Return to Bittersweet Apple Acres

From that point forward, I had known that it was do or die in that place. Every decision I had made up to that point had ended the lives of two wonderful ponies that I'd cared for greatly, damning them to eternal suffering that had no end or mercy.

After Sarah, I didn't know what to expect, and only had hoped that Henry was still alive and hadn't been caught. He was smart and clever, and, in my mind, even if that place had been controlled by the demented entities that were the Apple family, I just knew that he had the brain to outwit those demons!

He'd gotten out of plenty of sticky situations before and had done the impossible to overcome them! Surely he could outlast the Apple family's sick game of hide and seek, right?!

You already know the answer to that question as much as me, so I won't bother with wasting time on my pointless hopes of what could've been.

One thing is true though about my statements; Henry had outlasted the chase the longest and, along with me, had nearly made it out alive.

Or so we had thought.

We quickly had learned just how disturbingly great the Apple family had been at feeding you false hope; the very thing that kept the massacre going for an entire decade.

The very thing that had nearly led me to my end and eternal damnation at the hooves of the mare known infamously as, Bittersweet Applejack.

One year earlier

Hours had passed since Flora had witnessed her friend's head being crushed like a bug, and, after she had left that torture room, had taken refuge in a seemingly-good enough hiding spot. From the room, it had led to a staircase that led to a series of rooms; rooms whoms sights would be forever burned into Flora's memories.

The first contained what had looked like an aged dentist chair and a pair of restraints that hung from opposite walls by chains connected to a large pair of rusted steel rings. Off the side had been a table with things like scalpels, scissors, a hammer, and even a cleaver laid out in an unordererly fashion, and the chair and floor had been soaked in blood stains.

The second had just a single bloody hook hanging from the ceiling along with its own tray of torture tools, the assortment being much different and intended for much more violent means.

By just one tiny glance at the inside if the third, Flora had only turn and ran, the room having contained a lone saw table with a recently gutted victim upon it in searing agony.

She'd already learned her lesson twice, and knew the victim was already forsaken to a grim fate, so she just ran as fast as she could, not even caring which way she wandered. She just wanted the horror to end, and it seemed the only way to avoid any true terror was to just keep moving.

She had no idea how long she'd been there, hoping for the night to end and be able to go home. She didn't care if she got in trouble for trespassing on prohibited property, if her mom drunkenly grounded her for months, if she had to serve probation or community service; ANYTHING was better than there.

After finding her current hiding spot, all she had done was think. How would she tell Trevor and Sarah's parents about the absence of their child?

She couldn't speak the truth, EVER. Nopony would ever believe her and she would probably end up in the nuthouse. She could only go on with those horrid memories and do everything she could to keep everypony crazy enough to learn more about the Apple Family Massacre away from that cursed foundation.

She now understood what Crimson Flash had meant upon the decree of attempting to bury that grim decade of murder and tragedy completely; you couldn't bury it even if you tried, because the memories still live on, and the spirit force of the Apple family had been strong enough to remain on the foundation due to the fact that those who knew of it would carry on their "legacy."

By retelling the story of the Apple Family Massacre, some ponies dumb enough, like her, would go looking for answers, drawing more victims back to the slaughter.

In truth, the Apple family never died, and their terror continued still to that day. The thought of it made Flora shiver in the grotesque realization of her actions.

She should've never bat an eye at the Apple Family Massacre. Maybe if she hadn't, her friends would still be alive and they'd be doing something else not as stupid to celebrate Nightmare Night.

Getting candy-drunk.

Vandalizing houses of ponies she doesn't like with toilet paper.

Trying something stupid like a mixed drink out of peer pressure.

But no. Instead, she'd never get to potentially do that or anything with Sarah or Trevor. She had forsaken them to something more unimaginable, and, in her eyes, unforgivable.

She had cried at the thought, feeling she should just call out the demonic headless witch pursuing her to join them in the same fate, but something forbid her.

Doing so would hurt more than just her. Her mother who was already unstable enough from her past, having resorted to alcohol whenever she spent the night all alone. She'd drink herself to death just to reach her only daughter, only to be even more devastated at the confirmation that her daughter is not wherever you go when the sand finally runs out.

Flora couldn't allow that. Her mother had birthed and raised her practically alone, and had given her the best life possible.

She couldn't just repay the mare who had shaped and made her into the mare she was with just a basic suicide. She had to do what her mom had taught her; to be strong and keep trying your hardest no matter what.

But her strength was beginning to dwindle like a flickering flame in wind, and she honestly had no idea where to go from where she was. She knew she couldn't just wait it out and expect the predators chasing her to just give up; she knew it wouldn't be THAT easy, and that if she made it to the final minutes of the night, the danger would increase ten fold.

These weren't just regular ponies that give up easily; these were ruthless and sinister killers that would chase her to the ends of the world just to please their sick and twisted joys of capturing ponies and killing them.

It was like a drug with an intense high to them, and they lived for that sensation and drive. They wouldn't give up until Flora's hooves were bound and her muzzle was dressed with a stained cloth.

They would hunt her for eternity.

"How did you get here, Flora?" she asked herself in her head. "How did Sarah and Trevor end up dead, when they still had so much to live for? So young and vibrant, taken in an instant…

She wanted to cry again, but she had no tears left to shed. Therefore, she just thought and thought, more and more.

"I can't keep dreading over what's already been done. They're dead and there's nothing I can do about it. I need to move forward and try to find Henry. Knowing him, he would've observed his surroundings and used them to his advantage; he wouldn't have stayed on the path, he would've broken from it and tried another way."

Flora knew Henry well and that when it came to hiding, he was a pro at it. She had no idea where he was, and maybe that was a good thing. She remembered the way she had gotten to Sarah, and knew immediately that if Henry had seen an opportunity as such, he wouldn't hesitate to abuse it.

He could be less than ten feet from her, and she'd never even know; that's how sneaky and crafty Henry Quickwit was in a sticky situation.

She also knew that Henry couldn't be her top objective, and that her top mission was survival. Her chances of finding Henry were less to none, and if she only focused on finding him in a maze of hundreds of twists and turns, she'd most likely be caught.

"It's not a matter of saving lives anymore, Flora. What matters is getting the hell out of here with your heart still beating and body in one piece. If Henry doesn't make it, in the end, there was nothing you could do."

She prepared herself, taking one last close listen for any dangers nearby.

No hooves.

No voices.

No laughter or misleading screams.

All that had occupied the space was the creaks of the many pipes, and the ringing hidden within the silence. She sighed upon the relief of the area being clear of any danger, moving to slide the wall she was hidden behind open to the familiar sight of a hall lined with pipes and a single narrow walkway.

The wall sliding open produced a very audible creak, making her heart race in fear of Applejack catching wind of her location. Luckily, she was fortunate, but didn't stick around, moving forward into the labyrinth, coming to a crossroads in her trot.

It wasn't clear on which way to go, both paths seeming the exact same. Flora didn't want to just leave it up to an eeny, meeny, miny, moe decision, knowing her decisions actually mattered in this place.

For all she knew, one path could lead to an alternate exit or an imminent death trap, so she smartly put her ear outward to listen for anything suspicious down each path. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear anything in particular down either and cursed silently at the fact that she just had to choose one and hope it was the right one.

Considering she was right-hoofed, she decided on that and cautiously worked her way deeper into the maw of the creepily-ambient tunnel. It extended for about another forty feet, up until it came to a right turn, which Flora peeked around to examine before even putting herself out in the open like a deer in the headlights.

Strangely, it led to just another door, to which she curiously stepped forward to and attempted to open, thinking maybe it could be some other exit. She was surprised when the door didn't seize and opened with ease, leading into a room with empty wooden shelves off to each side, and a long wooden cellar entrance on the floor.

The entrance was a two-door entrance composed of rotted wood and chipped white paint slowly coming off with age. No chains or lock bound the two doors together, causing Flora to wonder what may lie behind that door and if she should go down in hopes of there being some alternate route that led elsewhere outside of the labyrinth.

Then she remembered what happened to victims stupid enough to wander into a basement or cellar in the many horror movies she'd seen, having second thoughts immediately. Going down most likely meant an immediate dead end where she'd be killed or captured, so she started to turn to go back the opposite way, up until a sound suddenly caught her ears.

The sound of hooves growing in volume close by.

She wanted to believe it could be Henry, but she wasn't an idiot, knowing she was at a dead end, and, most likely, dead if she waited to see. She didn't even give a second thought and moved to opening the cellar doors, their hinges singing upon being lifted, but not loud enough to raise any attention.

Flora didn't even wait to hear if the pony had caught wind of her location and just rushed into what looked like a dark abyss with only two visible steps from the top. She didn't care, and to be absolutely sure that she didn't give her pursuer any hint that she was here, she closed the cellar doors behind her.

Immediately, darkness drowned her vision, and with only about thirty seconds of separation between her and the other pony, began to step carefully. Her heart pounded with terror, stepping down into the pitch black with care and haste, and eventually reaching the bottom floor without actually falling or hitting anything.

The floor was cold, Flora guessing it being concrete, as she put her hooves out to feel for whatever may dwell in this pit of hell. She couldn't feel anything, but still didn't think for a second that she was home-free or safe at all, continuing to navigate with care.

It was as if she were wandering in an endless void, no end in sight or anything in general around her as she continued to move across the room quickly enough to make enough distance between her and the pony to not be spotted immediately.

Upon a cold touch to her front right hoof, she jumped, feeling around further and finding what felt like the outline of a shelf. Carefully, she searched for the open end of the shelf, being careful not to knock it over at the slightest dancing of her nerves.

The creaking of the hinges from the cellar doors sang out, causing Flora's heart to drop, praying she hadn't ended up in a dead end situation. The light from the upper floor shone down, allowing her to actually see the outline of the room faintly but clear enough.

Upon her eyes meeting the contents of the room, she nearly lost her stomach.

Jars.

Hundreds of neatly labeled and organized jars stocked on wooden shelves, all filled and sealed with a crimson liquid.

Flora knew exactly where she was now.

This was where the victim's blood was stored away.

Every single one of them.

A smell suddenly became evident to Flora's nostrils and it almost overwhelmed her to the point of passing out, but her survival instincts stopped it.

Copper.

As if she were in a vault of freshly made copper bits, with an added touch of the scent of rot.

Flora had wandered into a graveyard and slaughterhouse.

The pony was luring in closer, so Flora moved silently to the backside of the shelf on the far right side of the room, crouching down and covering her muzzle with her hooves.

Not long after she'd taken refuge, her pursuer had entered the room fully, carrying something on their shoulder. She recognized the pony just from their stock body as the same who had tortured and killed Sarah, but whatever was over their shoulder was out of her view.

Quietly, she maneuvered to where she could see better, only to regret it instantly.

It was Sarah, unharmed and tied up.

Flora was about to make an attempt to rescue her, up until she remembered Jane Doe. She'd been killed already, but looked fine and alive, aside from her hidden injuries behind the rag. Sarah had clearly died; she had seen it with her own eyes, and, now, this must be what happens after somepony becomes an eternal victim.

As much as it pained her to watch this, she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to save Sarah anymore, so she just had to bite the bullet or close her eyes. However, upon the sudden sound of another pair of hooves, Flora jumped in surprise.

From the stairs came Applejack, still headless but no less terrifying. She carried nothing, and just approached Big Mac.

"Ya know I like ya better with yur head," Big Mac stated. "Reminds me of our lively days together, ya know?"

"Hmph, fine," Applejack scoffed. "I figured you'd gotten used to headless me by now, but just for you, Big Mac."

Then something began to happen; hundreds of tendrils shot from Applejack's neck and began to contort and shift into something full. Then fur began to grow, emerald eyes formed, and every feature of a natural pony's head took full form.

In place of what was once empty space was now a head with fully functional organs, freshly grown tan fur, and a stetson placed atop her head.

"There, happy?" she questioned with slight irritation.

"Eeyup," Big Mac answered.

Applejack just rolled her eyes, walking toward Sarah with a malevolent look on her face.

SMACK!

"Wake up!" Applejack commanded violently, Sarah's eyes opening slowly.

Sarah immediately started to object in absolute terror and desperation for somepony to hear and save her, her voice muffled by the rag covering her muzzle. The pleas and cries from Sarah sprung a demonic grin on Applejack's face, to which she just laughed.

"Help me! Save me! Don't let me die, Celestia above!" Applejack mocked. "It's always the same, but guess what, sugar? It always ends the same too. We killed that pompous bitch and er' little sister over a decade ago! Ain't' no pony comin' to save ya' or able to save ya! Y'all chose this path, so live with it! Y'all chose to come back and visit the Apple's, so be a good guest and shut up!"

Another hard and violent strike across Sarah's face landed, and to Flora's absolute horror, it had been devastating enough to dislocate Sarah's jaw, now dangling like a dead leaf to a tree branch. She wanted so badly to stop this, but she just kept telling herself that there was nothing she could do and held herself to her position.

Sarah was crying now much to Applejack's displeasure, but it was enough to please her to where she stopped the violence.

"Much better. It's very impolite to act so disrespectful while a guest here, so it's best ya' learn to behave. After all, you're gonna be here for a LONG time, so best ya' get comfy to your new accommodations.

You'll serve much a good purpose here, and will for such a long time, but first, we have a special little welcoming ritual for y'all to make it official."

She gave Big Mac a signal to proceed, to which he grabbed a jar of the same size from just outside Flora's sight and placed it just below the jugular of Sarah's neck.

Flora knew what was coming next and couldn't watch, closing her eyes and covering her ears.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah…

Applejack opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a sheathed knife, pulling it from its leather home and approaching Sarah again. Sarah's actions intensified instantly, doing everything she could to break her binds and her screams rising in volume and severity.

Applejack could've cared less, forcing Sarah's head back and playfully hovering the knife's blade just above her flesh.

"Ya see, if ya wanna be one of our family, ya must commit to it, and that means givin' up whatever holds you to any other family, includin' your own. Don't worry though, I promise that we'll make yur sacrifice worth it by givin' y'all the best treatment we can offer here at Sweet Apple Acres. So sorry the conditions must be so "tragic," but that's just how things are here, so without any further objections, I-

The blade's tip entered deep into the right side of Sarah's neck and glided across slowly, up until it met the same spot on the opposite side.

-welcome ya' to the Apple family!"

Blood had started to splatter everywhere from the wound, into the jar and filling quickly. Sarah choked and coughed as she fought endlessly against Applejack's strength, her fate sealed in stone.

It was a painful amount of time before Sarah's jar had finally been filled to the brim, her body having gone limp in her confines, and upon Applejack letting her head back forth, collapsed to the floor dead as grass in winter.

"That never gets old," Applejack said coldly, rotating the jar atop her right hoof. "Nor does the warm feeling of a newly filled jar of their life supply."

Big Mac nodded in agreement.

"I'll dispose of er' body in the orchard while
ya' work on findin' those last two," Big Mac informed. "Time is runnin' out, so we can't just keep toyin' with em.' We need to finish em.'

"Yeah. No more playin' around with em'. It's time for some fun. I especially have plans for that one that got away. Next time I get a hold of that Goldilocks, I won't hesitate to knock her out!

After yur done with that bag of skin and bone, I want ya' to get back to makin' the new shelf. After all, we don't want anythin' happenin' to our newest family member."

With that said, both of them departed the cellar with Sarah's lifeless husk. Once the coast was clear, Flora released her hold on her muzzle and just sat in thought.

She knew for sure now that Henry was still alive, and that this grim game of hide and seek was nearing its end. However, she also knew that the game was about to get a lot more difficult and potentially impossible.

"Stay alive a little longer, Henry."

Getting up, she prepared herself for whatever was to come.

Run.

Survive.

Don't stop.

Failure not an option.