Shadows of the Night

(Author's Note: I would like to thank Moon_Fire for working as pre-reader, I truly appreciate it)

I awoke with a start as I felt like I was about to fall off the precarious perch that was my current napping spot and realized I had freaked myself out for nothing, I was fine and in no danger of plummeting.

It was night now, so I figured it would be fine if I took my hood down. That was a mistake, for no sooner had I done so then I clapped my hands over my ears at the sudden intrusion. NOISE! Not just any noise, but a loud cacophony of night, insects whirring, buzzing, chirping, and golomping. That last one was probably one of the more magical varieties of those pests. If they weren’t so vital to the food chain, all bugs and creepy crawlies would cease to exist by my foot. But they provide nutrients for so many different forms of life, it would wreck the world just as much as a planet with no nightfall. I quickly replaced my hood, since everything had been quieter until then, and the harsh buzzing sounds were again muffled.

So yeah, super human power that gets further enhanced in the dark not so much fun with so much noise when one of those powers is hearing. No wonder I was put in the middle of an arid waste, there was nothing there to overwhelm me. That said, having been a shade for a day had helped me to acclimate at least some, so it wasn’t completely unbearable, at least it wasn’t clubbing music.

Cracking my neck, with delightful loudness, I figured it was time to get something to eat as I slid from the deceptively comfortable branch I had slept upon. Thoughts of sticking my arm in a bonfire for penance played across my mind just for thinking about stealing, but I was just too hungry, and I was not willing to be thrown in jail for being a public two-legged walking menace.

I stopped short at that, already about halfway down the hill the tree resided on. Wow, going over it, the show really makes these ponies to be pretty xenophobic when you think about it.

I didn’t have to worry about that too much though and immediately called the darkness to cover me. Not true invisibility, but if anyone were to look at me, I would appear as part of the shadow and not some sort of three dimensional darkness looming out of its two dimensional counterpart.

Hiding within the shadows I made my way into Ponyville. I about three fourths thought it would be pretty empty, everyone in the show seemed intent on working in the daytime and sleeping at night, and for the most part I was right, most of the city had their homes’ shutters closed tight, but I heard this great thumping coming from further in.

Fun fact, flying can suck upon my holiday balls. I won't lie, I was going pretty slow, the change in in scenery which just flashed by as I let my mind wander and just zigzag from shadow to shadow in veritable blinks of an eye definitely needed some getting used to. I could have just tried to go in a straighter line too, but I couldn’t help but think that would have almost defeated the purpose. Cracking a smile I jumped through the scenery and wondering at how much larger the town was in person and yet looked so small in the actual show. But all of my musings stopped when I finally found the source of the sound.

My mouth hung agape at the sight before me. The whole street was nothing but bars and clubs, the latter of which was now much closer and now much louder. But it wasn’t so bad, it was mostly just bass, nothing so high pitched, which suited me fine. I love the way bass will make your skeletal structure literally vibrate, it’s like a massage chair while you’re standing.

Free air massage aside, the scene before me was pretty intense, well, compared to the view of Ponyville I had been lead to expect. I had read lots of fan fictions making jokes about Apple Jack’s hard apple cider and about Berry Punch, but I never quite expected to see a proper bar, let alone a whole street of them. Though I suppose it really wasn’t so bad as I melodramatically push my jaw back up. Fermenting beverages has been around for centuries, and was used as a way to have beverages safe from bacteria when water was thought to kill.

I knew that they weren’t just some sort of joke bars like the salt lick in Appaloosa either with names like Celestial Ale, The Draft Pony, and the most surprising The Pink, whose sign claimed its title in bold black letters in front of a very familiar balloon trio configuration. The clubs all had similar pun-y names, to which I might have laughed if it didn’t seem like no one had really tried to do something clever with horse puns literally around them on a daily basis. But all this boiled down to the fact that there were ponies around at night, in the dark, and a thought came into my head on just how I might be able to find some sustenance without have to resort to stealing.

I walked over to the nearest alley, so as to be in nopony’s sight and began to mold the shadows to my whim, as a slim, but well muscled black with dark gray mane and tail unicorn took form. A wave of inspiration hit and a small gray marionette on strings appeared on its flank. It came up to about my waist, but that was fine, didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself, as my puppet would look strange enough with its dark coloring contrasting with all the bright pastels that were the usual norm. I then wrapped the shadow around me and let myself melt into it, essentially hiding in my own shadow as I had it walk out the alley and into The Draft Pony, which by all accounts seemed the most low-key place to start off first.

I made it in with nary but a few glances from any of the inhabitants except for looks of those who were simply looking at something new. It was a close-knit town, so it made sense that many of them would know most of each other if not by name then by sight.

I definitely made the right choice starting here, the all wood paneling with booths large enough for ponies to comfortably lie in with soft yellow light coming from candles along certain points in the wall, as well as a large hearth filled with logs. It was a stark contrast to the blinking light show that could be seen from some of the clubs.

I made my way to the bartender, a dark forest green pony with brown mane, absently wiping the bar down with a rag, and said, “Excuse me sir, I’m new in town, and am a little short on funds, and sustenance, do you know where I might be able to find a way to get some money?”

The bartender gave me a funny look, “What’s your voice doing so far away from your mouth?” His confusion made sense, my shadow only came up to my waist, but my head was up a few more feet. I smirked. It was all was going according to plan.

“I’m actually a mute, my vocal cords were damage rather badly as a kid, but I’m able to communicate by sending magic through my horn, vibrating it rather like a tuning fork.”

“Oh, sorry to hear about that.” The bartender said with a look of genuine concern, my heart started to burn at the thought of all the effort he was giving to my lie. “But to tell you the truth, the entertainment for tonight hasn’t shown up, was supposed to be a storyteller. If you know any good stories I’d be willing to pay you the money that was going to her. Doesn’t have to be long mind you, just something to grab the customers’ attention.”

I was rather put on the spot, I had read many books in my day, geez that sure made me sound old, but now my mind was starting to freeze up trying to think of a story that could easily change their characters into ponies, then I asked, “Does it have to be a happy story?”

To this the bartender gave pause as his hoof went to his chin, “Hrrrm, I don’t see why not, it’d be an interesting change of pace from many of the fairy tale stories we normally have.”

Funny he should mention fairy tales I thought Grimm-ly, “Where should I stand?” I asked looking around to see if there was a stage.

“Just go up next to the hearth and I’ll announce ya, say what’s yur name anyway”

“It’s Rumor.” I said and slowly made my way to just to the left of the fire, not wanting my puppet to start wavering in the light since I was passing it off as my real body.

The bartender shouted for quiet and told them I was going to be their story teller for the evening. I gave a rather loud gulp, seeming louder with everyone in the bar now quiet. But I shored up my nerves and sent my shadows out and fashioned a decrepit little model town of shadows that took all the room in front of the hearth, and began my, ponified, tale...

“Once upon a time, there was a little filly. No, no, that isn’t right. You see, it wasn’t just any time, and this wasn’t just any filly. This story is about Emmeline and it all happened a long time ago in a town that doesn’t exist. At least… not any more.

Emmeline was three - the only child of a curator and a soprano. She had everything a child could want… but there was one problem. Emmeline had been forgotten by absolutely everyone. Mummy and Daddy were always preoccupied with the business of the day. The Servants complained that she was underfoot. Even the postmare - who often brought letters that made Daddy frown - never brought any letters for little Emmeline.

There were no hugs. No bedtime stories. Only a growing mountain of cold, lifeless toys who could not scare away the closet monsters or admire her drawings or, more importantly, love her back.

Emmeline tried her best to be a good little filly. Then she tried very hard to be a not-so-good little filly. Either way, no one was paying attention. There was nothing she could do.

One night, Emmeline peeked out her bedroom window and saw a beautiful star! It twinkled and glowed so brilliantly that Emmeline wondered if it was even a star at all and not an alicorn who was up past his bedtime.

She remembered a rhyme about such stars and how they could grant wishes. And if anybody had a wish, it was Emmeline. Emmeline closed her eyes and wished… Wished… WISHED with all her might. She wished for a friend… A friend who could play with her and help her reach tall things and protect her from the creatures in the shadows and never ever EVER leave.

Stars don’t grant wishes for everypony, mind you, but few children have ever wished for anything so dearly as little Emmeline.

‘Please…’ She begged. ‘Pleeeeease!’

And at the exact stroke of midnight… or perhaps a few seconds before, depending upon the clock… Emmeline’s wish came true.

Oh, he was a delightful friend! They drew pretty pictures together and made up stories! They even had tea parties and build pillow forts. Emmeline named him Mister Creazil – because it sounded right – and he was her special secret.

Mister Creazil was great fun for a while, but after a time, it seemed like there was something missing. He was certainly the best friend she’d ever had but only because she wanted him to be. He did everything she asked… but nothing more. He couldn’t even love her on his own. This thought made Emmeline very sad.

Then came a sound of cheering from the parlor and soon after… the news.

‘Oh, isn’t it WONDERFUL, Emmeline?’... said one of the maids who never usually said anything to her.

‘Your mother is going to have a baby! You’ll have a baby sister one day, won’t that be nice?’ With that, the maid was gone as quickly as she had come.

Emmeline turned to Mister Creazil who, after considering the proper response, chose to frown. No, this was not wonderful. Not at all. This was the final straw, and Emmeline would not stand for it! With nostrils dialated and her face scarlet with rage she opened her mouth and screamed.

How DARE they replace her with a new child?

How DARE THEY love another little filly?

Emmeline screamed and screamed and couldn’t stop screaming and as she screamed Mister Creazil absorbed her wrath and began to grow. The more Emmeline screamed, the bigger and uglier he became until he outgrew the entire house! With a terrifying roar Mister Creazil carried out the revenge Emmeline wanted more than ever.

CRACK!!! went the rest of the house and everyone inside it.

CRASH!!! went the neighborhood whose children never asked to play with Emmeline.

On Mister Creazil stormed tearing to pieces everyone and everything that had ever failed his creator. The ice cream cart that never stopped for her, the instructor who chuckled at her dreams, even the postmare… all met a swift and terrible demise.

Just as Mister Creazil was running out of things to crush and smash Emmeline at last stopped screaming. Exhausted and heartbroken, she sat upon what was left of her bedroom floor and cried. Oh, WHY hadn’t anyone loved her? Why did Mummy and Daddy want a new daughter when Emmeline would have done anything ANYTHING for a simple hug? A kiss on the forehead… Even a good scolding! But everyone was gone. Who would love her now?

Lighting up the night sky was the very star upon which she had wished not so very long ago. With a heavy heart, Emmeline looked upon it and made one more request. She closed her eyes and wished… Wished… WISHED with all her might… And at the exact stroke of midnight – or perhaps a few seconds before – Emmeline’s wish came true. Like a ghostly light she began to fade until there was nothing left.

Neither she nor Mister Creazil were ever seen again. Sometimes, on a dark night, when the stars are bright if you're very still and very quiet you can almost hear her tiny voice. Please… pleeeease… whispers the wind, forever echoing the one wish of a little girl who was forgotten by absolutely everyone.”

I let the shadows, which had acted as visual aids, slip away, and having been fully immersed in giving my tale, finally looked up into the audience and saw the room. While there was definitely a degree of sorrow clinging to the air, the most prevalent emotion seemed to be one of subdued terror. I'd thought the story was more saddening than anything, but in either case they seemed to have taken it too far to heart. It was just pretend! I was starting to worry I had done something very wrong, and began to pull at my chin hair nervously (yes I have a small beard, and I call it chin hair as I only grow it under my lower lip, think Shaggy, but more devilish) when one of the patrons in a booth, a bat winged pegasus, not unlike the ones seen pulling Luna’s carriage, began to stomp on his table, followed by another, and another, until the whole building almost shook with the stomping applause.

I sheepishly went back to the bar, though no one else would know that as my shadow puppet wore the same stoic expression as it had when it had come in, thought I did make it smile some in order to maintain appearances. The bartender wiped away a manly tear, trust me, they are much different than normal tears, and reached under the bar to produce a bag of bits. Sliding them over to me he said, “That is the saddest story I’ve ever heard, you’ve got quite the talent there, though I might like to suggest you try and see if you can craft some happier tales, at least for your audiences sake, if not your own.”

He then proceeded to give me a drink, on the house for my performance, I asked if he had any root beer, and he quickly produced the drink. I took a large swig, intending to enjoy the king of all sodas, only to grimace and quickly refill the container. “I’m sorry sir, I meant the soda. Beer just isn’t quite to my liking.”

The bartender gave an apologetic grin, and a small chuckle at my expense he was sure I wouldn’t be able to hear, something about fillies not being able to hold their ale, as the proper beverage was bestowed upon me. As I quickly downed the drink, in part to get the taste of the last one out of my mouth, but also because it was the best root beer I’d ever had. My shadow was sitting up on the barstool, coming up to about my head, so it looked totally legit as I chugged it down and then gave a small burp. Excusing myself I then asked if there was anyplace that I might be able to buy some traveling gear and food at this time of night.

The bartender gave another thoughtful glance up to the ceiling and again rubbed his chin, then said I might try a few streets over, to the place where a lot of the night weather patrol hangs out, when they aren’t on duty. I thanked him and made my way out of the bar with a few patrons coming up to thank me for the emotional tale as I tried to side saddle a few of the more friendly/intoxicated ones from trying to touch my shadow and find it as insubstantial as any other shadow.

Once outside the blare of the nightlife began to become noticeable again, I shuddered to think on how loud it might be without my hood on, and began making my way down the next couple blocks to this off duty night weather patrol, making sure to only walk. One, so that my shadow would look normal enough and not cause much attention to me, and two, so I could ask directions if, for some reason, I got lost.

I was just passing an alleyway when a shrill scream started to erupt, but was very quickly silenced (one of fear, please, just keep your mind out of the gutter, I know I was on a bar street, but come on). This time I didn’t seize up. Not this time, not with superpowers, or a giant tower shield. I quickly dropped the puppet, but kept the shadows around me to stay invisible as I rushed into the alley… which was empty, and ended with a sturdy wooden wall… and a comically large dirt hole that made me think about Bugs Bunny.

(Author's Note Mk. 2: This story was brought to you by  Ms. Towell and Tim Jones, if you enjoy this sort of macabre, then you will also enjoy their youtube site Childrin R Skary)