Cheerilee's Garden: a Metallic Touch

Chapters

Silver on the Case
An Illuminating Visit
Driller Killer
Stop the Play
The Last Day of School

Silver on the Case

So yeah, we now had a school play to rehearse for. Fun. And to make matters worse, it was the tale of Reginald the Sly, an old folk tale about how an outlaw bumped off not only the King, but his entire court in a number of ways. An odd choice for a school group, but Cheerilee had her reasons, I suppose.

Myself and Diamond had been given the role of diplomats to the King. My character was called Silver Tongue, and seemed to be something of an opportunist. In comparison, Apple Bloom had got the part of the King, which had most of us snorting given her accent, which sounded totally out of place for a King.

One day, we were rehearsing the opening scene yet again. Despite the fact we had run it at least a hundred times, Cheerilee insisted we keep running the scene for luck. Apple Bloom started us off.

“All of this is meaningless. We still have to put a stop to this Reginald the Sly, and ah don’t care who does it, or how,” she began, her voice starting to slide away from firm regal tones to the farm filly she really was. It was incredibly difficult not to laugh, so in order to not laugh, I immediately responded with my line in the script. What did amaze me was how Cheerilee had managed to write the entire thing in one night. That must have required a LOT of coffee. Or failing that, the stock of booze which most of us suspected she had, but had never been able to locate.

“But my king, I maintain that violence is not the answer,” I started, trying to maintain a level tone and a vaguely important sounding voice. “If you would just let your royal advisor and I work on a diplomatic solution, then I am sure that-” Something clearly wasn’t right, as Apple Bloom didn’t respond. She was meant to interrupt me at that point, so I repeated the line. “If you would just let your royal advisor and I work on a diplomatic solution, then I am sure that-”

“Apple Bloom, you missed your cue!” Cheerilee called. “You’re supposed to respond with, ‘No! Do you think ah know not what goes on when ah have my back turned? The two of you will stay right here. Sir Lance-a-lot the Brave, Ah entrust this task to you. Find this villain and bring him back here, so he may face my judgement.’ Shall we run the scene again?”

“Yes, miss Cheerilee!” Apple Bloom replied, flustered. “Sorry miss Cheerilee!” She then started the scene again, slamming her hoof down on the table between us. In the finished play, we would be seated at a round table, but that was currently under assembly at the Ponyville Theatre, so a plain square table would have to do for now.

“All of this is meaningless. We still have to put a stop to this Reginald the Sly, and ah don’t care who does it, or how,” she ran again, in the exact same tone as before.

“But my king, I maintain that violence is not the answer. If you would just let your royal advisor and I work on a diplomatic solution, then I am sure that-”

“No!” Apple Bloom exclaimed, this time coming in correctly and on time. Do you think ah know not what goes on when ah have my back turned? The two of you will stay right here. Sir Lance-a-lot the Brave, Ah entrust this task to you. Find this villain and bring him back here, so he may face my judgement!”

Scootaloo then responded. “Just leave it to me; I’ll bring him back kicking and screaming!” In the distance I could see Cheerilee shaking her head. Scootaloo had been persistently getting the line wrong for weeks; she was meant to say ‘I shall bring him to justice!’.

“OK, that’s enough for today,” Cheerilee said. “Full dress rehearsal is tomorrow, so make sure to study the script tonight and be ready for tomorrow.” She smiled, and then left the room.

Another oddity. She seemed oddly pleased these last few weeks, which was completely at odds with how she had behaved previously. Do adult mares simply have mood swings like this? I couldn’t afford to rule anything out.

“What’s a dress rehearsal?” Scootaloo asked, interrupting my train of thought.

“It’s where we all wear dresses!” Diamond Tiara, replying in a sarcastic tone. “Even the colts!”

“Really?” asked a colt, Button Mash, at the back, momentarily taking his eyes off his JoyBoy.

“That was sarcasm,” Diamond replied. “Come on Silver, let’s not waste any more time with these ‘blank flanks’!”

That afternoon, we went to Sugarcube Corner for some milkshakes. Apart from some screaming in the background from that idiot colt Button Mash, who had decided to try and drink his entire milkshake in one go to impress the airhead Sweetie Belle, the scene was fairly quiet. I decided to raise my concerns with Diamond Tiara.

“Di,” I asked, trying to introduce the topic as naturally as I could. “Have you noticed anything odd about miss Cheerilee?”

“Silver,” she replied, “you’ve been at this for weeks. There is nothing wrong with miss Cheerilee. She’s just stressed about the play.”

“But she was like this before the play!” I protested. “Remember how angry she was that day when the Crusaders were discussing the moon?”

“Probably because they had driven her mad,” Diamond responded coldly. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“But-” I tried to get a word in, but Diamond Tiara interrupted my interruption.

“Let. It. Go.” The hostility in Diamond’s voice stunned me, and so I decided to try and puzzle out the matter in my own head, relying on my own thoughts and evidence to try and figure out what was going on.

Let us see, I thought to myself. Before Hearts and Hooves day she seemed completely normal. True, she got cross when the note passing business occurred, but that’s to be expected. It is against rules, after all.

Wait...Hearts and Hooves Day. What happened that day? My mind flashed back as I recalled that truly chaotic day.

I wandered around the park as I tried to avoid the Celestia-awful singing of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who it seemed were obsessed with getting Cheerilee a ‘very special somepony’. Really, you can’t force romance! It took my parents long enough, but it clearly worked!

Later that day, I had noticed that Cheerilee was being herded through the streets by Sweetie Belle, indicating that (as usual) their plans had gone wrong. Seriously, those three caused untold chaos!

But then I had seen Big Mac dragging a house, and falling into a pit...

Wait a moment!

“I’ve got it!” I cried, out loud. I only realised this a moment later, and looked around.

“Got what?” Diamond asked, irritably.

“The answer to this crossword!” I answered, producing a newspaper as I did so. I had the answer at last.

Maybe Cheerilee banged her head when she fell into the pit! That would explain the abrupt change in personality, and the entire ‘breaking everything’ incident I overheard.

I knew I had to investigate this. And what better place to go than the horse’s mouth-sorry, the pony’s mouth-itself.

The dress rehearsal went smoothly, even though Scootaloo still got her lines wrong and the key special effect of the play, the falling sun, failed to function correctly, although Snails would be unlikely to know whether it had worked or not. He really was that dumb. Once proceedings had concluded, I went over to Cheerilee.

“Miss Cheerilee?” I asked.

“Yes, Silver Spoon?” she asked in return, warmth and charm in her voice, but even so there was something hollow to her tone, furthering my suspicions.

“I’m having a bit of trouble with some homework,” I answered. This was a lie, but I had to try and find out what was going on. “Could you help me with it?”

“Sure!” she replied. “I’ll just lock up here, and then we’ll head over to my home.”

I had no idea what horrors were due for me.

Author's Note

It ramps us...

An Illuminating Visit

We reached Cheerilee’s house after a few minutes' walk through Ponyville, the theatre being sited on the very edge of the town. It was a nice, nondescript structure, being built in the typical, half-timbered Plantageneight style that was usual for Ponyville. It had two floors, and a thatched roof which I imagined was good for keeping the rain out, and the warmth in. Cheerilee walked over to the door and unlocked the door, indicating with her hoof for me to go in. I put my saddle bag on the table and fished around for the piece of work I had produced in order to claim I was having difficulty with it.

Cheerilee went over to her kitchen. “You wouldn’t mind putting it on the table, would you?” she asked. I went into the living room and looked over the furniture. It all looked like it had been recently repaired. One of the table legs had a crack in it, which had been fixed with a combination of nails and superglue. It all looked very haphazard, and furthermore there was a window covered in black and yellow tape, as if it had been broken recently.

Cheerilee trotted in after me a few moments later. “Just been doing some remodelling in here,” she said.

“May I ask why the table leg is damaged?” I asked.

Cheerilee laughed. “Oh! I bumped into it one day whilst dusting the house and it broke. I had to fix it, which took such a long time, but it’s held for now.”

There was an awkward pause. “Would you like something to drink?” Cheerilee asked, as she moved over to me.

There was something very, very wrong. She was being too nice, too cheerful. It simply felt forced, and I had a feeling of dread building up in my stomach. However, I had to answer the question. “Water, please,” I replied.

“Sure!” Cheerilee replied, heading into the kitchen.

That was my chance. Once she had shut the door, I headed out into the corridor and began to look around.

First, I poked my head into the parlour. There was not much of interest in there, apart from a few photos and other such memorabilia. I looked at one of them, which seemingly had been taken a while ago, which showed Cheerilee with another mare who looked rather similar to her. The resemblance was uncanny. I brushed it off, and moved on. I decided to try the basement next, but that was locked, and so quickly gave up. Just then, I heard the door open, and Cheerilee stepped out with two drinks, one of them the water I had requested. I quickly dived down the stairs and waited for her to go past, and once she had gone by, I then headed back and cantered up the stairs as fast as I could.

“Oh, Silver Spoon?” I heard Cheerilee ask. “Where are you?”

I froze in position. My cover was blown, I knew it!

There was a deafening silence. And then she spoke again. “Oh, she’s probably in the restroom. Nothing to worry about, I’ll just wait for her to finish.”

I let out the breath I had been holding in, of which fact I was unaware, and then continued on my journey. I poked my head into the bedroom, which had a pair of curtains over the windows, and a scattering of furniture items, such as a dressing table, a chandelier, and some chairs. There was also a desk, upon which a typewriter sat with a copy of the play Reginald the Sly set next to it. So, this was the place where she had written it. I have to say it was pretty impressive how she had turned it out in such a short space of time.

I flipped the script open out of interest, and reached the scene where Scootaloo (as Sir Lancelot) confronts, and is defeated by, Reginald.

Sir Lancelot: These are the Wildlands, there is no doubt. So where could that weaselly Reginald be? I heard he’s sly as a fox, and true as that may be, he’ll never outwit the likes of me.

Reginald appears, wearing a black cloak, next to the mine working.

Sir Lancelot: Halt! By order of the king I, Sir Lancelot have come to put an end to Reginald the Sly. Are you he?

Reginald (as hermit): Oh no, noble knight. I am but a simple hermit, living in the mountains yonder.

Sir Lancelot (dismissively): A little thing such as you would indeed not have been much of a challenge. You look like you can hardly stand upright during a gentle summer breeze. Now tell me quick, simple soul, if I wish to find this Reginald, where should I go?

Reginald: Ah, you are indeed fortunate, sir knight. The villain you seek has his lair in this very cave.

Sir Lancelot peers in, suspicious.

Sir Lancelot: In there? You are sure of this?

Reginald: Of course, would I lie? You might have to leave your lance behind though, a lot of narrow passages down there.

Sir Lancelot looks around, and then shrugs.

Sir Lancelot (confidently): If I find him not you shall rue the day you were born!

Sir Lancelot enters the cave, and waits for a moment.

Sir Lancelot: It’s a dead end in here. What trickey is this?

I chortled for a moment. Scootaloo had been getting most of these lines wrong for weeks, though whether this was deliberate or because she was stupid, I’m not sure. The script then continued.

Reginald pulls on a hidden lever, and a set of bars drop into place in front of the cave.

Sir Lancelot: What is this trickery? Let me out right this instant, or the justice of King Golden crown shall come down upon your head, be whomever you may!

Reginald lifts his hood, revealing his true identity.

Reginald: Be whoever I may? Why, you’re thicker than I thought, you righteous foal. It is of course I, Reginald the Sly. Did you think I would not expect one of you to come here eventually, or that I would not recognise the ‘Great’ Sir Lancelot, bravest of all the knights in the realm, when she arrived upon my doorstep? It is your courage that shall now be your undoing.

Sir Lancelot (angry): You devil! You heathen, you dishonourable wretch! When I get out of here, it’ll be off with your head!

Reginald grips the lever once again.

Reginald: Then it is fortunate that you will never get out of there, ever again.

He pulls the lever (cue orchestra), and Lancelot backs up onto the platform. This drops out of sight, whilst rocks fill the mine entrance. Exit Reginald to stage left.

It was the next note that caught my eye, written in red and not present in the script copies we had.

Note: Whilst changing scenes for the King’s palace, operate press. That’ll make a bloody mess!

Next to it was a crude diagram, showing a stick-figure representation of Scootaloo being squished in some sort of cage, with some sort of liquid falling into a pool.

This has to be some sort of sick joke! I thought, as I flicked through some more pages. I stopped at the point where the sun falls from the sky. Next to it was another note in red.

Note: Ensure lamp falls on top of Snails. Force sufficient to kill.

By Celestia, what is this?

I flicked forward a few more pages, to the scene with Sir Altruis.

King Golden Crown: NO! My decision is final, you will have to go.

Sir Altruis: But my King, the royal guard, they-

King Golden Crown (interrupting): Are needed to defend the capital. With tensions rising in the east, we have no ponies to spare. You know this, Altruis. I trust in your capabilities. You will not fail me, like the others have, for if you do... I’ll have to accept this cretin’s challenge myself.

Sir Altruis crosses the stage (dim lights on King’s table). Eventually, he reaches a forest to see Reginald caught in a bear trap.

Reginald: Well, well... seems at least one of us is in luck today. The great knight arriving during the villain’s finest hour... You must be thrilled.

Sir Altruis: Are you hurt?

Reginald (sarcastically): Oh no! This thing is very comfortable, in fact.

Sir Altruis (cautiously): I’ll get you out. But if you make one strange move...

Sir Altruis is caught in wires and is suspended from the ceiling.

Sir Altruis: Hey! Let me down!

Reginald steps out of the bear trap, revealing it to be a fake, and laughs.

Reginald: Ah, dear Sir Altruis, is it not? Not one for skulking about, are we? You’d have to be quite good not to be spotted by me, anyway... And that legendary kindness, who knew it’d get you in the position you are in now?

Sir Altruis: If you know what’s good for you, Reginald, you’ll come with me. The king is fed up, and whatever his next move may be, you’ll probably not like it if you stick around here.

Reginald: I’ve heard the same tale spun twice before, good stallion. I’m quite sick of it by now, so if you don’t mind... This’ll be goodbye. Say hello to the beasts of the underworld for me.

Reginald pulls another lever, opening a trapdoor. Altruis falls through it.

There was another instruction in red.

Note: remember to remove crash mat on the night of the play.

Next to it was a crude drawing of Sweetie Belle being nailed down and then devoured by rats.

Note: Fire works well for getting rats to co-operate.

There was one of these notes next to each and every scene, which made one thing clear to me. Cheerilee planned to kill each and every one of us! This made me so sick, I wanted to-

A loud banging noise interrupted my thoughts. It was coming from the wardrobe. What could be in there? I trotted over and opened it, and my eyes filled with horror when I saw what was inside.

Inside, was a purple mare with a two-tone pink mane and tail, with a cutie mark of three smiling flowers. She was tied up and gagged as well. It was Miss Cheerilee!

“What are you doing in here?” I asked. She simply made some noises, so I pulled her out and tried my best to untie her, which proved to be incredibly difficult as the nots were very tight. Once I was done, she turned around and looked at me. “You have to stop her!” she said.

“Stop who?” I asked.

“Well, well, there you are,” said a voice. I turned around, and there was Cheerilee as well. But how could there be two Cheerilees?

“You know too much,” she grinned. “Weed.” That’s all I remember, before all went black.

Author's Note

Dun dun dun!

In case you are interested, Cheerilee's bedroom was based on that of Mrs Bates in Psycho:

Driller Killer

As I awoke, my brain felt like a Nightmare Night’s worth of fireworks had been exploding in my skull. My eyes were blurry and unfocused, and this led me to struggle to see what was going on.

“Why can’t I move?” I asked, as I felt about.

“Because you’re strapped down, silly,” a voice replied, distant and faded.

I looked forward, and saw a mare standing in front of me. A purple mare with two-tone pink mane and tail, but her cutie mark was not that of Cheerilee.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “And what have you done with Cheerilee?”

The mare laughed. “Well, I suppose you deserve to know the full truth. My name is Cherry Blossom; I’m Cheerilee’s twin sister.”

I mentally facehoofed. How could I not have foreseen that poosibility. “What do you want with us?” I asked. “What did we ever do to you?”

Cherry seemed to get enraged. “I’ll tell you what you did; you drove my sister to success, and me to depression! Cheerilee was always the favourite, no matter what I did. It was always her! HER!”

OK. That was a lot to take in. Cheerilee not only had a twin sister she had never told us about, but who was also criminally insane and immensely jealous? This was a lot deeper than I had thought possible.

Cherry then continued. “Of course, that couldn’t be allowed. Cheerilee was a rising star, but her star had to fall. And what better way then by murdering her pupils? Ponyville would be scarred forever, Cheerilee would be found guilty and executed, and I would have a rival out of the way. All that mattered was manoeuvring everybody in the right direction.”

She paused, and walked toward me, getting in my face so much her appearance went blurry in my eyes. “But then you stepped in. You interfered and messed up my planning. Well, that won’t be a concern.”

She stepped back, and indicated to a pair of large metal arms above me. One of them terminated in a drill, and the other in a buzz saw. Cherry smiled, as she had clearly worked hard on this.

“You have no idea how much research and measuring you up went into this!” she said, with a psychopathic grin. “This, of course, is a prototype. The real thing is installed in the theatre. But I won’t be needing to use it, as of course you won’t be there.”

She pushed a button on the floor, and a loud whirring started up above me. I looked up to see the machinery start up.

“What?” I cried, fear getting to me. “Don’t do this! Please!”

Cherry laughed. “You got in the way of the town plan, weed,” she answered. “And for that, we must use the pesticide of death.” She walked out of the door, and turned back.

“Game. Over.” The door then slammed shut.

The needle started to roll forward, advancing unstoppably. I frantically looked around. I had seen in the plans some reference to a stop button that would prevent it from moving, and this might save my life.

I felt about with my free hoof to try and find such a button, but no button existed. It was then that Cherry’s words came back to me, and I realised that I was doomed.

“You have no idea how much research and measuring you up went into this!This, of course, is a prototype. The real thing is installed in the theatre. But I won’t be needing to use it, as of course you won’t be there.”

It was an early version, so of course it lacked a stop button. There was no way of shutting this machine off, which meant it would slice me apart.

The needle got closer, suddenly beginning to spin as it approached the centre of my vision. I wanted to scream, but some horse gurgling noise was all that came out of my throat. The saw blade attached to the other arm suddenly began to spin, moving closer and closer to my flesh, the blade turning briefly as it did so, cutting into my fur and removing chunks of hair. Then it hit my flesh.

I screamed in agony as the blades whirred and cut through like butter, but not enough to cut through to the bone, as it suddenly moved again.

The needle was uncomfortably close, now pushing against the lenses of my glasses. The saw blade moved into position in front of my muzzle, about to slice clean through it.

The lense of my glasses suddenly cracked, the last thing stopping the needle from puncturing my eyeball gone. The blade whirred right in front of my nostrils, intent on ripping me to shreds.

In what seemed like the last moment of my life, I screamed to the heavens. “NO!” I cried. “THIS PONY’S NOT FOR THE ABBATOIR!”

The blade moved to within half an inch, as did the needle. I waited for the surge of red to appear in the left-hand field of my vision, for my eyesight to be gone forever.

But just as it was about to impact my skull...it stopped. I looked around in confusion, as the machinery retracted, and returned to the roof. “What?” I asked, confused.

Just then, I saw another filly pull open the restraints. “Honestly, Silver,” she said, “saving you is getting to be a habit. Please stop.”

“Diamond!” I cried. “You came looking for me!”

“I wouldn’t abandon a friend, would I?” she replied. “Besides, I had my suspicions as well, I just couldn’t voice them, you know?”

The last restraint was undone, and I fell to the floor, out of breath from the exertion I had just experienced. “We have to find Cheerilee!” I exclaimed.

“Let’s try the other rooms,” Diamond suggested. So, we headed out into the corridor, and looked in several of the rooms of the basement. Each of them had various different prototypes versions of the machines seen in the script notes, alongside dummies filled with mustard and tomato sauce to simulate blood and organ damage. The level of work that had gone into murder was truly horrifying to see, but we couldn’t stop. We had to find Cheerilee.

We pushed open another door, to find Cheerilee held up against the wall, with a collar around her neck. She looked at us. “Don’t come in!” she yelled.

But no sooner had we crossed the threshold, then blue lines shot out of the collars and burned a hole in the wall. They suddenly began to rotate upwards, running toward Cheerilee’s skull.

“THOSE LASERS WILL CUT RIGHT THROUGH ME!” she screamed in terror. “GET THE COLLAR OFF OF ME, GET IT OFF!”

We galloped over, desperately trying to find something that would turn the blasted collar off. But it had a hard-wired power source which we couldn’t disable, and the locks were too tight for us, even as Earth ponies, to break open with brute force. It was then I noticed some wires running down the wall to a box.

I went over to the box, and pulled it open.

The lasers rotated once more, moving into position right above the roof.

There was a red lever marked ‘power’. I pulled it, to no effect. “Diamond!” I shouted. “Give me a hoof here!”

Diamond ran over, and pulled alongside me. The lever still didn’t budge.

The lasers moved once more, now right over Cheerilee’s mane and on the verge of setting it on fire.

“FUCKING HURRY!” she cried in fright.

I looked at Diamond. “THREE, TWO, ONE, PULL!” We pulled both at once, and the lever dropped down and reached the bottom of the cycling sequence.

The collar deactivated and opened, Cheerilee falling to the floor panting. We galloped over to her.

“Are you OK?” I asked, concerned for her.

Cheerilee looked into my eyes. “We have to stop Cherry,” she said. “She’s insane, and will kill your classmates if we don’t stop her!”

“What are we gonna do?” Diamond asked. “The play will kill them and is set to go!”

Cheerilee nodded grimly. “Then we just have to stop the play,” she said.

Author's Note

Diamond and Silver's lines are based on those spoken by Sir Toppham Hatt and Stepney in Stepney Gets Lost.

The trap Cheerilee is in is based on the ending of Jigsaw.

Stop the Play

The three of us raced across town toward the theatre, which was near the river and lake. The clock above us began to sound out, eight chimes ringing across the landscape as we proceeded as fast as we could.

“So, what’s the plan?” I called, galloping as fast as I could, not caring that my limbs were filling with lactic acid, thereby slowing me down.

“We have to prevent the play from starting,” Cheerilee replied, as we went along. “No doubt Chery will give an opening speech before proceedings start, so that’ll give us a chance to get in there and stop her.”

“The others will have noticed we were not there to get into costume!” Diamond observed. “So that should slow them down further, I’ll wager!” She then looked to me. “How long have we got?”

“30 minutes!” I replied, my breathing getting harder as I ran out of oxygen.

As we raced into the theatre, the lights were just beginning to fall upon the audience circle, and furthermore we could hear quiet, hushed voices from all seated there. Just then, the orchestra began to play a fanfare, a loud, long one that took at least one minute to play in full and another three to finish echoing away. I positioned myself at the top of the stalls, looking downward to the stage itself. This was followed by the thunder of drums, and forward stepped Cherry, disguised as her sister, followed by the spotlight swivelling round and stopping on her. The last voices died down.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, it is with great pride that my students and I welcome you to our very own play,” she said, in a tone that sounded both warm and sinister at the same time. “They have all worked so hard on this over the past few months, and we hope you will enjoy it as much as we enjoy bringing it to you. Of one thing I am certain: this will be an evening you won’t soon forget,” she quickly added, the irony more than obvious to myself.

Oh, you’re right about that, I thought.

“And now without further ado I am proud to introduce, performed in Ponyville for the first time ever: Reginald the-”

“STOP! HOLD EVERYTHING!”

There was an audible murmur from the crowd at the interruption, and as they looked down Cheerilee ran onto stage and addressed the audience.

“Everypony,” she said, “it is not safe to remain; please leave, immediately!”

Cherry looked at her. “What?” she said. “How in the world did you escape the laser collars?”

There were shocked gasps.

“Two students helped me escape,” Cheerilee answered. “Students YOU were planning to murder!”

More gasps echoed through the chamber, until a voice perked up.

“Erm, excuse me,” said Applejack, a hint of confusion to her voice, “but Ah don’t understand. How can there be two Cheerilee’s?”

With that Cheerilee, having heard Applejack, bumped into Cherry, causing the cutie mark on Cherry to vanish and be replaced with her own. At least, what I assumed was her own.

“That,” she said, “is not Cheerilee. That is my twin sister.”

More gasps. “IMPOSTER!” cried a large, fat pony, whose name I didn’t know but whom I had often seen fishing outside his house.

Cherry screamed. “Well then! To the backup plan!”

Her hoof slammed down on a concealed button-how many concealed buttons were there?-and there were a series of loud explosions from below and above. Stage equipment began to fall as cracks appeared in the stages, and there was a familiar smell of acrid smoke.

So, this was her backup plan. I subsequently learned she had planted explosives across the theatre in case her ruse got rumbled before she could kill her intended victims-my own classmates and myself. As the theatre staff were busy evacuating the attendees, I saw the cast run off stage and into the stalls, dropping down the side of the stage, ditching costumes and props as they went.

Cherry vanished through a trapdoor, which Cheerilee ran over to and held open. “Come on Silver!” she called. “We cannot let her escape!”

I jumped down with her and we ran through the burning underworld, flames licking through and smoke covering obscene machines, including the needle device I would have been strapped into. There was also a tank filled with something or other, as well as a table with a horde of rats below. With nothing to stop them, they had scampered for the surface, and went about running amongst out hooves.

But we couldn’t stop. We had to prevent Cherry from escaping. As we continued onward, we reached a large room. This room was large, and dominated by a metal cage with bars below it. Below that was a vast chamber filled with...nothing, actually. I would have thought it was acid or something, but no. It was totally empty.

We found Cherry there, who backed up. “You’re not getting me!” she cried. “You’ve ruined enough of my plans as it is, and you won’t wreck anything else!” She then backed up further, and fell into the cage, the door shutting behind her as it did.

“What?” she asked. I ran over, but must have slipped, and crashed into another lever, which to my horror began to do something else.

I then realised this was the press which had been mentioned in the script copy I saw. There was a large metal plate moving downwards.

Cherry looked up in terror. “No, no!” she cried. “Please, stop the machine! MERCY!”

“Like you were going to show my students?” Cheerilee said furiously. “No. Reap what you sow, Cherry Blossom. You wanted a Scarlet Harvest of their blood. Instead, you will only get your own.”

It seemed the press had been damaged in the fire, as suddenly it shot downwards, smashing into Cherry and physically blowing her to pieces. Bone, blood, and flesh rained down into the pit below, a sea of red filling the space up with a scene of revulsion.

I could see Cheerilee gagging, and I wanted to throw up myself. “Come on,” I heard her say. “Let’s get out of here.”

To conclude, we all did get out alive. Although suspicion was initially placed on Cheerilee due to the lack of evidence, the theatre was salvaged by the fire brigade, and all the machinery, as well as that built in the basement of Cheerilee’s house, were brought in and used to prove her innocence. And slowly, life got back to normal.

Well, as back to normal as it could be. We were all scarred by those few weeks, and even though I am now old and grey (which, admittedly is not much of a change from then), that night, my moment of near-death...it still haunts me.

That we nearly ended up...in the Garden of the Dead.

Author's Note

If you are reading this Unahim, I hope you like what I did.

Next week, we go back to our usual schedule.

The Last Day of School

What a boring day.

Miss Cheerilee was at it again, desperately trying to make the material engaging, but yet I couldn't bring myself to care one bit. Who cares what happened 1,000 years ago? I get that it links to what happened at the Summer Sun Festival, but we don’t need to know every detail!

“And that’s how Equestria was made.” Not that anybody noticed it. Diamond Tiara, sat next to me, was paying about as much attention as a dead duck (which is to say, none at all), whilst those blasted Cutie Mark Crusaders, who make my life a living annoyance factory, were doing...whatever it is they do.

Where are my manners? My name is Silver Spoon. I’m the daughter of a local steel magnate, who lives in Ponyville and goes to the Ponyville school on the outskirts of town. You can usually spot me near the front of the class, or failing that somewhere at the back where Miss Cheerilee can’t see me (that's the theory). I have dark grey fur, and a two-tone pleated grey mane and tail. I’m also short-sighted, so I often wear a pair of blue glasses. I usually have a necklace made of precious beads around my neck, which seemed to be the interest of my compatriot sitting next to me, Diamond Tiara.

We were in the ‘special needs’ class, or as most other classes called it, ‘the retards group’. Why? It’s not my fault I’m dyslexic! Myself and Diamond bonded together over the fact we are both wealthy and got our cutie marks around the same time. Not only that, we have a shared dislike of those Crusaders. Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle. They made us look like such idiots at Diamond’s Cutie-Cenera, and as such they have been our mortal foes ever since. Not to mention they make such a mess of the town most weeks.

Right now, Miss Cheerilee (our teacher) was trying to get a straight answer out of Apple Bloom, which wasn’t going to work.

““Oh… ummm…Yea, yea I s’pose ah can... ehhmmm... lessee here now...Night an’ day are important... Because... Because if there were only one or th’other, either Luna or Celestia would be very sad.” I sniggered quietly at the sheer stupidity of the response. By Celestia, she was as dumb as country hicks go! I also saw Cheerilee shake her head in frustration. That was what was odd.

Call it intuition, but I spotted that Cheerilee had been acting weirdly for a while now. She seemed to anger very easily, and had some sort of trouble with us. Maybe it was normal for teachers to do this, but at the beginning of the year she’d been...nicer. What could have happened?

My thoughts were cut off by Scootaloo interjecting. ““That’s stupid! Really, who could ever come up with a reason as ridiculous as that?”

Apple Bloom shot back with “Ah don’t see you comin’ up with a better answer either. Ah bet you don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Scootaloo seemed to get even more infuriated. “Oh yeah? Why did I get a better grade on that last test then?”

They then argued loudly with one another for a few moments, before Cheerilee interrupted loudly.

“GIRLS!” she shouted, blowing everyone’s eardrums and even managing to wake Snips up, which I will admit is an achievement. ““This is neither the time nor the place to hold such pointless debates! You’re here to learn and pay attention. And that goes for all of you, yes you too Diamond Tiara, don’t look so surprised!”

That shut everypony up. Then she continued, as she was known to do. “I’d have thought the topic of today’s class would be exceedingly interesting to young ponies who, like you all, witnessed Princess Luna’s return, a major historical event that shed much light on our country’s history and origins.”

I wasn’t present when Luna returned, so what Cheerilee had said was technically incorrect. But I let it pass as Apple Bloom spouted some more nonsense. “Oh yeah! She was stuck on the moon for a thousand years, right?”

This resulted in a note of derision from Scootaloo. “The moon? That’s impossible. Not even Rainbow Dash could fly that high! Besides, what would she eat for a thousand years? The moon doesn’t exactly look grassy from where I’m standing.”

Once again, I suppressed a chortle. Luna, according to the histories, wasn’t exactly conscious during her imprisonment on the moon. Not that it mattered to those three idiots anyway. Least of all, to Apple Bloom, who retorted as follows; “She could just eat cheese, right? The moon’s made of the stuff!”

Scootaloo shot back. “The moon is not made of cheese!”

“Oh, it is so!” Apple Bloom replied.

Then for no real reason at all, Sweetie Belle, the only one of those three who could be said to show ANY degree of intelligence, chose to wade into this utterly pointless debate. “Ehem. I’m sorry Apple Bloom, but I have to agree with Scootaloo here. The moon can’t be made out of cheese.”

This made Cheerilee perk up, who at this point had resorted to bashing her head against the blackboard. She looked over in interest and confidence.

Which Sweetie Belle then ruined. “It can’t be made out of cheese, because if it was, Luna’d have eaten a huge hole in it by now.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Oh yeah! Ah s’pose that makes sense.”

Cheerilee looked to be on the verge of having a heart attack. “NO!” she screamed, as we all flew out of our chairs in fright, Snips crashing through the ceiling and getting stuck up there. Which was a good thing, as far as I was concerned, as otherwise we would need to listen to his insufferable nonsense for even longer. “It does not! It does not make any sense at all! The moon isn’t made out of cheese because, ugh, you know what… Forget it. Class dismissed! You all have the rest of the day off. Go!”

We were getting the day off? Something wasn’t right, I knew it in my heart. But I shuffled out of the room and headed on my way with Diamond. “Do you have any idea what’s up with Miss Cheerilee?” I asked.

“Why would I care?” Diamond asked. “We get a day off, so that’s good for me!”

I sighed. “It’s just she’s been a little off for a few days now. She didn’t use to be like this.”

“I bet those silly Blank Flanks have driven her insane,” Diamond said coldly. “Oh well, at least I no longer have to hear their annoying voices for another second.” It was here our paths split. Diamond’s house was to the left at the crossroads, and mine was to the right. I bid her farewell, and set off on my way.

I stopped off at some stands in town on the way to see what was on sale, when I saw Cheerilee stalk through the streets. Her face was even more purple than it normally was, and I thought she was about to blow a blood vessel. I followed after her, and asked her a question. “Are you OK, miss?” I asked.

“NO!” she shouted back at me. “The last thing I want is to be in the presence of you little monsters!”

I was taken aback by this, and let her go a bit further ahead. I then trailed her until she reached her house, a small affair in the woods, and watched her go inside. What happened next made me even more concerned. I heard the sound of things being broken, shattered glass, cracking wood, the works. At one point a chair leg even flew out of the window, nearly flattening some plants.

All the while she was screaming. “Why?!? Why can’t I get these ponies to BEHAVE!” She sounded like some banshee or demon, not the sweet, kind teacher I had known before a few days ago. I decided there was no point in waiting around, and headed home for the night.

The next day in class, we had all the random nonsense from the students. And then Cheerilee arrived, grinning from ear to ear like a maniac. She went to the front, and spoke up. “Good morning students!” she said, a complete contrast of tone to yesterday. “We’re putting on a school play!”

Author's Note

So, hello, to my third horrorfic!

Cheerilee's Garden is one of my all-time favourite gorefics, and so (with Unahim's permission) I present a might-have-been, had certain events been observed.