The Swish of the Scythe

Twilight crawled into bed as soon as she arrived home at sunset that night, pretending to fall asleep. She wanted to sleep. She wasn't tired, but she wanted to wake up and realise that the whole day had been a dream. She wanted her sister to be alive, to be alive herself, in her old body, free of her new enslavement. Sleep never came, however, and the truth settled upon her. She was a prisoner to a demon, and a demon herself.

As the moon rose, Twilight stood and watched it cast its beautiful light over the land. 1870's London was not pretty, but its streets covered in blackened coal did not look as sooty in the moonlight. She could see all of the little skulls and crossbones through walls and and rooves. She hated that sight. She did not want to do this.

Suddenly, the window opened and Twilight was sucked out of her room. She floated higher and higher, surrounded by a magical aura. She lost her vision. It felt like she had lost consciousness, yet she could feel all of the changes happening to her. She felt huge wings growing out of her back, feathered wings, but these were no angel's wings. She felt her clothes change: her dress, her shoes, a pair of long gloves. Something else was on her back. Her hair was thrown upwards by the wind and something circled her eyes. Finally, a single horn grew out of her forehead.

She opened her eyes. She felt different. She felt that the name Twilight Sparkle no longer suited her. No. She was Midnight Sparkle now. She saw all the little skulls and crossbones, and smiled. All she could think about was serving her purpose: killing. These people had done unspeakable things, and their souls would be lost once they died. She felt the scythe strapped to her back. That was how Midnight Sparkle would do her job.

She flew down to the street, wondering who to silence first. She spotted a skull and crossbones and stepped through a window. Curious, she stuck her arm through the wall and drew it back. She was solid, yet the wall seemed to part for her and her alone. A few cracks showed where it had parted. She could find anyone this way.

Midnight turned to the sleeping man in his bed. He was a murderer, one of the ones who hadn't been caught. She took the scythe from her back. It was not strapped, as she had previously thought; it seemed to stick between her wings like a pin being attracted to a magnet. She looked at the man, and beheaded him, the scythe making that soft swish that she loved. She swished the scythe over his head and body, and his spirit sat up.
"You are evil," she told him, "and have tainted the world by harming the innocent. Your spirit shall be lost until you have paid the price." The spirit seemed to evaporate in front of her eyes.

Part of Midnight Sparkle felt strange. She didn't want to kill, yet felt compelled to do so. She decided to continue. She dealt with thieves and cheaters, liars and killers that night. She was disappointed when the moon started to cross the horizon and disappear. She wanted to continue, yet she knew the rules. She could kill as a human, but could not get caught. She was allowed to be seen as a demon a few times, to spread rumours and stop people from being evil, but she knew that it was best that she wasn't seen.

She flew back to her house - she no longer saw it as a home - and blacked out again. She felt the scythe and the wings disappear, then the rings of flame around her eyes and the horn. Her clothes changed back and she fell onto her bed. She panted and realised that she could see again.

Twilight recalled the events of the previous night. She had killed ten people: four men and six women. Moreover, she remembered that she had wanted to do so. She had loved listening to the swish of the scythe as it entered someone's heart or took their head. She had loved watching the blood trickle. She had enjoyed every moment of the night, except knowing that she would be human again in the morning. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked around and saw all of those skulls and crossbones. She was no longer human. She was a monster.

"Midnight Sparkle," the demon said. She felt the rings of flame burn around her eyes and turned to face him. She said, "How can I help you?" She did not want to but did as he said. He had cast some kind of curse to stop her from disobeying his orders.
"I came to congratulate you on your first night. It went very smoothly. Ten. That's a lot of people for the first night."
"I aim to finish as many tasks as possible every night," said Twilight immediately. No. Midnight. That was her name now. "This is only the beginning of what I can do, but I need to warm up and practise before I can do my job more efficiently."
"I admire your ambitions and your work. You do not disappoint."
"Thank you." She did not want to respond. She seemed to before she could even think about it.
"I shall be in touch, but only when you are alone," he told her before disappearing. She turned away and caught her reflection in the mirror.

She was disgusted as looked in the mirror. For just ten seconds, she saw her demon self: her complexion, of a darker shade of purple than normal; the dark blue wings and her scythe; her deep purple dress with hints of dark pink; the blue flames at her eyes, which were completely light blue save for her dark blue, cat-like retinas; her purple and pink hair tousled and thrown upwards, now with some black streaks; and the long, gnarled, light blue horn. She blinked and it was all gone, just a bad memory, a bad taste in her mouth. Except it was not. She would become that thing every night until she was killed. She hated herself.

She turned and saw a skull and crossbones coming from her parents' bedroom.