Time Turner sat in his train seat, shifting uncomfortably. He had been sitting in one place for what felt like ages, but could only have been a few hours. He turned to look out the window at the sea of tall grass that framed the pony-made plateau of dirt the train tracks sat on, all lit by the full moon hanging high in the sky. He tipped his head back into the cushion and sighed.

“I should have gotten a sleeper car,” He thought with a grimace as he popped his neck. “The extra bits were probably worth it.”

As Time Turner made himself as comfortable as he could, the train whistle cut through the muffled noise of wheels on tracks. He could feel the train slow to a stop, and he took the opportunity to carefully maneuver himself over the pony sitting next to him and make his way to the door of the car. He slid it open and took a deep breath of fresh air. He stepped down off the traincar’s coupler, relishing the feeling of dirt on his hooves. He took another deep breath and sighed.

“Excuse me, sir, please go back to your car,” The voice came from Time Turner’s side, causing him to jump and turn, being blinded by the lantern being pointed at his face. He squinted and tried to look past the light, lifting a hoof to block it.

The light dimmed and revealed the tired-looking conductor. “We’re stopping for a moment to build up some steam, please go back to your car,” The conductor said again, beginning to usher Time Turner back toward the stairs of the coupler.

“Surely I have time to take a little walk,” Time Turner pleaded, not wanting to go back to his uncomfortable seat.

The conductor thought for a moment before speaking. “Alright, but once we’re ready to go, I’m only going to call you twice.” He turned away, trotting back toward the train’s engine. “We leave whether or not you’re on board,” He called over his shoulder.

Time Turner turned and trotted toward the caboose, stretching his legs as he went. The cool night air felt good against his coat and stood in stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere of the full train car. As Time Turner passed the caboose, he turned around to walk back toward the train car. His return journey was halted by a small patch of bluish light that began emanating from an area of the tall grass that framed the train tracks. As the light grew closer to the hill, Time Turner could hear whispering coming from the light, but just as fast as it had appeared, the light dimmed and took the whispers with it.

Another light appeared further away from the hill, the accompanying whispers louder than last time.

“Hello?” Time Turner called out to the light, which cut the whispers short and dimmed the light ever-so-slightly.

“Is,” Time Turner began walking toward the dim light, sliding down the hill slightly, struggling to keep his balance on the loose dirt. “Is anypony out there?”

As he slid down the hill, he could see the faint glow had moved deeper into the grass. He took a tentative step forward. “Do you need help?” He called, taking slow steps closer to the glow.

Just as Time Turner was about to part the grass that he assumed would show him what was making the light, it winked out, leaving him in the silent dark. He furrowed his brow and squinted into the dark.

Another light sparked into existence a few yards away to his side, the whispers louder, and had they been just a little louder, Time Turner figured he’d be able to understand them. He turned and began rustling through the grass toward the light. Deciding not to speak this time, he inched his way toward the light, staying as still as possible. The light still went out.

Time Turner grumbled in frustration and turned to walk back to the train when he was struck with a pang of fear. He couldn’t see the train, and he had forgotten which way he came from. Time Turner began to sweat as he pushed himself up on his hind legs to try and get a better view. It wasn’t of any use, he still couldn’t see the train. He took a jump up in the air and saw many more blots of light spread throughout the grass, then landed with a huff. Time Turner began to pant and stare at the floor, frantically trying to think what direction he’d need to walk in to get back to the train, not noticing that a patch of light had come into existence until he was staring at his shadow, surrounded with a pale blue light. He turned around and heard rustling as the light circled him, the source just out of view. Time Turner tracked the light with his eyes, the feeling of panic setting in as he watched it float in a circle.

That’s when the whispers started. They were just beyond a thin veil of grass, but Time Turner couldn’t understand them, as if they were speaking another language.

“Who’s there?” Time Turner cried out at the light, getting nothing in response. The light went still, making Time Turner back up in fear.

As Time Turner backed up, the source of the whispering and the light revealed itself.

It was almost a pony, but it had a completely featureless face. Where there should have been eyes, a mouth, and a nose, there was only pale blue fur. The whole creature was glowing, and as Time Turner emitted a strangled cry upon seeing the thing, it lunged at him, a growl emanating from deep in its throat. Time Turner screamed in fear and began galloping in the opposite direction.

The grass whipped at his face and legs, but he didn’t care, as long as he was getting away from the thing. He was so focused on getting away from the creature that was originally chasing him that he didn’t notice the light that was following alongside him until another one of the almost-ponies leapt out at him and slammed into his barrel, knocking him down. It leapt on top of him, another growl coming from its throat. Time Turner watched as the almost-pony opened its mouth, the skin that covered it splitting and tearing, revealing dozens of small teeth that were the size of a needle and just as sharp. It was about to tear a chunk out of Time Turner’s neck when the first almost-pony to chase him appeared from the grass and tackled the second one off of Time Turner. The two creatures began to bat at each other with their hooves, distracting them and giving Time Turner the opportunity to escape.

Time Turner’s lungs were beginning to burn, but he kept galloping. A newfound sense of hope filled him as he heard the train conductor calling from far behind him.

“All aboard!” The conductor shouted. Time Turner skidded to a halt and turned around, resuming his gallop, this time toward the train.

He was moving too fast to notice the large ditch that he was heading toward until it was too late. He tumbled to the ground, his already dirty and sweat-soaked collar and tie becoming even more caked with grime. He shook his head and shakily stood up. He took a few deep breaths before he noticed the lights surrounding the crater. He screamed as one even began to burrow its way to the surface, its mouth tearing open as it screamed at its prey.

“All aboard!” The conductor shouted for a second time, snapping Time Turner out of his fearful haze and giving him the resolve to rush the almost-ponies that were blocking his way to the train: to his salvation. He let out a roar as he charged past the almost-pony that had dug its way to the surface, just barely missing getting pounced on. He put his head down and kept rushing, managing to get past the almost-ponies in front of him by luck of them crashing into each other as they jumped to try and tackle him. He could see the lights of the train now, and much to his horror, he could also hear the wheels beginning to turn and the whistle blowing.

“Wait!” Time Turner began to shout before getting slammed into the ground with a grunt by one of the creatures that had grabbed one of his hind legs. He turned over, bucking the thing in his mouth with his free leg before it could latch its jaw onto him. The thing groaned and released his leg. He scrambled to his hooves and began scurrying up the hill onto the train track.

He screamed at the train. “Wait! I’m not on board! Wait please!” But it was no use, the train was speeding up. Another one of the creatures leapt onto Time Turner, but before it could even open its mouth, it was slammed in the muzzle by a lit torch, held in the magical grip of the conductor.

“Come on!” The conductor screamed at Time Turner as he waved the torch at the horde of almost-ponies who were chasing the two. For the millionth time that night, Time Turner leapt to his hooves and began galloping. The burning in his lungs had become unbearable, but he kept galloping. The conductor had lagged behind for a few moments to keep the creatures at bay with the torch, but he quickly caught up to Time Turner, throwing the torch behind him, which caused the creatures to cease their pursuit.

The conductor leapt up the small ladder onto the rear platform of the caboose, turning around and offering a hoof for Time Turner to grab onto, which he did. He promptly collapsed and began to gasp.

“They hate fire, they hate it a lot,” The conductor said between deep breaths. Time Turner just nodded and continued to shakily breathe as he watched the almost-ponies retreat into the grass and the torch burn out on the tracks.

“What,” Time Turner had begun to steady his breathing. “Were those things?”

The conductor grimaced and unlatched the caboose door. “I don’t know, son. Maybe they were ponies who got lost out here and didn’t make it out. Maybe they’ve always lived here and no one else has lived to tell about them.” He took a step inside. “Probably best we keep this between the two of us.” Time Turner just nodded and stepped inside with the conductor, taking one last fearful glance out the back door as it slid shut. In the few seconds before the caboose went dark, Time Turner swore he could see faint patches of light in the tall grass.

Author's Note

Yes, I know I tagged the story Doctor Whooves but I said Time Turner the whole time. Mods pls don't kill me.

Let's see who knows what this story is based off of.

As always, feedback appreciated and thanks for reading

P.S, like pretty much everything I write, this was written in the early hours of the morning so excuse any flaws like improper grammar or non-pony language. I only ever get the motivation to write when I'm tired.