Silent Graves

He waited, wide-eyed and awake, until he was sure she'd fallen asleep. The only sound in the house was the gentle ticking of the clock. She'd been out cold for about fifteen minutes, and there was little chance he would disturb her slumber. He'd lived in fear of this moment for years, and he'd been so careful. Now, there was nothing he could do. There was nothing anypony could do. If he'd come home for lunch, he could have done something then, but by the time he'd arrived that evening, it was already too late.

He stood up and walked out of the room, making his way to the kitchen. The little bit of leftovers he'd not thrown out was mostly mushrooms, and he picked those out and ate just them, dumping the remaining vegetables in the trash. That started the countdown. He had thirty minutes to change his mind and call for help. He took a deep breath and reached into the fridge, pulling out the bag of morels he'd just put in. These were expensive mushrooms, and very tasty. It seemed that his family wouldn't be recovering before they expired, so he walked out of the house with them.

It was still fairly early in the evening. The sun hadn't even touched down on the edge of the horizon, much less set, so it wasn't quite a faux pas for him to knock on his neighbor's door. After a few seconds, the door opened with a smile. "Hey, man. What's goin' on?"

"I have something for you," came the stallion's response. He held up the bag. "You know how you're always asking for a discount at my market stand? Well, these are for you. No charge."

The neighbor picked them up and examined them. "What's the catch?" he asked. "Or is this because your wife came over here earlier and yelled at me?"

"No catch," he shook his head, "and no apology. I just wanted to do something nice. Truth be told, I didn't even know she had a fight with you."

"Yeah, some of my mail landed in her mailbox by accident. I guess she was pretty upset by that." To explain why, he flashed the cover of the magazine. "I think most of the reason she was angry was because she thought it was yours."

He let out a chuckle. "No, not one of mine. Anyway, enjoy those, and the rest of your night."

As the door closed and the stallion walked back into his house, he still had time to pump his stomach, but rather than doing that, he returned to his son's room, sitting down on the edge of the bed and gently stroking the colt's mane. He'd had a lot of plans for the boy, none of which were viable now. He had set aside a bank account for him to go to the college of his choice, or if he skipped college to go directly into business, he'd have a cushion to fall back on. There was a separate section reserved for his wedding, if ever he decided to marry. None of that would ever be happening.

Knowing he would never see the events unfold before him, he closed his eyes and imagined them in the most beautiful way he could. His son, all grown up, wearing his robes and hat, accepting his diploma with a big smile, and riding off in a cart with his friends to celebrate. When he came back, he had a bride, and they were ready to be married. It was a beautiful ceremony, with an absolutely spectacular cake, and hundreds of guests. His son was beloved by everyone.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as the dream faded back into reality. His son would never be graduating or marrying. Even if, by some miracle, his son would be walking out of this, his dear old dad would not be. Wiping his face, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been forty-five minutes. There was no going back now. He leaned down, kissed his son's forehead, and exited the room just as his stomach began to rumble.

He moved to the kitchen, pulled out a quill and inkwell, and began writing a letter. This would be going directly to the captain of the guard. It would tell him exactly what had happened, as well as clearing out any other legal matters. This was a confession, and it read as such. When he was done, he folded it up and slipped it into the envelope just as his own stomach began to burn. He stamped it, carried it out to the post box, and sent it off with the understanding that it would take two business days to take effect.

With that taken care of, he moved softly and silently through the house, turning off every light and closing every curtain. When the whole house was dark, he made his way into the master bedroom, wrapped his front legs around his wife's middle, and closed his eyes for the last time.

Two days later, the guards entered the house, sweeping each room as they went. They were looking for booby traps, which slowed their progress, but no such traps were found. They only found the bodies. First was Pine's body, bloated and bloody, with the exploded stomach indicative of how he'd died. Next, they found the master bedroom, where Sunday Brunch and her husband lay wrapped in each other's legs, their lips still pressed against each other.

The guard captain called in two of the neighbors to identify the bodies, and had them carted off to be entombed. Per the final instructions left by the letter, all of them were cremated. The mother and son were to be placed in her father's family's mausoleum, but the father's ashes were to be scattered around the building. This wasn't necessary for the guards to do, but the captain ordered them to follow through regardless.

In the months that followed, all talk of the "Silent Graves Killer" came to a halt. It was brought up in hushed whispers from time to time, but never again was there a killing in that manner, nor in a manner that echoed the effects, except in very rare cases. There was another change, however. A large variety of edible mushrooms began growing around the mausoleum, and even up the walls. This was the stallion's final gift to his family.