All Nightmare Long

by Horse Voice

Rating: teen
Tags: Horror, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1582

Mortals have always gazed upon the stars in wonder. But sometimes, the stars gaze back.

Mortals have always gazed upon the stars in wonder. But sometimes, the stars gaze back.

* * *

Dramatic reading by ShadowOfCygnus.
And by ThelifeonCloud9!
Special thanks to the Writeoff crew for pre-reading.

Published 2018-05-18 18:10:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-05-18 18:10:07 UTC

All Nightmare Long

As the rising moon banishes the dusk and the summer warmth gives way to the coolness of night, I stand alone at the edge of my tower-house's rooftop, watching the shadows grow across the land. Once, I would have been nagged by a sense that I was wasting time and should be studying, or finishing chores, or turning in early. Now, I just want to stand and gaze, forgetting about tomorrow as the Earth is made a veiled beauty. The woods, the town, the grassy hills, the distant lights of Canterlot—they're all made dreamlike by silvery moonlight. Though nopony can be alone for too long, just a little time on a night like this brings me the elusive sense of wonder the poets write about.

The moon is near its apogee now, and its features are unusually clear tonight—the dark craters at its north and west, the milky halo around its edge, the nearest starry neighbors twinkling...

I blink once, twice. This is something I haven't seen in years: Four bright stars, forming a sort of spiral pattern around the moon. The last time I saw this, all those years ago, I was in no mood to stargaze. I'll always remember the words that kept running through my mind that night: On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape...

The movements of the stars really are fascinating. It's been a decade, and I don't remember seeing those four since. After Princess Luna's return, everypony was too busy to think about astronomy, and it never occurred to me to look these stars up. I'll make a point of it tomorrow. It really is unusual how they pulse brighter, and...

Well, this is even stranger. Now they pulse one by one. I hold my breath and stare. Yes—one goes off, then another, then the next. I watch for a minute, then two just to be sure. The stars are pulsing in a pattern, moving counterclockwise around the moon.

I gallop to my telescope and aim it toward them, trying not to shake from excitement. Through the lenses, I can make out more features of these stars. They're all pure white and look larger than those around them. In fact, their brilliance threatens to dim the ordinary stars around them by sheer comparison.

But now they don't pulse. They're still, like any others. No, that's wrong—a normal star will twinkle as the atmosphere passes before it, but these do not. This is another phenomenon I've never heard of.

Whatever was making them pulse, I've missed the end of it. Very annoying. I return to the edge of the parapet, looking up again with naked eyes.

Pulse... Pulse...

They're doing it again! Back to the telescope.

And now they're still.

I turn away and begin pacing. Why does the telescope make a difference? And how is this even possible? Distant stars are far apart even if they look close together in a gazer's vision, so no natural link could form between them. The odds of them all turning to supernovas at once are too much against.

I feel eyes staring at the back of my head.

This sense is one of the persistent mysteries science hasn't yet explained. It's that indescribable feeling that makes you turn around just in time to see somepony quickly turn away, for you have just caught her looking at you. So, I turn and look around.

No one is there.

Pulse... Pulse...

The feeling of being watched persists. As I search around for the intruding eyes, the four stars tease the edge of my vision. At last, I look up and focus on them again.

Now the feeling is gone.

Pulse... Pulse...

My mind's playing tricks. It must be later than I thought. I should go to bed and look at the star charts tomorrow.

I turn and walk toward the rooftop entrance.

No need to hurry.

None whatsoever.

... I'm being watched.

No I'm not. Clear your head, Twilight.

At the stairwell, I can't help turning to look at the four strangers one more time.

Pulse... Pulse...

A harmless natural phenomenon, of course. Strange, but harmless. No cause for illogical concern. Those hairs standing on end are from the chill of the night. My descent down the stairs is only quickened because I look forward to being in bed.

Soon I'm under the sheets and dozing, breathing gently, sleep overtaking me...

* * *

I drift upward, weightless. Down there is my body, fast asleep. Now up, up, through the tower-house's floors and into the sky. The town, the fields and woods grow small below me as I rise, faster and faster. In a moment these vanish into the distance, and only the broadest features of the land are visible. Even Canter Peak seems no more than a little spindle, jutting up from a blotchy abstraction of greens and browns. All around and far away, I see the curvature of the Earth, growing more pronounced second by second.

There's no danger in a dream, but I'm curious about my destination. I will myself to turn around, and before me is the moon, closer than nearly anyone has seen. How could I ever describe it just with words? Here, there's an abstraction of craters within craters. There, a rolling mountain range casts long shadows over the edges of a lunar sea. With each second I am closer, more details become clear. All this lifeless desolation might have been hideous, if it were not so beautiful.

But now there's a presence here.

From behind the four compass points of the moon emerge four lights, all at once pulsing with overwhelming brilliance.

Wait—the light is changing. It doesn't spread evenly from its four sources, but strikes out in narrow beams, one from each. They sweep across empty space and converge on my dream-body. When they meet me, my drifting stops, and I'm held immobile under their glare.

And it is a glare, for though there's no sound here, I'm struck with a sense that I've been accused.

I would shy from the lights, if there were anything to brace against. Instead I pose a query, not by speaking but by a concentration of thought—What do you want?

Some outside force turns me around to face the Earth again, and the lights, thankfully, are out of sight, though their glare is still on me. Light from the sun opposite that world burns bloody around its edge, forming a halo of Tartarian flame. Silhouetted in this, an enormous alicorn rises, and with a beat of its tremendous wings and a flash from its horn, it sends a shadow from beneath itself, which broadens outward in every direction. In a moment, a darkness far deeper than night has shrouded the whole face of the Earth.

Now the alicorn flies toward me with a speed only possible in dreams, instantly stopping when it's near enough to reach out and touch. I stare at its face, by mind blank in bewilderment at what I see there. The alicorn only stares back. Over a long moment, realization forms in my mind.

This is what they brought me here to see. The more I look at the face of that alicorn, the more clearly I see it is my own.

* * *

Awake... bolt from bed... cast magic light... breathe... breathe...

Not real. Not real. Just anxiety causing nightmares. Luna can't be everywhere at once, after all.

My breath steadies at last. I really should go back to sleep. I can wait until morning to look up those four stars.

No I can't.

The bedside table isn't big enough for all my reference books, so there's a small bookcase against the near wall. I pull the volume of star charts and look for a pattern of four that conjoin every ten years, appearing to form around the moon.

First, I look for any leads on the contents page. Then in the index—once, twice. Finally I scan every inch of every page, my hope for the least connection to sane reality fading with each turn of a leaf.

The last page turns. I check the date on the inside cover. It was printed two years ago, with the fullest extent of modern astronomical knowledge. Now, all possible conclusions but one are eliminated.

The four stars do not exist.

* * *

It's day. They're gone. But they'll be back.

I spent the night forcing my eyes to stay open. If I dream, they'll accuse me again. I had first thought of hiding in the cellar, but I know it would be useless.

Now I sit in bed, looking all around for any place I might have missed in my frenzied effort to scrawl the ancient sigils of protection over the walls, floor, and ceiling. Yesterday I would have dismissed them as relics of a less rational age. But rationality no longer exists in my world, and these things are all I have to protect myself.

They are angry—angry because I stopped the Nightmare. They waited a millennium to release it. They can spend millennia coming back to torment me. They want another vessel for the Nightmare, and if I break, their plans and their revenge will be complete.

A noise now—a knocking, and a voice calling my name. An obvious trick. They can't fool me. I'll stay safe here and fight them forever. They'll never have me.

Never.

Never.