Lusus Naturae

1.

a deformed person or thing;

freak.

'I can't forget it. The screaming, I mean.'

'How so?'

'I… I hear it at night when I’m in bed. It’s like some kind of horrible orchestra right outside my bedroom door.'

Dr. Blot Hermane reclined slightly in his rustic, burgundy chair, an inaudible sigh escaping his lips. His client, a disheveled magenta mare by the name of Cheerilee sat across him, her once lively emerald eyes bloodshot and puffy. She"d been witness to perhaps Ponyville’s greatest tragedy in recent memory; The Ponyville Schoolhouse Burning as it was dubbed by the townsponies. While unclear to the Ponyville authorities as to what exactly caused the fire, Cheerilee practically labelled herself as the arsonist.

'Cheerilee, you need to understand that you couldn’t have possibly stopped the fire. By the time anypony noticed the smoke that morning…' Blot decided not finish the sentence, noticing the tears fighting their way out the corner of Cheerilee’s eyes.

'It’s not about stopping the fire, doctor,' Cheerilee choked out through her tears. 'It’s about the what ifs. What if I started it somehow? A loose paper in the wrong place, a candle I forgot to put out. I left them alone, doctor. I. Left. Them.’ She buried her face into her hooves and openly cried out in the office.

Blot carefully repositioned himself, sagging his torso slightly and relaxing his forelegs. He loosened his shoulders and his facial expression, mustering a soft smile. Sympathetic, open and caring but above all:

Understanding. He thought.

He let the school-mare cry. Something he’d learnt over his years as a private therapist; expression is almost always better than suppression. The sooner she accepted what had happened and that she wasn’t responsible, the better.

Rays of light from a nearby window illuminated Cheerilee as she wept, drenching Blot’s oaken desk in light. Every aspect of his office’s decor had been hoof-picked. Cozy (yet tasteful) furniture, soft carpeting, unimposing bookcases, plenty of windows.

Presentation is everything.

Even the doctor’s appearance had been finely crafted and tuned for his clients. Clean, side-combed burgundy mane. Well washed, precisely trimmed pristine white coat. His bright, turquoise eyes almost seemed to shine from their sockets. Had he possessed a horn or wings, they too would have been well shined and plucked respectfully. He practically screamed ‘clean’. Being well kept felt almost like an obligation.

Lead by example.

‘The fire is in the past Cheerilee,’ Blot started, after Cheerilee’s cries and sniffles seemed to wind down. ‘Agonizing over what might have happened isn’t the way forward. Nopony blames you for what happened. You were out of that classroom for barely half an hour.

‘I want you to spend time with the ponies closest to you this week. Be it your coltfriend, family, friends or otherwise; lend their strength and love, it’ll help you come to terms with what happened. I’d like to see you again, the same time next week, as usual.’ he finished, calmly rising from his seat.

‘What if they don’t want to see me?’ Cheerilee whispered.

Blot circled with practiced grace to Cheerilee’s chair, and rested hoof on her shoulder. ‘Cheerilee, I can promise you, they will want to see you. You are loved by many ponies, they’re all waiting for you to reach out. Indulge them, and you’ll reap the benefits too.’

With a weak smile, Cheerilee rose from her seat and to Blot’s surprise, wrapped her forehooves around the doctor’s neck and pulled him into an embrace. ‘Thank you doctor, that means more than you know,’ she said, slowly releasing him from the hug.

‘Please Cheerilee, allow me to walk you outside.’ Blot said as he led the still puffy eyed school-mare out his office and through his small town house. The rest of his home, much like his office, beamed of coziness. Antique paintings, well varnished tables and the likes decorated much of the household, contributing to the doctor’s concept of ‘atmospheric therapy’.

‘I’ll let you know how the week went next time, doc,’ Cheerilee said, as Blot opened the front door. She produced small coin purse and picked out five gold bits, which she promptly offered up on an outstretched hoof.

‘Thanks Cheerilee, I look forward to our next meeting,’ Blot said, accepting the coins. ‘Stay safe and have a great week.’ he finished, flashing an almost trademarked smile, which Cheerilee returned upon leaving the house.

Blot closed the door behind the mare and immediately placed a hoof on his cutie mark; that of an ink blotch. His skin stung and crawled under his fur. He stumbled haphazardously towards a nearby chair, dropping his newly earned bits on the floor. His scalp felt as though it were aflame; a feeling which slowly spider-webbed its way down his spine and through his body.

An insatiable hunger emerged from the depths of his bowels, emanating extreme waves of nausea and stomach aches, wracking his body in pain. It was all he could do to stifle a cry, lest Cheerilee or some other pony hear him from the outside world.

They can’t know. They can’t see.

He shut tight his eyes and gritted his teeth together and fought desperately against the thing inside, screaming to be let loose.

An eternity passed.

And for a time, he won.

Or rather,

he survived.

‘Apple Bloom, would ye please kindly get yer flank out from up there,’ Applejack called out to her younger sister, who had somehow managed to climb up to the top of the Sweet Apple Acres’ barn. ‘Ah know things’ve been hard recently, with the school and all but-’

‘How can ye know Applejack? How could ye possibly know? Yer fibbin’ Applejack. Yer fibbin’.’ Apple Bloom cried out from her perch, her vibrant amber eyes lined with tears.

The question took Applejack by surprise. How did she actually understand? How could she possibly know the depths of her younger sibling’s trauma. Apple Bloom and her friends had been just outside the schoolhouse when the fire started from inside. The fire must’ve started nearby the front door, since when Sweetie Belle tried to use her horn to twist the door handle, it refused to budge.

By the time the windows caved into the heat, every filly inside had already succumbed to the smoke. Apple Bloom had heard their screams, desperate and clear. She had stayed back, trying to break the windows, while her friends headed into town, clamouring for help from anypony who would listen.

Her teacher, Cheerilee, had arrived at the high crescendo of the screams, but by then, it was far too late.

‘Apple Bloom, we’re all worried about you. Macintosh is all up an’ disturbed, pacin’ around in the house, waitin’ for you. Granny’s made ye some tea, yer friends are even waitin’ fer you. Apple Bloom, Ah’m worried about you.’ Applejack pleaded to her sister, who having heard her sister’s concern, crept slowly down from the top of the barn and into the welcoming embrace of her sibling.

‘Ah’m sorry sis, Ah’m so sorry.’ cooed Apple Bloom, firmly attached to her sister.

‘Don’t be, it’s okay. Just please, don’t scare us again like that. Now come along, yer friends are waitin’ for ye in the house.’ with that, Apple Bloom made for the farmhouse.

Applejack sighed.

Therapy.

Her friends had convinced her to go, after all that had happened in her life. From losing her parents to the daily stress of managing the orchard, Applejack had plenty of mentally, physically and emotionally strenuous things to deal with. She hated the idea of it, but, admittedly, she had a lot that she still needed to let go of.

Too much, maybe.

She thought back on her younger sibling, who reminded her of herself when she was but a filly. Would she too need help for what she’s seen? Applejack shuddered at the thought and turned her attention towards the entrance of the orchard.

As she left the property, Applejack couldn’t help but take in the sight of the nearby setting sun. Golden, pristine rays of light bathed her as she walked along the road leading to town. In the distance she spotted the blackened remnants of the Ponyville schoolhouse, a jarring contrast to the rest of the town’s colourful, lively buildings.

A chill ran down her spine.

Ah’d better get a move on, wouldn’t want to be walking home in the dark.

Dr. Blot Hermane awoke in a cold sweat, on the surprisingly comfortable carpeted flooring of his living room.

‘Buck, what time is it?’ The disheveled earth pony slurred as he slowly gathered his bearings. A quick glance to the window brought fruition to one of his worst fears.

A client would be arriving soon.

He wasn’t ready.

The weakened doctor stumbled towards his bedroom, and practically collapsed onto his sink. His mane lay without care to the side of his muzzle, drenched in sweat. His eyes bulged, bloodshot with swollen capillaries.

Fortunately, the hunger had left him.

For now.

He ran the tap of his sink and submerged his mane underneath, desperately trying to wash out the sweat and simultaneously wash his face. His frantic self care was interrupted by a rapping at his front door.

‘Doctor Hermane? Are ye home? It’s Applejack, from Sweet Apple Acres, Ah have an appointment.’ called a distinct, accented voice.

Buck.

Blot slicked his hair to the side and dried his hair with a towelette, before rushing to the front door, stepping on the golden bits he had dropped earlier.

With a deep breath and a lackluster smile, he opened the door. Outside stood a clearly annoyed orange mare, wearing what he considered a rather tasteful stetson.

‘Hi, Ms. Applejack, please come in! I was just getting ready for you.’ he stuttered, moving to the side, allowing the flustered farm-mare into his home.

‘Ye got a nice place here, doc. Seems like ye dropped some bits on the floor here though.’ Applejack stated, with a nod to the floor.

She’s an observant one. Buck.

‘Uh yes, I-I must have dropped them earlier when my last client left,’ the exasperated therapist stammered out, frantically picking up the bits from the floor and dropping them off on a nearby table. ‘Please, follow me to my office.’ he finished, as he motioned Applejack along through his antique littered home.

Once they entered his office, Blot beckoned for the mare to take a seat, as he circled to the back of his desk.

‘Now, Ms. Applejack, how may I help you?’ Blot said, having finally gathered himself.

‘Ah was hopin’ you’d be the one to answer that exact question, doc,’ Applejack replied with a blush. ‘And please, call me Applejack.’

Blot assumed a marginally more authoritative position by tensing his shoulders and moving closer to the desk. The farm-mare in front of him reacted in kind, anxiously adjusting her steston and crossing her forehooves.

Their eyes met and while Applejack’s eyes erratically avoided his, Blot stood fast and kept his gaze.

‘Well, Applejack, why do you feel you came today?’ he asked, maintaining eye contact.

‘Ah um… Ah guess because of my friends. They’ve been urgin’ me to go for a while. They think Ah’m too stressed out.’ she replied, eyes darting around the room her shoulders shifting uncomfortably.

‘And what do you think? Are you stressed?’ queried Blot, refusing to break eye contact.

‘Ah… Ah think so. Ah tend to and manage most of the Acres. Mah brother, Big Macintosh is a great help, but he doesn’t have much of a mind fer business and all that,’ Applejack rolled her shoulders back and slowly relaxed in her seat, once again meeting the doctor’s gaze. ‘Ah just sometimes feel like it’s a lot fer one mare to manage on her own y’know, and of course bein’ the Element of Honesty and all.’

Blot allowed himself an internal pat on the back.

The eye contact had worked.

Blot untensed his shoulders and reclined ever so slightly in his chair, eliciting a similar response from Applejack, who visibly calmed at the sight of his change of position.

‘That’s a very reasonable thing to feel Applejack. Running an orchard is no small job, and I’d imagine it can become quite strenuous, managing the whole place by yourself. Couldn’t you find someone to help you manage the business? An assistant of some kind perhaps?’

‘Well, Granny Smith used to help me, but she’s gettin’ on in the years, and Ah can see that time is startin’ to do its work on her. She doesn’t walk much anymore, she’s mostly just bedridden,’ Applejack said, her eyes drooping to the floor. ‘And besides, Apple Bloom, mah younger sister, is still too young to help take charge, y’know.’

‘I can see that your family means a lot to you Applejack. How has Apple Bloom been since the incident at the schoolhouse?’ Blot asked.

Tears began to well up her eyes.

‘Ah want to help her, y’know. But… Ah feel like she’s trapped behind a wall of glass or somethin’. Ah just can’t get through to her. She saw so much that day, too much fer a filly of her age,’ she started. ‘Too much fer anypony really, Ah think. We’ve lost so much doc. Our parents when she was real young, and now this...

‘How does that affect a filly like her? Can’t be good for her mental health, y’know.’ Applejack finished, beckoning to her head. She was clearly uncomfortable with the concept of mental health, and therapy in general it seemed. Yet, she showed up to this meeting.

Blot admired that about the mare; her willpower.

‘Why do you feel like you can’t get through to her? You seem to have a strong relationship, the two of you. You’ve been through a lot together.’ Blot said quietly, giving the air to the hardy mare sitting across him.

‘Ah, well, today she…’ Applejack stammered, struggling to stifle the tears. ‘She was on top of our barn. Ah… Ah was mighty worried she’d do somethin’, y’know. Ah only barely got her down from up there. She looked so scared y’know, scared of everythin’. Even me, Ah think.’

Applejack rose a hoof to wipe away the oncoming tears.

She fought an uphill battle in quelling the tide.

Blot’s features contorted in sympathy. Applejack wondered what went on in that head of his. He had to deal with the pain of so many as a profession. It’s a job that even she, the Element of Honesty wondered if she could pull off.

An unanticipated sense of respect filled Applejack.

‘How did you feel when your parents passed, Applejack?’ the doctor asked, pulling himself closer to the desk.

Applejack paused, casting a pained glance towards the ceiling.

‘Afraid. More than anythin’, Ah felt afraid. Afraid of mah new responsibility especially. Ah had a little sister to care fer. Ah cut mahself off from the world for a while after it happened. Ah thought it would slow things down, y’know. Stop the world from crashin’ in, at least for a while.’

Doctor Blot Hermane found himself genuinely taken back by the strength of his client. So much responsibility for a mare not a day older than himself.

He felt a sense of comradery with Applejack.

It terrified him.

Whatever evil lurked beneath his skin brought with it an unfathomable weight upon his shoulders. The responsibility of keeping the pain and the hunger to himself, sometimes felt as though it were almost too much to handle.

He’d battled with his affliction for months. It had begun suddenly on one late evening. He had awoken in a cold sweat, terrible pain lacing his body. He’d tumbled out of bed, desperately gasping for air. His hooves had clawed desperately at the wooden flooring of his bedroom, which was, by all accounts of a totally different atmosphere than the rest of his home. Rather than fancy antiques and paintings, his bedroom was decidedly plain and ‘post-modern’, with vivid colours and efficient use of spacing throughout the room.

He had pulled his bedside table to the floor, shattering his lamp in the process, shrouding him in darkness, nought for the moonlight.

On that night, the thing inside of him had taken control.

His skin had torn, allowing for the pale, hairless thing hiding beneath to emerge. Bones had popped and snapped, malforming into something unrecognizable by ponykind. His once well structured muzzle had shattered and reformed into a gaping maw of endless, jutting fangs. The flesh on his back could no longer contain the bone within and as such, his spine broke through the skin and glistened in the moonlight.

He remembered little of that night, asides seeing himself in the mirror briefly after his transformation and the terrible, inconceivable hunger that had overtaken him. The next morning he had awoken in blood soaked bed sheets and after reading the news had discovered that a local farm animal had been eviscerated and devoured late the night before.

‘Uh, doc? Ye all there?’ Applejack queried, snapping her therapist out of his trance. ‘Ye went quiet for a while there.’

‘Oh, sorry Applejack. I was just taking in what you had said,’ he began. ‘Right now, Apple Bloom is feeling exactly how you felt when you were younger. She needs you more than ever. Don’t let her drown herself in isolation. You can be her lifeboat; in fact, I’d say she needs you to be just that.

A small bead of sweat began to run down Blot’s forehead.

He could feel the hunger slowly surfacing.

It was starting again.

‘I think this is a good point for us to wrap up. This week, I want you to focus on Apple Bloom and yourself, rather than the farm. Bring friends over, connect with family but most importantly, don’t stress yourself out. I’d like you to come back next week and give me the full run down of how the week went.’ Blot finished, rising with practiced if strained grace from his chair.

Applejack followed him out of the office and up to the front door. The house was noticeably darker than when they’d arrived, the sun had likely set, she realized.

‘And Applejack, off the record as your therapist, I’d like you to know that you can drop by here whenever you’d like. I understand what it feels like to have everything crash in around you.’ Applejack smiled softly and nodded at the doctor, before producing a handful of bits, which she promptly passed over.

‘Don’t drop these, doc,’ she teased, with a genuine smile. ‘And thank ye for yer help today, Ah must admit, Ah really do feel better.’

‘I’m glad to hear that Applejack. Stick with it.’ Blot laughed half-heartedly, now sweating profusely under the cover of the darkness.

With that, Applejack exited the home, leaving Blot alone in the void around him. He collapsed immediately after the door shut, spasming violently, and once again spilling his bits all over the floor.

The hunger was all enveloping this time, and he could feel the beast within practically bursting at the seams of his skin. He clung desperately to his normal state, out of fear. Fear of what he might do. Fear for Applejack’s safety.

She can't be far from here. I have to hang on, if only for her sake.

He stifled an endless scream and battled with the affliction for what felt like an eternity.

Before finally, he felt the first of many bones snap.

He screamed.

Applejack walked home, cast into a spur of deep thought on her recent therapy session. She was amazed by how well it had gone. Although the doctor occasionally fazed into trances of what she could only assume to be deep consideration, their conversation had been truly helpful.

She reflected on his final comment before she’d left into the night and resolved to visit him as a friend off the clock sometime in the week.

She looked forward to spending more time on herself for a change.

Perhaps she’d try to disseminate the work load between herself, Big Mac and Granny Smith. Maybe it’d even help the old pony get back into form.

She stopped suddenly and glanced around her surroundings, an icy web covering her heart.

Where in the hay am I?

She’d somehow, in her spur of thought led herself to a very quiet Ponyville neighbourhood. She seemed to be somewhere in town, however, couldn’t quite place the street. Several housing areas had to be rebuilt since Tirek’s attack on the settlement a few years ago, changing their looks drastically. Moreover, entirely new housing areas which she hadn’t quite explored had also popped up, filled with ponies from all over Equestria, who had flocked to the town.

Rumors of more ‘unsavoury ponies surfaced in Applejack’s memory and she felt a wave of dread wash over her.

For the first time in her life, Applejack felt afraid to walk the streets of Ponyville at night.

‘Well, nothin’ a spot of backtrackin’ couldn’t fix.’ she said, allowing the escape of method chuckle.

‘There certainly won’t be any backtracking for you tonight, missy.’ somepony in the dark sneered, stopping Applejack in her tracks.

She spun around, and saw the silhouettes of two ponies in the dark of an alleyway to her left. Her heart dropped into her stomach, performed a loop and returned to its origin.

‘Ah’m sorry y’all, didn’t mean to disturb yer evening,’ she called out, feigning a weak smile. ‘Ah’ll just be headin’ home now.’

Applejack turned and before she could react, felt something hard and cold connect with her temple.

Darkness.

Applejack awoke and almost regurgitated her lunch due to the nauseating spinning of her world. She tried desperately to make sense of her surroundings, but found herself struggling to focus.

A warm sensation tingled the side of her head and she tasted an unmistakable tinge of metal in her mouth.

Ah’m bleedin’, what happened?

She could hear muffled, fuzzy voices somewhere in the distance, shouting.

Two ponies. An argument.

As the ringing in her ears slowly subsided, she overheard parts of the conversation.

‘You dumb buck… dead… honesty…’

She heard the voices get closer and the tone of the conversation change as a trio of unkempt ponies loomed over her.

‘Told ya I didn’t kill her, I buckin’ told ya. I felt her breathin’ when I lugged her into the alley.’ stated a stallion with a deep, gritty voice and an almost recognizable accent.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, fair enough,’ another voice chimed, who she recognized as whomever had called out to her in the first place. ‘Listen missy, you’ve found yourself in quite a predicament here. Don’t bother screaming for anyone, my unicorn friend here has your whole body in paralysis.’ he sneered, nodding towards the third member of the trio, who she could faintly make out as a dainty grey, slightly built unicorn.

A large, powerfully built stallion who she identified as the the pony with the accent, stepped forward and gave her a lofty smack across the jaw, snapping her awake.

‘You awake yet, ma’am?’ he laughed, before receiving a condescending look from his comrade.

‘Don’t rough up the goods. We haven’t even had our fun yet.’ he muttered, casting the battered mare an insidious grin. He seemed to be a well kept pony, light teal coat, neatly combed violet mane and somehow, that made him evermore sickening.

Applejack felt a sickly shiver run down her spine at the use of the word ‘fun’. She thought back to Apple Bloom, who probably sat at home, waiting for her return. She thought of her friends, Big Mac, Sweet Apple Acres, even Winona.

She tried to scream.

Nothing emerged from her throat, save a desperate cough.

‘Let’s get started,’ the well kept earth pony said, grabbing Applejack’s mane with his teeth and throwing her muzzle first to the floor.

She tried to move, but found herself still too dazed. She must have suffered a serious concussion.

Or maybe that unicorn fella has somethin’ mighty nasty on me. Mah legs feel like glue.

She felt a hoof wrap itself around one of her back legs and desperately tried to fight back; resist in any way possible, but found herself unable to.

Putrid, steaming breath brushed against her neck.

'Fun time.’ stated her captor with an edge sinister glee.

She awaited her fate.

It never came.

Instead, she felt the hoof wrapped around her back leg get violently ripped away.

An ear-splitting scream brought her back to reality.

She suddenly felt power return to her body and scrambled away from her would-be attackers. She turned to face the source of the scream and felt all colour leave her face.

The unicorn who had previously enchanted her, had been eviscerated. She could faintly make out the remnants of his face and horn, but the rest of him was covered in what she could only assume to be his own innards.

To his side, the well kept pony held a hoof desperately over a bloodied stump of where his foreleg had once been. Somewhere in the dark, back section of the alley, she saw his larger comrade desperately clawing at the dirt, mouthing the words ‘help me’, before being dragged into the depths of the blackness.

Applejack, in pure shock, had begun to crawl away, towards the light of a distant streetlamp.

‘Please. Please don’t leave me here with that thing,’ she heard the stallion still clawing at his stump leg cry out from behind her. ‘I’m so sorry for what happened. Really, I am. I just-’ he never finished his sentence, as she saw a thing of nightmare pounce from the shadows and onto the broken body of her attacker.

Pale, hairless skin drenched in gore, covered the entirety of whatever monstrosity had eviscerated her would be assailants. The horror easily tripled the size of even Big Macintosh and she could make out hideously malformed claws rather than hooves sprouting from the end of the creature’s frontmost appendages.

Applejack stood a mere three meters from the beast, when it relieved the attacker of his esophagus with the use of its flesh-flecked maw.

It slowly turned its malformed parody of a muzzle towards Applejack.

Minutes slowed into hours. Days. Weeks.

Applejack stood motionless, eyes locked with the twin abysses on the creature’s face. The monster twitched and spasmed and closed shut its endless rows of teeth.

It… Recognizes me.

The horror, with a twinge of uncertainty, retreated into the unabating darkness, a trail of blood left by its gore-drenched body.

Applejack stumbled onto the street, covered in a coagulation of her own blood and that of somepony else, and cried into the night as loudly as she could.

Author's Note

Hey everyone who managed to read to the end of first chapter. I plan on making this story an ongoing series of chapter uploads, something like one or two per week.

Maybe three at most, depending on how motivated I feel.

Hope you enjoyed it!

This chapter was spruced up by sevenofeleven.