"Twilight!"
Her eyes gave her away, of course: The wide, frozen gaze piercing through me like a dagger. Her joints were locked firmly in place, and unfortunately, that meant the magic she was using stood halted all the same. I could feel my jaw slowly creak as we both sat and stared at one another.
In her magical grasp, one of my ladybugs lay crushed. Not softly. Not with any sort of grace, as if to rid the creature of its life and think of it no more.
Pulped.
And with a flash, it disappeared. The mass of what was once a beetle was pulled from the air to Celestia knows where in the world, leaving only a flushed-red alicorn glaring furiously at her hay bacon. I tried to say something, but any words I could have put out died in my throat as she tried to come to terms with her own.
I had invited Princess Twilight Sparkle, one of the sweetest mares I had ever met, to a nice Sunday brunch, and she had idly slaughtered a ladybug over her orange juice.
"Fluttershy, I... I'm so sorry," she told me. "It's a force of habit. I have a thing with ladybugs, and I, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She sat there like a scolded puppy, her eyes darting between the rest of the food on the table and awaiting my response. A blind mare could tell how horrified she was of her own actions, but it didn't matter to me in the slightest: I took a deep breath in and rose from the chair across from her, and I closed my eyes to rid my mind of every word I'd desperately wanted to throw at her.
"It's fine," I told her, even though it wasn't. She knew it, too, and she looked up to me with her eyes still wide as I took another deep exhale.
"It's fine," I repeated. "And it seems like they're getting in here from the garden. I'm going to make sure the windows are all shut."
I could almost envision her staring anywhere but at me as I exited the dining room and entered the kitchen. I shut the door behind me — the slam behind me rang a bit too loud for my taste — and I immediately looked to the window behind my sink. Sure enough, it was open just a crack, and I mentally chastised myself for being so careless to leave it open earlier in the day.
Once I closed it, I looked out on my garden.
The neat rows of plants danced slowly in the gentle breeze. Squinting, I could see a caterpillar swaying along with one of the leaves, and a blackbird, gazing idly into the greenery. The garden thrived this time of year, but as much as I wanted to let myself smile, the sound in my head drowned out any chance of distraction.
Squish.
Over and over, the scene played out in my mind. There was no hesitation, no regard. She'd seen it in front of her and eviscerated it with the nonchalant air of writing her own name.
I knew it was foolish to think that my friends hadn't ever killed an intrusive fly or a crawling spider at least once in my lifetime. At one time, I would’ve also thought it foolish to think that one of them would knowingly kill one of my animals in front of me, and certainly not so brutally. But Twilight Sparkle, who I'd never known to even think of hurting an innocent creature, had erased a poor little insect before my very eyes in my own home.
"I have a thing with ladybugs."
It shouldn't have been a big deal. Creatures die, and Twilight was not the only pony in Equestria to have ever killed one. But there was something in the narrowing of her eyes and the sickening precision in her swiftness that had me holding a hoof to my mouth.
With a creak, I heard the door open behind me. Knowing who it was did nothing to stop me from jumping.
"Fluttershy?"
It took everything in me to stay silent when I turned to face her. If I hadn't known better, I'd assume a wraith had drifted into my kitchen. Twilight had turned as pale as a lavender coat would allow, and she began idly twisting her right hoof into my tile as she stared through me once again. She didn't hold it for long, though, because a deep sigh sent her gaze straight to the floor.
"...We had a swarm of ladybugs enter our house when I was little," she began with some effort. "And my brother wanted to scare me, so he told me that all their little spots were eyes. So... so I had to get rid of them. We killed any bug from the swarm we saw until there wasn't any left, and it, uh, became a force of habit for me, especially after... I know it isn't a good one, Fluttershy, and I know how much you care about your animals. I was a bad friend, and I'm really sorry."
When she looked up, it wasn't back to me. Instead, her eyes locked firmly to the window, gazing out to the garden as it swayed.
Twilight was always a terrible, terrible liar. But I wasn't.
"It's okay," I told her.
It took less than five seconds.
Angel had taken the carrot I had given him and devoured it as if it were the last one in Equestria. It wasn't, of course—it was far from the last carrot in my garden—but I could never help a grin whenever I threw him one. I felt a chuckle escape my lips as I walked over to the refrigerator and popped in open. I had meant to get something for myself, but the sight of another thing—or a lack of it, rather—caught my eye.
"Hmm. Looks like we're out of more carrots, Angel Bunny. What are we going to do?"
I wasn't an actress, but it was enough for Angel. He'd still been reminiscing on his meal when his eyes shot wide and a single tear dropped across his face, his mouth creaked slightly like he'd lost a loved one. I couldn't hold it for too long, though, and a laugh escaped my lips as I headed to the backdoor.
"I have plenty more in the garden, Angel. I'll go get some now." With a sigh, Angel collapsed to the carpet with a thud, and it only served to increase my laughter as I cracked the door open.
"And I thought I was the one acting. . . " I muttered to myself.
The sun shone brighter than ever. The weather ponies had been delivering a steady stream of rain over the past few days, but it seemed they'd decided to give Ponyville a dollop of mercy in the form of Celestia's gorgeous golden rays. I let myself bathe in it as I made my way over to the hose, and the opening bars of a songbird's melody caught my ears as I rounded the corner.
Hopefully Rainbow keeps it this way for a bit, I mused. My watering can was resting gently by the hose as it always did, and I found myself copying the songbird's melody with a hum as I unraveled the hose and slowly turned on the faucet.
There was nothing quite like spring, and the slight wraith of a breeze that drifted across my fur kept the tips of my lips firmly curled. Hanging out with the girls was nice, sure, but it was the little moments to myself like these that often made the best of days.
The watering can had filled up in no time, and I gently grabbed the handle with my mouth and began to trot over to the garden around the corner. It only took a few steps, of course, so I started to scout out which plants I would hit first the moment I put my eyes on it.
And that's when I saw my hibiscus plants.
Of the lot first visible when one walked around the corner, about half of them had yellowed and wilted. They drooped down in a twisted bow, the other healthy plants towering behind them making them look even more ill in comparison.
I felt my eyes narrow as I carefully placed the watering can on the grass and trotted over to them. It didn't take very long to narrow down the problem, and I felt my breath hitch as I got a closer look at the damage.
A good amount of the leaves were covered with a white, waxy filter, and little holes had been poked around the groups of them. Traces of honeydew were present on others, too, and I felt my eyes widen at the sight of what appeared to be the beginnings of sooty mold on a few of the other leaves. I took a few steps back to get a broader view of the rest of the plants, and sure enough, they all displayed similar symptoms.
Aphids.
In all my years of gardening, I'd never had an outbreak of aphids like what I was seeing here. I usually watered the garden twice a week, and I found myself slack-jawed at the sight of an infestation this significant after only a few days. The ladybugs in the garden usually took care of that, and I'd made sure there were plenty in the garden to stave off any pests and to let them match their vibrant colors with the flowers and vegetables.
I blinked, and it hit me like a train.
With haste, I began a scan of the garden on its perimeter. I passed by the numerous species of flowers and vegetables I'd been growing, and the pit in my stomach grew larger: not only was there not a single ladybug in sight, but some of the other plants I'd been unable to see on first glance also appeared to be suffering from the aphid infestation. It didn't take long for me to get back to where I started, and with a glance at the sky, I found myself plopped on the grass next to my still-full watering can.
The time for swarming had already passed, and even then, I made sure the ladybugs stuck around. I'd never seen a situation where they outright disappeared, and I'd seen one even just a few days ago after Twilight—
"I have a thing with ladybugs."
Immediately, I pushed the thought away.
Twilight would never do anything so ridiculous to get rid of all my ladybugs, even if there was some way she could. I'd been appalled at her actions at our Sunday brunch, but it was just a mistake, of course: she didn't mean to do it in front of me, and she'd even told me that she wouldn't do it again. I felt more laughter build up, but it wasn't at Angel Bunny this time: It was because I knew that thinking this incident had anything to do with her would be absurd.
But as I watered the rest of the plants, I had a very simple thought. It crowded my head when I went back inside, it crowded my head when I made dinner, and when I finally shut the lights off in my room and crawled under my blankets and felt the weight of them sprawl over me, it was blaring in my mind like a raid siren as I stared at the ceiling.
Was it?
It was. It was a stupid, silly thought about one of my best friends who would never, ever, ever do such a thing.
But I had to know.
The next day, I brought another group of ladybugs to the garden. And the next night, I didn't crawl into bed.
This is dumb.
Sitting by your garden at three in the morning was dumb.
Waiting for somepony you know won't show up is dumb.
Waiting for an insect that sleeps at night to do something is dumb.
That's what it was.
Dumb.
And yet I sat on a chair next to my hose and my watering can, and I stared. The garden had become a mass of shapes and faint colors in the darkness, and the instruments of spring I was so used to hearing had been laid to rest with their musicians. Instead, every creak and pop the night had to offer sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my eyes dart back and forth to shapes and shadows in the night I knew all too well were figments of my mind.
"Hello?" I called out for the billionth time. A tree branch fluttered in response, and the noise was enough to make me leap from my chair before logic pulled me back to earth.
After hours of standing watch, I was starting to doubt whether I really didn't want to see Twilight. She'd come and tell me how silly this was, she'd tell me she was sorry, and I'd wish her a nice night as we both parted ways. She wouldn't be stealing my ladybugs. She wouldn't be sneaking onto my property. She'd come because she knew there was something wrong with me, and because she was Twilight Sparkle, she'd make everything okay.
But she wouldn't come. No, among the bumps and whistles and shroud of the night, I was sitting in my backyard at three in the morning entirely alone. My eyelids were fighting valiantly, but they wouldn't hold the line for long — I felt my limbs grow heavier by the second, and even the chill of the spring wind couldn't chill me as I sat watching nothing.
I stared at the garden one last time, begging it to show me something that made this whole ordeal worthwhile, but it simply stared back. After a few blinks that teetered far too close to the edge of sleep, I slowly rose from my chair, grabbed it, and headed for my shed.
It was only a few feet away, but it seemed like lightyears. I managed to find the handle amidst the gloom and pulled it, opening the door to reveal a few precious lines in the pitch black. I'd never had a reason to open the shed this late into the evening before, so I fumbled around on the right side wall.
Eventually, I felt the small chain that activated the lamp, and I yanked on it as hard as I could. In a flash, the light flooded my eyes, and I quickly pulled a hoof up to shield myself from the blinding. The ceiling was adorned with a single uncovered bulb, and I made a mental note to get something to cover it for when I was ever out here late at night again.
Once the flash died down, its contents slowly faded into view.
Everything was where I'd left it, of course. I didn't know what I was even expecting of myself at this point, but my jaw forced itself to widen in a yawn as I placed the chair in its usual spot.
And so, I turned out the light, closed the shed door, and headed back to the house, passing the hose and watering can on the way. It was going to take a lot of sleep to make up for this, and the words of the conciliatory note I’d have to write to Angel staggered through my mind as I staggered through the door and into my kitchen.
Against all odds, I made it over to my sink, guiding my hoof to the handle. I watched the water cascade down, as if to challenge the steady rhythm to put me to sleep, but a quick splash of cold water to the eyes put that thought to rest..
I blinked the wetness out of my eyes, and that's when I saw her.
I blinked again. And again, until the last hint of sleep had been dashed from my mind and I could be absolutely sure what I was seeing through my kitchen window was no delusion.
Twilight Sparkle was standing in the middle of my garden.
Surely, I would have heard her arrive while I was placing my chair back in my shed. And yet, here she was, standing with her back toward me and looking out into the night. With a speed I didn't know I had, I threw myself into the door I'd just used and ran past my hose and my watering can to face the mare I'd been waiting on all night.
Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung slightly ajar as she stood over the now-trampled plants. I stopped at the edge of the garden and waited for her to acknowledge me, but I found myself taking a lone step back when the silence in the air became too much to handle.
I might as well have not been there.
And just as I was about to let my voice call her name, I heard a slow, steady rumble.
It was quiet at first, but it had become loud enough to cut me off. It was a soft, droning noise, but as it went on and on and on, and it grew louder and louder and louder, it turned from a rumble to a sickening buzz. It started in the center of the garden, but in a mere few seconds, it seemed like it was coming from everywhere. I locked my hooves to my ears and cowered down on the grass, but Twilight stood still as a stone, her gaze fixed to the night.
So I said her name.
"Twilight?"
And she turned to me.
Her pupils had grown bigger than the moon hanging behind her. Her mouth still hung open ever so slightly, but she said nothing. She simply stared at me, unblinking, as the buzzing grew louder and louder.
Then, a single ladybug crawled across her eye.
And then another.
Another, and another, until tens of them streaked across both her eyeballs. I scrambled backwards, gasping, but Twilight did nothing of the sort. As the buzzing got louder and the ladybugs crawling out of her eye sockets and across her face and out of her open mouth grew a thousandfold, she didn't move a muscle. Their numbers grew exponentially by the second, and I managed to squeak out a command towards the bugs infesting my best friend.
"H-Hey, c-cut that out!"
They didn't listen. They just grew, and it got the point where I could only barely see little patches of her lavender fur and fleeting wisps of the whites of her eyes. I tried to scream, but it caught in my throat. It didn’t matter; I wouldn't have heard it anyway over the deafening, all-consuming buzzing.
She took a step toward me.
Slowly she advanced. Of their own accord, my wings kicked out from my side and I took to the air, only to feel a crushing weight pull me straight back down to earth. A film of pink magic enveloped my vision, and this time my scream did come out as I clawed at the dirt in front of me. There wasn't any point in trying, though, because whatever had possessed the body of my closest friend was far too powerful for me to resist.
I felt myself slipping backward, and my hooves simply could not hold me. I felt my back leg touch her fur, and my muscles locked themselves tight as I was forcibly turned to face her.
I couldn't scream. I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe lest the creatures find a way to take me over, too. She was completely shrouded now, the bugs running a marathon across her body while what should have been eyes watched me quiver. For an everlasting moment, nothing happened, and the buzzing that had overwhelmed my every sense seemed to slow as the figure towered above me.
A ladybug dropped onto my leg.
I could almost hear my rapid breaths over the noise as it began to crawl toward me. Another dropped from her face to my stomach. One from her leg flew onto my hoof.
Then they were upon me.
Thousands of them, falling like rain. The tickling sensation of them crawling up my skin was unbearable, and I violently flailed across the garden grass in an effort to stave them off. I blindly swatted my hooves across my body, but it was no use: There were simply too many, and the moment I felt an itching sensation across my eye and blot of darkness cascade across it, I couldn't stop a shriek into the gloom.
My vision began to slowly fade as the black specks invaded my vision. I found myself unable to move as the swarm worked its will, and the last thing I remembered before the mass overtook me was a trillion legs doing the waltz across my tongue.
I shrieked to no one as I shot out of bed.
As I desperately tried to get my breath back, I ran a hoof along my fur to find it drenched in sweat. The bedsheets were, too, and I quickly hopped out of the bed and got back on all fours as I looked wildly around the room.
Standing in my doorway was Angel Bunny, his brows raised and a frown painted across his face. The images of the bugs infesting me briefly flashed through my mind, but I let a sigh escape me as I stared to the ceiling as blissful understanding washed over me.
"I'm okay, Angel," I told him, trotting over to him and leaning down to meet his eyes. I gave him a few pats on the head, and I could see him loosen up as I flashed him a smile.
"I just had a bad dream. I'm very sorry I missed your breakfast. Should I go get a carrot from the fridge?" Any concern Angel had seemed to have been entirely erased from his memory as his head nodded up and down at a mile a minute. With a laugh, I rose from my kneeling position and headed out the door, but I didn't make my way to the kitchen quite yet.
"Let me take a moment to brush my mane. I'll be quick." Making sure to put somewhat of a spring in my step, I rounded a corner and carefully pulled open the bathroom door. I felt for the light switch for a second too long before finally flicking it on and taking an immediate look at my reflection.
My twisting and turning last night had turned my mane into a vast tangle. My eyes still hung a bit low from the turbulent slumber, but that wasn't anything a splash of water couldn't solve.
I hummed the first tune that came to my mind as I grabbed the manebrush to the right of me. I began to streak it across the chaos as I watched my reflection work in the mirror, and I could see myself wince with every tight pull to straighten out a knot or a kink.
With another stroke of the brush, a ladybug flew from my mane.
I thought back to the garden, and all the Spring days I would water the plants as they danced across the leaves and their scarlet bodies twinkled in the midday sun. Its little wings fluttered as it landed on the mirror in front of me.
And with a slow press of my hoof, I made sure it stayed there.
Squish.
