The Only Things For Certain
Gladmane lounged in his opulent office, upon a gaudy teal sequin-covered couch. It was nowhere near as fancy as his old place — those darned ponies with their trickery, getting him to confess to something that shouldn’t have even mattered - but at least the Golden Goose Resort was something. Here, at least, he still had respect. Here, ponies flocked — or at least came in moderately-sized herds — to relax in relative luxury and spend their hard-earned bits on some healthy and wholesome fun.
“Those poor suckers,” he chuckled. “I almost feel bad for them. No, I almost almost feel bad for them. They don’t even realize just how much moolah they’re hoofing over!” He jumped off the couch, and examined himself in a mirror, adjusting his tacky sparkly suit. “Then again, why should I feel bad? They’re enjoying the glitz and glamour, and I’m doin’ them a favor and bringing some light to their lives! And my workers have a sweet gig, even if I have to convince them of it! They don’t need to know about all the money that—”
An envelope slipped under the door, breaking his concentration. He trotted over to it, picked it up, and read the label. “From my favorite accountant! I can’t wait to find out what good news he has, uhh-huh~” Ripping open the envelope, he quickly scanned the letter, and proceeded to fall on the ground with a hoof on his chest. His heart pounded, his fur was covered with sweat, and the room spun out of control.
The letter was a warning. They were on to him.
Before Gladmane could recover, the door to his room flew open. A robed, hooded pony stood in the doorway, staring at him. Gladmane felt like they were staring into his very soul, but he could not even see the pony’s face.
[I have come for you...], they… said? The voice, if there was one, was hollow, almost non-existent, yet more real than anything he had ever heard before.
“N-no,” Gladmane squeaked. “Impossible! You can’t… you shouldn’t be here!” He shakily yet speedily rose to his hooves, and bulldozed past the hooded pony. “And neither should I! This is my cue to leave—” Halfway down the golden hall, he nearly ran right into the same figure.
[Oh come now, Gladmane, there is no need for this…]
Gladmane skidded on the red carpet and drifted into a 180 degree turn. “H-how? No! This won’t be my final performance!” He darted down the hallway now in the opposite direction, and ran into the elevator.
================================================================
The elevator doors closed, and Gladmane breathed a sigh of relief. But he was not alone. Next to him… was a grey pegasus mare with a blond mane. She seemed harmless enough, but still, her presence made the ride claustrophobic. The feeling was made worse when the mare pushed every button, meaning it was going to be a long ride down. She turned to look at Gladmane but did failed to do so. Her bright eyes refused to focus on him, as if he wasn't there. Chills ran down his spine all the way to his flicking tail.
Each floor, the elevator door opened to reveal the mysterious hooded pony, then closed as they went down again. Between them and the mare, he knew he couldn’t make it all the way to the ground floor exit.
19th floor? Hooded pony.
18th floor? Hooded pony.
17th floor? No hooded pony.
16th fl- wait. "Aw, burnin' road apples,” Gladmane cried, “missed my chance!"
Eventually, he gave in to his panic, barreling through the inevitable hooded pony and charging through the resort with reckless abandon. Any ponies in the hall that he could not zig or zag around got shoved out of the way. He refused to look back, feeling - no, knowing - that the horrible hooded horror would always be one step behind him.
Gladmane ran past door after door, finally choosing one to charge through. He ran into a darkened theater, a modest amount of ponies in the seats watching the stage. Upon it stood a cyan wizard garbed in purple, standing next to a tall, open box painted with the same stars found on her hat and cloak.
“For her next trick, The Great and Powerful Trrrixie will need a volunt—” the showmare began, only to be interrupted by Gladmane storming the stage and jumping into the box. The door closed and the box tipped over with a loud crash. “Um… that will work. I mean… yes! Trrrixie has selected her volunteer, and now…” She tapped the box, then opened it with her magic, revealing it to be empty.
The crowd goes wild.
==========================================================
“Where… am I?” Gladmane strained his eyes, trying to figure out… anything. It was useless. Just darkness stretching endlessly. He quivered in fear, but then sighed and slumped. “Well… at least I’m alone— GAH! You!”
[Me…]
Was the hooded pony truly inescapable? Was there no hope for Gladmane?
“You can’t be here. I cheated you. I evaded you!”
[Nopony cheats me. Nopony can evade me. It is time. Gladmane, you…]
But Gladmane wasn’t listening. For the second time today, he was on the ground clutching his chest. "I... I beg of you..." He reached up shakily, knocking the hood off the pony to reveal a skull. “W-wait… why do you have… why is your head… you’re not the IRS! Hahaha! I thought...! You... “ He gazed at nothing, giggling, before giving his final chuckle. “Thank you very much…”
A golden hourglass appeared in front of the skeletal pony. They tilted their head as the sands ran out.
[That was… unexpected...] they said. [Last time I checked, he had more time...]
They shrugged, then touched the motionless Gladmane, who faded away to nothing.
[I thought a job at the IRS would be an improvement. Guess I’m not cut out for that job after all. Besides…] they mused, scratching their bony chin as they faded away.
[I think ponies prefer my original job…]
Author's Note
A short story for the Quills and Sofas speedwriting group, and also my first completed MLP fanfiction. It has been edited a bit from when it was entered in the contest, but contains the same content. I welcome any comments, criticism, and questions, as long as they aren't rude.
