Chapters Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
It can be tough out there in the open wasteland. The nights never seem to get any warmer, the days never seem to get any cooler. Every monster you kill seems to get replaced by three new ones.
Every once in a while, even the most nomadic travelers want to settle down for a while. That was true of a buck named Dustprint.
The little village he found was his first choice to stop at, because no other choices appeared on that old highway, despite walking for nearly a week. He thought he may be lost, or walking in circles. Either way, he needed rest.
The Mayor of the town was an easy going mare named Ladle. She was a unicorn with a short cropped mane and a missing front leg. She doubled as the chef of their community of two dozen.
“Each one of us must do our part,” she said, when he asked for a place to stay.
Every evening, each villager brought something to eat to the kitchen, she would cook it all up and it would feed the village that night and the next morning.
It was a simple system, and everyone understood.
The next day a buck named Crosshair, with a similar looking scar over one eye, took Dustprint out into the wasteland to hunt for their daily kill.
There were an assortment of flood tunnels that ran beneath the highway near the village. Just enough critters seemed to congregate there that the village was able to thrive.
After exploring 10 different tunnels, they stumbled on a pair of small radscorpions. Each were about the size of a hoofball, just large enough to cover their portion for the day.
With careful aim, Crosshair fired an arrow into one of them, pinning it into the ground. The other was scurrying quickly, but Dustprint was able to nail it with his trail carbine.
That night they brought their finds to Mayor Ladle and she was satisfied. Her horn floated up an assortment of knives. With a practiced precision, she carved open the shells of the radscorpions and extracted the pieces of meat. The chunks were mixed into a pot with some vegetable broth.
After about a week, Dustprint was getting used to the simple routine of the town. Crosshair showed him some other places to hunt nearby: a shallow lake, a grotto, and an abandoned restaurant.
Dustprint was really feeling at home, the villagers had been very kind to him.
Crosshair returned early one day with a radroach, but Dustprint was hunting in the grotto.
After a few hours, Dustprint realized it was almost nightfall. Frustrated, he gave up and returned to the village. At suppertime, each villager lined up and presented their portion of food for the evening roast.
When Dustprint reached the front of the line he apologized and said he couldn’t find anything that day. He then turned to make his way toward the tent, not expecting to eat if he had nothing to give.
“Now wait a minute,” Mayor Ladle said. Dustprint turned around and saw that she was sharpening one of her larger knives.
He gazed around and saw that the group had gone silent. Crosshair was staring as Dustprint with a look that he couldn’t quite describe.
Mayor Ladle finished inspecting the butcher knife once she thought it was sharp enough. It floated in place where her front-right leg used to be.
“Each one of us must do our part,” she said again. “Which part will it be?”
Author's Note
More from the author: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnFIr7A-J4cT2Y2Xv3qwH9w , https://www.youtube.com/user/SkyBoltsMusic
View Online
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
THE GHOST OF MARESPAH HUT (By ComicSansPony)
Pointed Path was a filly scout and aspiring orienteer. Her cutie mark was a rocky peak with a dirt path on the side. So for a summer trip her parents took her to the Chimera Mountains to visit a series of cabins known as Chimera Mountain Club Huts, or CMC huts. They let her pick the hut to visit. Pointed picked Marespah Hut. On a good day she would have been perfectly capable of making the climb, but on the day they were set to climb the region was scheduled for a light drizzle.
“You sure you still want to go?” her father asked, showing her the weather report.
“It's only a small shower in the afternoon, dad. We’ll be fine.” she replied, undeterred by the rain.
Unfortunately for her, the pegasi made a grievous error in the forecast. Where it was listed as a light drizzle, it was actually a thunderstorm. Taking the medium hike to one an expert outdoorspony would barely make. By the time the Path family would realize this error, they were more than halfway to the hut. Too far in to turn back, they decided to press on to the hut.
However, tragedy struck. One missed step on a rocky section slick with rain, sent Pointed falling off the cliff. Her mother, a unicorn, tried to catch her in telekinesis, but it barely slowed her fall. Worried for Pointed, her father carefully traveled the reminder of the way to the hut, while the mother waited where Pointed had fallen.
An hour passed before the CMC staff arrived with dad. They were able to rescue Pointed’s body from where she landed, but it was too late, she was already gone. The on-staff medic declared her dead at 7:42pm. Pointed’s body was put in a bodybag and carried back to the hut, as it was too unsafe to return to the bottom of the mountain until daybreak. It was a long night at the Marespah Hut. The bodybag was stored in the basement of the hut, to keep it out of sight of the other guests.
The storm raged on through the night, only ending as Celestia raised the sun the following morning. When they went to the basement in the next morning to retrieve Pointed’s bodybag, it had moved clear across the room. Opening the bag, Pointed’s parents, and the CMC staff, would learn Pointed had not died and was merely unconscious.
She had woken up in anypony’s worst nightmare: sealed inside a bodybag. Her hooves were worn down to the bone trying in vain to break through the bag. The storm from the night before downing out her cries for help. By the time morning had come, she had suffocated.
This incident would be a dark stain on CMC huts, bringing them to near bankruptcy. It was revealed that they had cut more than a few corners in cutting their trails into the Chimera Mountains. Though ponies can have tragically short attention spans. Soon Equestria was at war and CMC Huts were taken over by the Ministry of Peace. Many strides were made to make the trials safer for ponies.
One day a family, hoping to get away from Manehatten, would make a reservation for Marespah Hut. The family had a very spoiled, young, colt who was not thrilled with a nature vacation. The whole hike he complained “why do they make these trails so long?”, and “Can we take a break?”. So the family was exhausted when they reached the hut, having missed the provided dinner, they went straight to bed.
The next day, the colt had vanished. His mom told authorities he had gone to the bathroom around 1am. The MoM and the MoP mobilized a search party and scoured the entirety of the mountain range and found nothing. No foal nappers, no foal, not even a body. Even an equestrian born Zebra couple, who had just happened to be vacationing at Marespah Hut, was brought in for questioning. Still nothing.
Three days later, the colt’s mom was doing one last look around the hut before giving up on her son. When she noticed a door that had not been checked: The door to the basement. After the 'Pointed Path Incident', it had been boarded up. It had been ignored because it was unused.
Checking inside, there was the colt giggling, completely unharmed, if a bit dehydrated. His mom ran up and hugged him.
“Where have you been?” she sobbed.
The colt smiled and replied, “I was just playing with Pointed.”
The colt had been found alone in the dusty basement.
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
About one year before the war came to its final moments, Lapine industries made an announcement in the press. They wanted to audition both a pony and a rabbit for the role of their company mascot. They didn’t make any specifications as to the pony, so it was a free for all when it came to failing actors and ponies that tried to take the role. One of these ponies was Lucky Charm.
Lucky was a little filly, having lived all her life in the shadow of her mother and father. Both were famous in their own right. Her mother, Natural Charm, was an actress, and her father, Chanted Charm worked in arcanotech. Both were always very busy.
Lucky had just gotten her cutie mark, a shooting star, and her mother had insisted that it meant she was going to be great for the limelight. Lucky went along with her mother’s wishes, but not because it was her dream. The filly just wanted to spend time with her mother. She’d failed every audition near instantly thus far.
When the call for a mascots came out, Lucky was excited. She wouldn’t get the part, but her mom would spend time with her. So they went to Lapine Headquarters, with Lucky dressed up in a pair of bunny ears. She held her stuffed animal, Cuddle Bunny. It was speckled brown, a patchwork of fluff, and was her favorite thing. Lucky wiggled, sitting in her seat for hours as pony after pony was rejected.
When it finally came to be her turn, one of the stallions came to get her. “Lucky charm?”
“Yes, that’s me…” She replied, staring up at him. As she got up she dropped Cuddle Bunny.
She followed as he gestured for her to come with him, going beyond the large intimidating white doors. As she walked along she heard a commotion behind her.
“You can’t come in here, only one at a time.”
“But that’s my daughter!”
“Sorry ma’am.”
Lucky tried to look back, but the doors were closed with a loud clang, and she couldn’t see anything but the two uniformed ponies standing by it. She was led to the stage, in front of three judges. None of them seemed like creatives. All three seemed to be scientists.
“Alright, Lucky, show us your routine.” The first said, seemingly bored. It was an orange pegasus mare with her mane tied up in a bun made out of braids.
Lucky did her best, but most of the things she’d prepared seemed blank in her mind. All she remembered to do was a little dance.
“Alright, fine. That’s enough.” The second, an earth pony stallion who’s coat seemed to be extra long, said. It covered him, leaving only his face in view. “Bring out the other subject.” Lucky turned around, trying to see what was happening. What was brought out was a small white rabbit. “Now we’re going to need you to stand still.”
Lucky tried her best to stand still, but she shivered in place moving too much for the interview apparently.
“Hold her.” The third doctor said, a unicorn whose face was hidden behind a white mask. Two uniformed guards grabbed her shoulders and held her still, as the unicorn levitated a syringe over.
First the Syringe was stabbed into the bunny, but it didn’t seem to be injecting anything. Instead extracting a sample of red blood. In the glass of the Syringe the blood mixed with an odd clear fluid. The rabbit squirmed, seemingly in horrible pain. But soon it was Lucky’s turn. She couldn’t move, even when she tried, so she just watched the syringe approach her. It was injected into her shoulder.
After this, Lucky felt woozy, passing out right there. When she woke up she was no longer in the chamber. She was instead in a very small room. A very small room with walls made of chicken wire. She was in a cage! As she stood up a sudden sense of oddness filled her, something felt wrong. She tried to look around, but it was too dark.
Lucky flung herself against the wall of her cage, again and again, causing a raucous loud noise to be made around her from other cages. Eventually she crashed through, an alarm beginning to blare as she ran from room to room.
She found a vent, and she pushed her way inside, managing to wiggle her way out. It was nighttime outside, so she ran and she ran and she ran. Eventually finding a river and seeing her own face, crying out in horror.
Natural was nervous about not being let inside. She was worried about her daughter. Maybe she had been too strong, trying to insist that she go into acting. She just wanted her daughter to be happy. She scooped up Cuddle Bunny and dusted him off, knowing Lucky would miss him.
It took hours, but nothing happened. Soon all the other ponies in the room were ushered away. She tried to knock, but she was told to go away… Eventually they stopped answering. When the clock turned seven, armed guards came to grab her, escorting her out of the building. She was sent home.
“Oh Chant, I don’t know what to do!” She said to her husband, calling from the office. “They didn’t send her back.”
“I’ll investigate. But I can’t go now.” Chanted replied.
Natural stared at the phone, Cuddle Bunny in her hooves. “This is our daughter! You can't just-” The phone was cut off. She slammed it back on it’s dock and went to sit in the living room. That’s when she heard the scratching. Something was in her yard.
When she opened the door she saw it. The creature seemed almost like a pony, its hind legs hideously extended. It’s ears long and drooping down to the floor. It’s body seems beyond all comparison. It said two words, horribly distorted. “CuUud dle… BUuuU nny…”
Author's Note
More from the author: https://www.fimfiction.net/user/170467/Chokfi
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
Tyretread was in a dire situation. Raiders had ambushed his wagon, and had the cart totally surrounded.
He was hiding inside and firing out of the windows as well as he could. The wagon contained all of his worldly possessions, the most important of which was his daughter, Saltine.
She was growing up, now a teenager, but in times like this all he could ever see was the four year old he had to pull from the grasp of her dead mother. Their journey for a safer place to live never seemed to be over.
He had to think quickly, but that was something Tyretread was not very good at, at least, not on his own.
When Saltine’s back was turned, he floated out the hidden tin of Party Time Mint-als. As soon as the tablet melted on his tongue, he could feel his focus tighten and his awareness of their surroundings multiply exponentially.
He scanned around the buildings at the various figures firing at them. Saltine was able to take out one more of the six, but the others were still shooting.
Raiders are very hierarchical, killing a leader makes them scatter. After a few seconds, Tyretread was sure he knew who that leader was.
The mare had the fiercest face among them, her eyes seemed to glow red and flaming manticore horns grew from the sides of her skull.
Tyretread blinked away for a second. The years of Mint-al abuse had begun leaving him with terrible side effects.
He loaded an armor-piercing round into his bolt-action rifle and fired right through her chest.
Her death rattle had the intended effect. The others stopped firing and disappeared. After a few minutes it was safe for them to continue on.
A few days later, they had thankfully made it through the densest part of the city and out onto the open road.
The last store they passed by was an old fashioned boutique. After scavenging for a few minutes, Saltine had come back with a skirt and halter-top combo that she was fawning over.
That night she had fully integrated the expensive clothing into her armor, working diligently on the stitching by the campfire.
Then, without warning, another group of raiders popped out of the ditch beside the road and chased them away from their wagon.
Tyretread was separated from his daughter, and could hear the popping of her semi-automatic rifle.
One of the raiders kept pursuing him, and he knew he had to turn this around quickly.
He swallowed another tablet of Party Time Mint-als and spun back around.
The raider that was pursuing him now had the face of a hellhound, but it was still just an earth pony inside. Tyretread fired, and the monster went down.
Galloping back to their camp, two creatures were fighting each other while circling the wagon. He took aim at the radscorpion and fired. It was dead in seconds.
Once he got within the glow of the campfire, the mole rat, the lone survivor, raised its gun at him and began firing. In a panicked response, he fired back until the mole rat stopped moving.
His heart began racing and his mind was trying to decipher what happened. He went searching in the ditch, seeing where Saltine might be hiding.
Only when he passed the wagon, did he see the radscorpion start to fade away. It was wearing a very expensive skirt and halter-top.
Author's Note
More from the author: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnFIr7A-J4cT2Y2Xv3qwH9w , https://www.youtube.com/user/SkyBoltsMusic
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
Golden Token had been a big fan of Petunia’s Pizza Palisade when he was younger. Back before the bombs had torn him and his sister from their parents, Petunia Possum was like a third guardian. A third parental figure in his life. But the bombs had come and taken all three of the parents he loved.
Of course, his sister didn’t see it that way. She cried, and cried, and cried. Making him take care of her, even though he was only a few years older. Just because he had a cutie mark and she was a blank flank didn’t mean that she needed him all the time, did it? It certainly seemed that way as he took her from settlement to settlement in his beet red wagon.
Of course she wasn’t grateful to him, no. That would be too much to expect from her. All she did was cry for food. Or cry for their parents. Or cry for her Celestia damn toys that they had forgotten at home. Did it ever matter what Golden wanted? No.
That’s why Golden was so ready to dump her on those kind ponies. Why he was willing to leave at their insistence that they could only take one more mouth in. Why he… Why he was now alone. It was because she was annoying, that’s all.
When Golden got to the next settlement, he was a bit pitiful. Dragging his little red wagon along with his few things. None of them worth anything, just bits of trash he’d found and made into toys for his sister. He’d pawn them off if he could, but he probably couldn’t get even a few bits off anypony.
As he walked around the settlement, people tried to intimidate him. But something about him just… wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t seem to care about them at all, they were just set dressing, yelling at him and treating him like shit. Even breaking his sister's toys, and trying to break his wagon didn’t do anything. Just made him curl up in a corner and cry.
Everyone ignored him. Late into the night, as he slept. Until he woke up at midnight, tied to his wagon. When he woke up he saw something in the distance, something lit up. It was the prettiest thing that he’d seen in months. So pretty that he left the settlement and walked into the town proper.
Raiders were around, monsters, creatures. All of them ready to pounce, until they saw where he was going. Everything instinctively knew to avoid that place: Petunia’s Pizza Palisade. It’s brick exterior, made to look like fortifications, or perhaps to be fortifications. It would probably have been a popular mark. If it weren't for that energy that surrounded the place.
When he finally walked up to the door, he undid his wagon and left it on the step. He walked up to the doors, watching them magically move away from him, giving him that blissful feeling of cool air inside the pizzeria. Inside, sound blared, breaking the soundless night. All the arcades bleeped, blooped, and made lots of noise, all alone but for the colt.
It seemed almost too good to be real, but Golden could smell pizza. He walked right to the back of the place, and he saw her. Petunia Possum, the pony-like animatronic, standing behind the counter. A single pizza placed in front just for him, just exactly the way he liked it. Along with a fountain soda, and another cup filled with little golden coins with Petunia’s face on them. Golden took everything and walked to a nice corner booth, all by himself.
This was the first time he had enjoyed eating in so long. It had felt like years since he’d last eaten anything like this, and it’d been more than a week since he’d eaten anything but damp bread. It was wonderful. Golden was absolutely happy as the corn-meal dusted crus went over his gums and down his gullet; eating a good fourth of the pizza quickly and happily.
When he walked into the play area with his tokens and drink, he was happy to see that everything was clean. Everything was free of the grime, dirt, and bloodstains of the outside world. Every mark that these last few months had happened were gone. In fact it seemed cleaner than ever.
After winning some games, and losing quite a few others, Golden walked back to his food. It was no longer where he left it, but he did see it back where he’d gotten his food before. It’d been made to look whole. Petunia had warmed it up for him! He was so happy.
Golden took the pizza into the tubes, finding a small corner, and fell asleep after eating a large amount of food. In the night he was startled awake. There was a noise in the tubes. There were scratching noises, something was moving around. Soon he felt himself grabbed by a pristine claw, and dragged out into the open. It was Petunia.
“I have the perfect place for you, my love.” She said.
It was only a few years after the war ended. Bit Chaser smiled as he walked up to the weird place. The townsponies had warned him that this, well, Pizza place was haunted. It didn’t matter to him. There would be electronics for him to study there. As he walked in the door he could smell pizza waiting on the counter, and hear the animatronic behind that counter humming. Out of the corner of his eye he could see another animatronic, this one something like a yellowish hamster, waddling around in front of the tubes.
Bit Chaser had found what seemed like heaven in the Wastes. A place with games and food, with comfort. Where a foal can be a foal, FOREVER ...
Author's Note
More from the author: https://www.fimfiction.net/user/170467/Chokfi
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
Pack & Satchel never seemed to agree on anything. It had been that way since they were kids. The two brothers fought incessantly.
Luckily, their sibling rivalry had made the two work harder at what they did in order to outdo each other. They were couriers, both members of the small 'Papa Smokey’s Wasteland Express' courier company.
Every successful assignment was a pushpin on the employee history board that Papa Smokey used to great success. The simple incentive played on the brothers’ personalities, making them both his top couriers.
Usually their deliveries were small in size, within a day or two of their storefront, but that would not be true of their next assignment.
A group of four or five ponies entered the shop one day, carrying some boxes of old terminal parts. Something about their eyes set Papa Smokey on edge, as he felt for his gun below the counter.
The leader of the group presented the boxes of parts and gave them a delivery location up past Manehattan, saying that the recipient would be waiting there.
Enthusiastic as always, Pack & Satchel each offered to make the delivery. The leader with the cold eyes silenced them and demanded that they both go, saying that the packages needed extra protection and they had to move quickly, no wagons.
The brothers were a bit stunned, but Papa Smokey agreed, and they set off the next day.
Each brother carried two boxes of terminal parts, arguing over which one was carrying more. They were venting their frustrations that they couldn’t count the job as a success against the other, instead competing over who was 'leading' or 'pulling the most weight' in the combined assignment.
The next day they argued over which direction to take on a split in the highway. Pack wanted to take the turnpike because it was a straighter shot and Satchel wanted to take the coastal road because there were less obstacles.
Their argument grew heated enough that they both renounced traveling together. Each brother went off in his own direction, beginning a race for their destination.
Pack was pretty satisfied with his choice of the turnpike. The long, straight concrete path was only interrupted by a few large pieces of debris. Most of the smaller vehicles had been picked clean for parts long ago, their frames having been tossed aside by hellhounds or other travelers.
At nightfall, he decided that he would only sleep for a few hours, then pick up traveling again after midnight to try to beat Satchel to the drop point.
Just as he was setting off again, he heard the creak of metal as a wagon frame seemed to flex on its own. Frightened, Pack pulled out his shotgun, but continued galloping.
To his surprise the shotgun went off on its own and he found himself rolling across the broken concrete. When he rolled to a stop, he spit the shotgun handle out of his mouth to inspect the barrel.
The barrel was gone.
A clean slice ran through the side of the gun. The only surviving piece of the mechanism was the firing pin.
Pack then noticed a figure standing over him. His head turned up, to see a tall black shadow looming, with bright red glowing eyes.
A deep mechanical voice boomed from its face: “Surrender your cargo, or die.”
Sweat ran down his forehead as he raced to think what he should do. He gazed at the remains of his gun, then back up at the shadowy creature.
That’s when he noticed something strapped to the creature’s back. It was two boxes of old computer parts. A smile began growing on Pack’s face.
“I won!”
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
ONE SIGNATURE (By ComicSansPony)
Zane stared blankly at the paper in front of him. One signature and his family would be all set for life. This is what the researcher from Robronco told him. Participate in their research, his sentence will be commuted and his family would never struggle for anything ever again.
Zane was not a career criminal. He had robbed the convenience store out of desperation. As Equestria went to war with his grandparent’s homeland, it became increasingly difficult to find honest work. Zane had a family to support. It was a choice to rob a store or go hungry. He just had the misfortune of robbing a store run by unicorns. All the fleet hoofed Zebra tactics in the world are no match for unicorn magic.
They quickly subdued him and turned him into the Pinks. He was shown no mercy in the Equestrian criminal system. After all he was a perfect example of why Zebras were not to be trusted. “Better wiped than striped” as the Ministry of Image would put it.
He was arrested for armed robbery, it would be years before he would see his wife and daughter again. So when the unicorns from Robronco came offering commuted sentences and compensation for family in exchange for volunteers, Zane was first to speak up.
The researchers were very pleased that of all inmates, a zebra had volunteered. He was given a physical and approved for whatever experiment that they had in store for him. So now all he had to do was sign what looked like a standard liability waiver or NDA.
Zane was not a lawyer by any means. Trying to decipher the legalese of the paper gave him a headache. All he had to do was muster the courage to sign and he could see his daughter again.
“I can do this, just sign my name.” He said, taking the pen in his mouth and signing on the line.
A moment later one of the researchers entered and took the form, smiling. Another researcher in a lab coat entered and administered a shot. Zane became very sleepy.
“This will be a great help to the war effort.” He said, as Zane’s eyes closed.
When Zane came to he couldn’t feel anything. It was all numb. From his mane to his hooves he couldn’t move. There was growing panic as he looked around the lab. There was something about the way that lab looked that was off. Like looking at a terminal monitor. Several researchers were readjusting something under his bed. He strained his ears to hear them.
“With the extraction complete, we just need the body set up.” one said.
“I just hope they remembered to wipe the memories this time.” the other complained, “we don’t need another criminal in charge of one of these.”
The growing panic caused Zane to try to speak up, “I..in charge of what?” he asked, his words coming out rather deep and robotic.
“Celestia damnit!” the second researcher said, “They forgot again.”
“I’ll ready the memory purge.” the first sighed, “Can’t have this brainbot talking when we show it to Ironshod.”
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
MESSAGE REPEATS (By ComicSansPony)
Out in the wastes, when darkness creepsMessage Repeats
A weary traveler, a righteous lot
Out in the mire a twig does creak.Message Repeats
Time to run, breaths are deep.
Bullets, armor, tactics, chances increase.
Message Repeats
Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark
THE STRANGER (By ComicSansPony)
Author's Note
Before you go, how about one more story? Don’t fret, it's quick.
THE STRANGER (By ComicSansPony)
They say you should be careful of the company you keep out in the wastes. There are a lot of crazies looking to get their kicks mutilating innocent ponies. None more vile than somepony known simply as 'The Stranger.'
It is said if you are found wandering alone on Nightmare Night he will appear around a campfire, just off the beaten path. He will kindly offer a seat by the fire.
“Hello there, stranger. Come, take a seat. Take a load off... Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”
The traveler will be on guard, but a fire is the difference between life and death on those cold, autumn nights. The stranger will offer food and small talk to the traveler. Eventually telling stories they heard in their travels.
The traveler will get lulled into letting down their guard, just as the stranger had planned. They will tell stories late into the night. Sharing in what many might consider a budding friendship.
When the hours grow late and it nears the crux of the witching hour, midnight, the tales will end. The traveler having one last good night. As they go to leave, the Stranger will brandish a rusted combat knife.
He’ll laugh and say with eyes as cold as the night air, “I lied, I bite.” as he cuts the traveler before they can react.
“Muhahahahaha, Happy Nightmare Night.”
