. Twisty quickly pressed her advantage, shoving Fencer away. She shook the towel out and threw it over Fencer, her attacker tangling herself with thrashing arms.

Twisty turned and ran, rounding another corner and finding a gap in the books. She knocked and few more books from the shelf and began squeezing herself through, trying to ignore the angry shouts behind her. It was a tight squeeze, but she managed to pull herself through. Now outside the book maze, Twisty found herself with a clear path to the staircase. She sprinted to and up the steps.

On the third to last step, Twisty felt her namesake kick in. She tripped and pitched forward, more or less throwing herself onto the landing at the top of the stairs. Picking herself up, Twisty turned to the source of the music. A radio sat on top of a small bookshelf that had been pushed in front of a door.

Twisty scrambled over to it, grunting with effort as she pulled and pushed the heavy shelf away from the door. The radio was blaring, but she could still detect the thumps of feet pounding up the stairs.

When there was enough space for her to conceivably squeeze through, Twisty pulled the door open as far as the shelf allowed. There was a shout behind her, but she ignored it as she clawed her way past the door. When she was halfway through, a hand grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back inside.

Twisty yanked her arm away, panic setting in as she found herself starting to feel stuck. Her arm was pulled again and she balled her fingers into a fist, jabbing wildly. She connected with something and the hand on her arm released her. Grasping the doorframe with her other hand, Twisty half-pulled, half-threw herself forward. She scrapped some of the skin on her belly and rump on the wood of the doorframe, but she made it through.

Twisty fell forward again, but she quickly pushed herself back up. She turned to see a gloved hand reaching through after her. She grabbed the doorknob and wrenched the door, earning a yelp of pain as it crunched on the seeking arm. The limb was quickly withdrawn and Twisty pulled the door closed.

Twisty turned tail and fled down the hallway at a dead run. Again she took left and rights and random, never pausing to think about which direction to take. She ran and ran until her legs and lungs burned. Twisty slowed to a trot and then gradually came to a complete stop.

She leaned against a wall and listened. No shouts reached her ears and no footsteps chased her. All she could hear was the sound of her own labored breath. Slowly, she sank to a sitting position, appreciative of how the stone was cool against her back and under her butt.

Her eyelids felt heavy and Twisty reasoned that closing them for a moment would do no harm. She opened them again, after what could have been a moment or an hour. Her ears twitched as a gentle rustling drifted to them.

Warily, Twisty pushed herself up to a standing position, still standing flush against the wall. The sound of a door opening made her breath catch in her throat. She waited, heart thudding inside her chest.

There was the sound of a door closing and the rustle soon returned. It was rhythmic, and it was coming closer. Soft humming soon joined the scrape. Twisty swallowed past the lump in her throat, legs tensing as she prepared to run again.

Suddenly, a voice spoke, sounding frighteningly close and vaguely familiar. “See, what you’re dealing with is an image problem.”

Another voice spoke, sounding closer and at a more feminine pitch. “What do you mean an image problem?”

The first voice spoke again, closer still. “Well, when ponies see you, they have a knee jerk reaction. No offence intended, but you are, well, all scaly and you’re big, and you have all those sharp teeth.”

It hit Twisty; that was Reuben’s voice. But, whomever he was talking to didn’t sound like Miss Cheerilee.

Twisty shook her head and quickly covered herself as best she could, stepping away from the wall. The voices seemed to be coming from around a corner a few paces away from her. She took a steadying breath and stepped around it, already blushing with embarrassment.

She almost ran right into a fluffy velvet robe. She took a step back and looked up to see a perplexed reptilian face looking back at her. She took a few more hurried steps, tripping over her own feet and falling on her plush rump. She stared up at the creature before her, blood running cold in her veins.

“W-who are you?” she asked, voice trembling.

The creature’s scaly features softened into a reassuring smile. “Why, I’m Mrs. Morlin, but just call me Val. I think we met a little earlier. Although, you had more clothes then.”

Twisty’s sense of modesty caught up with her and she looked away, trying in vain to cover herself again. Val bent down, the bathrobe clad Lamia stopping when her eyes were level with the sitting Twisty.

“Locked out of your room, right? It happens to everyone, dear. Why don’t we find you some clothes and-”

“I wasn’t locked out of my room,” Twisty said quickly, cutting Val off. “I was chased out by these two… psychos. They’re still here somewhere.”

Val tilted her head. “Psychos? Are you sure it wasn’t some of your friends, playing some sort of prank?”

“I’m sure,” Twisty said, getting to her feet, Val rising with her. “I have to find Miss Cheerilee. Rueben!” Twisty called, looking past Val, but only seeing an empty hallway. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Reuben, the stallion you were just talking to.”

Val chuckled guiltily and looked away. “Ah, I’m afraid I was… talking to myself. Working on a bit of my book, saying it aloud helps. I’m guess I was using his voice by accident.” Val shook her head and looked back to Twisty. “Anyway, I suppose if there really are a couple of crazies running around, we should go find your friends. And stick together, of course.” Val smirked. “I’ve watched enough horror movies to know to stick together.”

Twisty let out a relieved sigh. “So you do believe me?”

Val chuckled. “Well, you are either dedicated to an elaborate and personally humiliating prank, or there really is something going on. Either way, you have my interest.” Val cleared her throat. “But, I really think we should find you some clothes first. You don’t want to run into some murderer in the nude.”

Twisty nodded, timidly covering herself again. “Yeah, uh, would there be clothes in any of these rooms?”

“There might be,” Val slithered towards a nearby door.

Twisty was about to take a step after her when she hesitated. Something felt… off. Val seemed almost unnervingly calm about running into a naked and terrified mare late at night. Twisty shook herself and quickly followed the Lamia. She probably just had a level head on her shoulders.

Val opened the door and peered inside the room. “I think we have something here. Follow me, dear.” Val beckoned Twisty as she slithered inside the room. The pink mare followed her inside, the door closing behind her.