Author's Note
Looking for a horror story that relies more on the suspense of it all, rather than outright gore shock? You've come to the right place. Yes there will be some gore, but not a heavy amount of it. Trust me! Hope you enjoy the story - Midnight Melodica
{{I have disabled the ratings for the time being, because for some reason people find it perfectly okay to downvote horror stories specifically just for fun. I will only open them back up once my story has been completed. Please in the future, those who downvote just to be nasty because you find it fun - don't do it with my stories. It really discourages me as a writer.}}
Prologue: Fragility
Twilight had forgotten what it was once like to ponder the fragility of her own mortality, it had been so long ago now that she had worried about such an affair. Once she had descended down from the sky, blazing light surrounding her, as though she were a sailing star streaking through the eventide, and she spread her wings upon her landing- the subject matter of her own death became a distant and fading memory.
Upon the creation of new magic, Twilight had morphed from a fragile Unicorn into something resolute and timeless, into an Alicorn. Whatever plans fate had in mind for her life and how it should end, it was put on pause in the sands of trickling time. As a Unicorn she always knew in the back of her cranium, scraping like thorns against bone, that she too would one day perish as all living beings do.
Yet through some divine intervention, something more ethereal than fate could ever devise for her – intervened. It seemed so long ago now, that she had ascended into immortality, though in reality is has been only a few decades since.
Her life should have been endless, eternal – and yet...
The darkness of death had opened up its maw and plunged its fangs of poison into her, and she could feel her magic, of which should have been everlasting, being drained right out of her.
Layer after layer of magic was being painstakingly peeled away and torn asunder from her very soul. The sensation was nothing short of bloodcurdling, she could feel every little droplet dissolving as she struggled helplessly against her fate.
An ominous voice that sounded much like her own mocked her for her short sightedness. She should have seen something such as this coming. She should have spent several more hours preparing herself, because everything that could have gone wrong was going wrong, oh so terribly wrong.
And the fault lies with no one else but herself. She had brought this upon herself, she had been so desperate, she had only wished to help soothe a suffering that no pony should ever have to endure, and it was costing her dearly.
“Tw....Twi......i....l...ight....” Whisperings of the suffering, the ones she had failed, filtered through her ears and reverberated through her cranium. These lost souls cried out to her, begging and pleading with her.
To save them? To join them? To...?
She didn’t know, she couldn’t understand them. The whisperings were so distorted, as though she were receiving them from underneath the oppressive crushing weight of ruthless ocean waves. Waves within which she was already beginning to drown in.
“No! Please, don’t do this – please! I know you can hear me; I know that you’re hurting, and you feel alone, but this isn’t the answer!”
Her words surged forth on a wave of rising and swelling panic, she thrashed about as she sunk further and further down into the murky abyss. Down she was dragged, deeper, deeper, and deeper still. Dragged farther and farther away from the precious golden light of Celestia’s sun that she now understood between her wails – she would never see again.
Shackles of thorns and vines slithered across her skin, scraping and rending against her flesh – tighter and tighter, constricting and gouging into her muscles.
The large tendrils were moving with a magic she could not identify, and it was gradually sapping away at her life, it would drink all of it bone dry. Leaving her nothing but a lifeless shell within this chilled crevasse of the earth.
This hollow of displaced earth would soon claim her life, a life which should have gone without end.
“Please! Please, let me go!” Twilight writhed frantically, her hooves banging against the floor and walls of earth within the belly of the tomb, she could feel her strength waning and her eyes burning with the stinging of dust that she had stirred up.
Her wings flittered and fluttered urgently; her feathers trailed across the dirt. Her efforts did little more than stir up more dust and debris. Along with a spray of rose petals, all a multitude of colors.
She could see within the dim and draining light of her horn, that there were patches of multi-colored roses all littering the ground before her.
The putrid stench of rot and decay seeped through her nostrils, and settled thickly in the back of her mouth, retching she could taste her own death looming on the edge of this ominous struggle – knowing she wouldn’t survive.
No creature could hear her buried underneath the stone and earth, no one knew she was here, not even her friends - because they had all vanished one after another, most likely meeting upon the very same fate Twilight was now being subject to.
They were all gone, and she was left all alone, to die all alone. This wasn't her plan, she had come here with a plan, she was going to fix this, all of this. Once she had learned the twisted truth of it all, she was going to come here and bring forth consolation, being dragged down into the darkness had not been a part of that grandiose plan.
Go figure, right? After all, since when had any of her plans ever gone accordingly? Yet, a fragile hope clung inside of her heart, that maybe she could still salvage this. That she could free them from their eternal suffering, even if they shouldn't ever live again. However, as the seconds melted away, and the agony spiraled through her body- she couldn't help but let that hope dwindle away.
It shriveled up like a withered rose and died. Dead and gone, as she too would be.
There would be no rainbow of friendship at the end of this turbulent nebula of necrosis, all that waited for her in this terminus was the Grim Reaper himself, swaying his scythe like a pendulum. A ticking clock marching down to the last seconds of the élan vital of her essence.
For the first time in decades, Twilight pondered the fragility of her own mortality...
As her mind was pulled back into the last fleeting weeks of her life. The haunting images of various hued roses upon a lonely little grave carved itself into the last memory her dying mind would ever create.
