Author's Note

This is my first published fic yet the first I've completed and submitted so expect my quality to go up over time.

Prologue

You lay on the seat and sulk around in sadness. Another vile and disturbing day at work haunts the back of your mind. The sight of blood and gore creeps in and around your mind wreaking havoc all around. You hear the train approaching the station in Canterlot and a wave relief sweeps over you as you think

‘I finally get to go home’. You grab your bag and walk up to the train and climb in. You stumble around to your sleeper car and lay the suitcase on your bed. A pony walks into the car behind you and asks you to present your ticket. You hand it over and the colt inspects it for a good few seconds then hands it back.

“Have a nice trip Anonymous,” he says before closing the door behind himself. You dread these train rides because they are long and boring not to mention your fear of heights and riding along the mountain that Canterlot is built upon always makes you queasy. You lay down and shut the blinds in your car so you don’t have to see the cliff's edge as your train begins its descent down the mountain. As you lay there that same familiar wave of fear sweeps over you as the train makes its way down the winding track. All you can do now is hope everything goes as normal.
After 30 minutes of terror going down the mountain, you hear the speaker on the train say

“We are now a straight shot to Baltimare we should be there in 38 hours”. You moan at the prospect of going any longer on this train. A few hours go by before you decide to get up and trot around, so you walk over to the meal car. You sit down and a waitress pony comes over and takes your order. You order a salad and some water, then as quick as she showed up she was off again. You sit for another few minutes and finally your food is placed on top of your table. You pull out your wallet and you finally pay the mare then you just sit there. You can't eat, all you have is flashbacks from work creeping in of disembowelled ponies, ponies who have been stabbed in various places, and some to vividly disturbing to describe. You take your food back to your car and lie there in absolute horror. You can’t take another day of analyzing how ponies died. When you get back to Baltimare you decide to quit your job as a crime scene investigator. You decide to sleep off the rest of your trip, and hopefully, things go better when you get home.