CMC Watch Bedtime Stories

by Lord Blundergosh

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Human, Other, Mystery, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Suicide / Self Harm, Rarity, Crossover, Sex, Profanity, Gore, Violence, Slice of Life
Length: 151835

The Cutie Mark Crusaders react to the Bedtime Stories YouTube channel.

Rarity was in for a long haul. She only had a couple weeks to complete what was turning out to be her biggest commission of the year so far. And on top of that, she had to babysit Sweetie Belle and her friends for a whole stormy week!
Thankfully, Spike has come to her rescue by handing down to her a magical device Twilight and Sunset created connecting to the so called “World Wide Web” of the human world. This is supposed to be able to keep Sweetie and her friends occupied while she works on her latest project. Apparently, it’s even able to read bedtime stories to them!

This story was inspired by Rated Ponystar’s Student Six Watch Fallout Lore: The Storyteller Series. The story that introduced me to the concept of reaction fics and one that I recommend you read sometime.

If you aren’t familiar with the Bedtime Stories channel on YouTube, I highly recommend you also check them out. Its the perfect channel for this eerie time of year that I’m currently writing this story in.

Aliens. Conspiracies. Cryptids. Ghosts. Strange Deaths. Mysteries. Other Dimensions.
These are all things both you and the CMC will experience as they sit down for some good ol’ Bedtime Stories.

For those concerned about the tags, I want to make it clear that the tags describe events that happened in the real world and that neither the CMC nor any other characters in this story suffer any tragedy. (Except for Twilight when she finds out that Spike gave away her only access to all of humanity’s knowledge.)

Updates

5/22/22: Well, helloooo Feature Box! We did it!
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Published 2021-10-04 22:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-02-03 01:34:34 UTC

Prologue

The streets of Ponyville were dominated by the sounds of thunder, rain and powerful, whistling winds. Had any member of the weather team still been in the area, they would expectantly look down to see empty alleys and lanes deserted by ponies who had retreated into their homes since an hour ago when the storm began… only to be surprised by the sight of three ponies, one mare and two fillies, galloping against the storm to get to their destination.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tailed behind Rarity as their small, powerless bodies failed to put up enough resistance to the gusts of wind pushing them back. It didn’t help that they were also carrying backpacks full of supplies. Looking back at the sight of the two fillies unable to keep up with her or even progress any further than they have, Rarity decided this simply would not do. Both fillies who had been grinding their teeth and clenching their eyes shut as they dug their hooves as far into the mud as they could to gain leverage against the breeze, suddenly found themselves released from their struggle as they were enveloped in blue magic and began floating through the air.

Rarity levitated each filly next to either side of her head as she went into full sprint. Normally she’d be in a rush only because she wanted to make sure things were fine with her sister back in the boutique, but that was becoming a secondary concern now. She had to get these fillies out of this rain as soon as possible. The last thing she wanted was either of the poor things catching a cold; she didn’t want to think about hypothermia coming into play. It wasn’t long before the fashionista became more ensured that Sweetie Belle was safe as she caught the sight of their home far off in the distance, seemingly unscathed. Rarity could at least be thankful that Ponyville wasn’t a large town.

*Sniff

“Scoots, you know what Rarity said.”

Sweetie Belle was at first ecstatic to see her sister come through the door with her two friends in tow. However, that was quickly cut short when she saw her friends’ shivering forms and was almost immediately told by Rarity to start up the fireplace and get them some blankets.

“Honestly Sweetie, we’re feeling fine already. It ain’t much of a bother…”, Apple bloom said before taking a moment to clear her throat.

“Well, duh! That’s cause it’s working now that we started taking care of the problem early. Which is why you two should not screw this up now and finish your soup!”

Sweetie punctuated that last sentence by levitating a spoonful of soup in front both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, pretty much forcing them in their faces. To which they responded by taking hold of said spoons and eating the rest of their meal without any further protest. It was fine soup anyway.

“Besides, you should know as guests it’s not proper to turn down a host’s hospitality.”, Sweetie added with her eyes closed and her head slightly turned up in a way that was probably unconscious.

Scootaloo grew a sly grin as she looked down at her soup and said, “Careful, you’re turning into your sister, Sweetie”. She didn’t even look up as she heard Sweetie Belle blow raspberries in response.

As the three warmed up at the fireplace in their cozy blankets, Rarity had finished cleaning herself off in a nice, warm shower and had taken refuge underneath the covers of her bed. Rather than a bowl of soup, she was accompanied by a hot cup of coffee. What started as sipping turned into her gulping down much more coffee at a time than she had ever done before; Celestia knew she needed it. After groaning like Applejack and Rainbow Dash did during their ill-advised cider chugging competitions, Rarity took a deep breathe, steadied her nerves as best she could and attempted to reflect on the past few days.

Her newest commission should have been the most wondrous news she had gotten in a while. She had been approached by one of Equestria’s greatest playwrights and stage directors, Stage Craft. Had she downgraded her sense of composure even slightly, he and the entire neighborhood would have heard her “squee” herself to death. It only got better when he told her how much he greatly admired her work and wanted her to design a costume for his production of one of her favorite plays, “The Phantom Pony of the Opera”.

However, before Rarity could come down from the high of the excitement, Craft almost immediately threw her a curve ball by revealing that his interpretation of the story is going to take significant artistic liberties with the source material, namely by giving it a dystopian sci-fi twist to it. If that weren’t enough of a surprise, he said that he wanted her to submit her own design for the phantom, instructing her to avoid making the costume dashing in any traditional sense of the word. He also specifically said that he wanted to see if she was capable of making a phantom that was “otherworldly, eerie, and hideous; something that was born of a world that is poisoned”. She was given two weeks to submit a nearly completed completed costume minus the mask, which he wanted her to submit a design sketch of. All in a type of design she might add that she was in no way accustomed to making.

If that weren’t enough, life threw her YET MORE curveballs after she had accepted his offer. Rarity’s parents tasked her with watching Sweetie Belle while they were on vacation. The Apple family had to make a long business trip that Apple Bloom wasn’t allowed to attend. And out of all the blasted things that could happen, Scootaloo’s house was destroyed by a tree that was toppled over in a storm yesterday (thankfully no pony was hurt). And of course not only were Twilight and Rainbow too busy with their Princess and Wonderbolt duties respectively, Pinkie and Fluttershy have sent letters saying that the friendship quest they’re on is probably going to take far longer than usual, days longer.

Even to a mare like Rarity who has dealt with Diamond Dogs, Changelings and even the Lord of Chaos himself, the timing of all this was just far too absurd. Why did Stage Craft give her such a difficult, unfamiliar task as making an entire scary alien costume in only two weeks when he knew that wasn’t her typical sort of work? Just to test her? In fact, was it her or was life itself going out of its way to test her? What if she fails to meet the deadline or come up with a costume that’s just what he’s looking for? Will her reputation be ruined!?! Will her growing boutique business here and in Manehattan crumble!?! What will she do then!?! Is she going to end up as a…a rock farmer!?!

Rarity halted the pacing and hyper ventilating she didn’t realize she was doing and fell backward only to be caught by her most loyal companion, the feinting couch.

“GAH! OW! ow! ow! ow! ow! owwwww…”

Rarity yelped in pain when her head slammed onto something much more solid and tough than the cushion she was expecting. Once finished with the half a minute of groaning and rubbing the back of her head, she finally bothered to look back down to where her pillow was supposed to have been on her couch. What she saw instead was a saddle bag whose contents made it take on a noticeably spherical shape. She opened it to find a buckball-sized crystal ball attached atop a square mount, which took a second for her to recognize.

Two hours ago…

“Wait, Rarity! Before you go…”

Spike had called out to her just as she was a hoof away from the front door. Rarity had come to Twilight’s castle to ask for a book on horror aesthetics and when she found Spike as the only one there to assist her with no sign of Twilight or Starlight anywhere, she was not shy about venting to him about her entire situation in excruciating detail. Luckily for her, Spike was the right one to talk to at this moment.

As she looked back at him he continued, “You said you were also worried about how you were going to watch over the Cutie Mark Crusaders, right?”

“That’s correct, dear.”, Rarity replied. “Normally, they’d be out busying themselves with treats from Sugarcube Corner, helping somepony else find their special talent or um…”

“Doing stuff that would have gotten them arrested if they were adults?”

“I was going to say causing mischief, but that works too.”, Rarity replied. “But with the weather being so dreadful this week, they’ll be cooped up inside and I’m not sure if I have anything that will keep them preoccupied for long!”

“Well, I think you might be in luck!”, Spike said before sprinting to the back of the room.

Rarity raised an eyebrow as she saw Spike run back to her, presenting to her some sort of crystal ball. She only got more perplexed when he pushed a button on the left side of it and from the ball came a projection much like the Cutie Map. Except instead of projecting a map of Equestria, it was showing a mostly white space with a few rectangles in several spots on the screen and in the middle was the word “Google” spelled in colorful letters.

“What is this?”, Rarity asked with squinted eyes pointed at the projection.

“Sunset says it’s called the World Wide Web, buuuut I’m not sure how it has anything to do with spiders.”, Spike replied.

“Sunset? Hmmm, that’s the girl from the human world, correct?”

“Yup. She helped Twilight connect this crystal ball to the web… or Internet I think she called it? And now Twilight uses it for research like all the time. Seriously, you know how hard it’s been trying to tear her away from this thing sometimes?”

“And you’re saying that this thing can keep my sister and her friends busy while I work?”

“Oh for sure!”

Spike put the ball down on the ground next to him and pulled off something attached to the right side of the device by a string; it looked like a… pen?

“You use this thing here to interact with it.”

Spike somehow used the pen to tap the top of the projection (how do you touch a hologram!?!) and that made appear what looked like a typewriter’s assortment of letters.

“And you can type anything here that you want it to show you.”

“Ooo! Anything?”

“Anything you might need to keep them busy? No problem! Here, I’ll even pull up a site that’s got all sorts of entertaining stuff.”, Spike paused.

“What was it called again! I think it was Y-O-U-T-U-B-E. There we are!”, Spike exclaimed as he pulled up the front page of “YouTube”.

“Oh Spikey-Wikey, what would I do without you!”

Spike’s posture visibly stiffened as Rarity leaned in and hugged him. When she pulled back, Rarity was pleased to see him turning his head away to hide his blush while shyly scratching the back of his head and giggling; just what she had gotten used to seeing from him. She briefly wondered if gemstones would even cut it as a reward at this point with how much he’s helped out.

*CRACK-BOOM!

The two of them practically jumped at the sound outside. Rarity had a horrible realization as she heard the pitter patter of rain coming down.

“OH CELESTIA! I’m late to pick up Scootaloo and Apple Bloom!”

She quickly levitated the crystal ball and stuck it in her saddle bag.

“No time to talk, Spike! Thank you so much!”, she yelled as she dashed out the door, in a panic to get the children safely to her home as soon as possible.

“I’m just saying we would’ve gotten here before the weather got this bad if you just decided to forget our schedule book.”, Scootaloo told Apple Bloom in a tone that was growing slightly more irritated the longer their conversation went on.

“Y’all know we have several clients booked! Do ya wanna tell Wind Step that we couldn’t bother ta even try findin’ ways for her ta discover her special talent?”, Apple Bloom retorted with what she would call passion and others would call zeal.

“I mean, you do remember what’s going on outside right? I’m sure they would all understand.”, Sweetie Belle added as she finally chimed into the conversation.

“Alright girls! Follow me!”

The three hadn’t noticed that Rarity was in the corner of the room until she cut their conversation short just now.

“To where?”, Scootaloo asked.

“To Sweetie’s room.”

“Already? But it’s only seven!”, complained Sweetie.

“No buts! I have a very important client and not much time to complete his request. So, I need full concentration for the whole week.”

Rarity followed up that statement by walking the path to Sweetie’s room, expectant when she eventually heard the three follow behind her to keep up the conversation.

“But it’ll get so boring staying up here!”, Sweetie continued to whine as they all made it to her room.

“That’s okay, then. You can spend the time you have now assisting me with my latest project until you’re ready to go to bed.”

The three fillies snapped their heads to face each other, wordlessly communicating their shared dread of having to deal with such a tedious task. Their silence was clearly understood by Rarity as them forfeiting the argument.

“Now don’t worry, you don’t need to go to sleep just yet!”, she said while turning to look at the fillies with a pleasant smile. To which all three exhaled with relief.

“You just need to stay in this room for most of your stay here. Or at least keep out of my workspace unless you need me. Until then, you can have these board games to play with!”

Rarity laid down on the ground in front of them a deck of cards, a checkers board, and a game of Hungry Hungry Hydras.

“Oh! And in case you need help falling asleep…”, Rarity paused and brought up the crystal ball. Recalling as best as she could how Spike did it earlier, she grasped the pen in her magic and used it to type what she was looking for into “YouTube”. Each tap she made against against the screen emitted a sort of tick sound.

“Aha! This really does have everything you need”, Rarity mumbled to herself as she looked up the results for her search. She finally settled it down in front of the three fillies, the orb immediately arresting their attention.

“This device here can read you some bedtime stories if you need help getting to rest. Now, I’m going to get started on my project. You three enjoy yourselves!”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders watched Rarity hurriedly trot out the room and close the door behind her before turning their attention back to the image the crystal ball was projecting. What they saw was a list of titles with accompanying images describing predictably inoffensive and bright children’s stories. However, one stuck out among the rest.

Rather than any specific title, it was simply called Bedtime Stories, suggesting that it held a collection of stories within it rather than one. But what was more interesting was the accompanying image of what seemed to be an artist’s rendition of a skull. A skull of a creature that they couldn’t recognize…

Author's Note

A skull? So spooky and ominous…
Hope this prologue has hooked onto your attention!
As a first timer when it comes to fimfiction, I’m open to any helpful critique. Emphasis on helpful. Or constructive if you prefer.

Thanks for reading!

Edit: Slightly changed what the terms for Rarity’s were.

The Legend of the Mothman

“Checkmate!”

“Oh this is such horse apples!”

Scootaloo was fuming at Apple Bloom’s now three game winning streak of checkers. All three girls had started the night by playing some Hungry Hungry Hydras until one of the Hydra heads jammed. They then played Go Fish for as long as they could before it’s entertainment value ran dry. Now here they were, 10:00 at night, and Sweetie Belle had long grown tired of the board games, leaving the other two to have at it.

As Sweetie gradually became less engaged with her friend’s checkers war of attrition, her attention once again fell onto the crystal orb sitting on the other side of the room next to her bed. She had been occasionally stealing glances at the thing for the past several hours. While she certainly doesn’t need something to read her any bedtime stories, this image projecting crystal ball was unlike anything she’d seen before. She couldn’t help but wonder how the orb worked and what that weird little skull logo on the screen had in store for her.

As Apple Bloom was resetting her side of the board for the next game, she noticed to her left an empty space in place of where Sweetie Belle had been laying flat on her belly watching her and Scootaloo play. Apple Bloom’s ears then flicked to the right where a distinct tick stood out among the sounds of shifting checkers pieces and the downpour of rain from outside. Turning her head, she saw Sweetie Belle sitting in front of the crystal ball, using the pen to tap on and manipulate the projected screen.

“Ya checkin’ out that storytime machine yer sister gave us?”

“Seriously, no offense but how old does Rarity think we are? I dunno about you guys, but it’s been awhile since I needed an adult to read me a story before I sleep.”, Scootaloo added.

Giving Scootaloo the slyest side-eye imaginable, Apple Bloom quipped, “Ah guess by awhile ya mean two weeks ago?”.

Her back becoming stiff and wings flaring up slightly, Scootaloo’s response seemed to come a little too quickly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”, she said before quickly averting eye contact.

“Well, Rainbow Dash sure does!”, Apple Bloom replied in a slight singsongy voice.

“You’re lying! She wouldn’t admit-“, Scootaloo began before covering her mouth with both hooves after realizing what she had confessed.

Before Apple Bloom could tease further, both filly’s ears clamped down to their heads when they suddenly heard a ground shaking boom from outside and their eyes were also practically forced shut for a second as a blinding light filled the room. The storm which had long fallen into the background of their sleepover had now hijacked it momentarily. All girls scurried to the window to confirm just how dangerously close the house got to being struck by lightning. All except one.

Although she had been equally jolted in surprise from the thunder, Sweetie quickly turned back to the orb she had in front of her and did not let herself get bothered by the increasingly eerie and powerful winds picking up speed outside. She had figured out how to use the pen to scroll through this collection of “Bedtime Stories”. It seemed the skull logo was very apt indeed. Each listed title she laid eyes on contained mentions of curses, deaths, ghosts and disappearances of all sorts. What also fed her morbid fascination was how each one was accompanied by detailed black and white illustrations of so many different monsters, disasters, shadowy figures and, most shocking of all, the occasional corpse.

As she scrolled near the bottom of the story list, Sweetie quickly passed a certain image that made her curiously scroll back up to see more clearly. She was met with the image of a winged creature flapping it’s way across a night sky, or at least what seemed to be a night sky given that the drawing was black and white like the others. The beast itself was entirely black in color with the exception being it’s red, piercing orbs that it had for eyes. Despite all the bizarre creatures she knows of that live in Equestria, something about this thing was incredibly otherworldly to her. Satisfied with her study of the picture, she finally decided to read the title.

“The Legend of the Mothman.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had turned away from the window upon hearing their friend’s out of nowhere statement.

“Oh sorry! That was just one of the story titles; just kinda… forgot you were here when I read that out loud.”, Sweetie apologized as she sheepishly forced a smile and rubbed the back of her head.

“What’s a Mothman?”, asked Apple Bloom.

“Wellll… apparently it’s this.”

Sweetie Belle used the pen held in her magic to point at the image of the titular monster. Upon seeing the image, the two gave off a look that, if Sweetie had to guess, signified the same sort of morbid fascination she felt earlier.

“So, I know we all sort of quietly agreed that we didn’t think being read kids stories would be a good time…”, Sweetie Belle paused and then began looking back forth between her friends conspiratorially with narrowed eyes and a grin.

“But I’ve been looking these stories over, and it looks like Rarity accidentally gave us a collection of scary stories.”

“How scary?”, Scootaloo asked.

“Probably the kind of scary that adults would say we aren’t grown up enough for, but we totally are!”

Sweetie looked on as her two friends visibly perked up at what she said. Upon seeing this she realized was her chance to pop the question.

“So, what do you say? You girls in or what?”

Apple Bloom took a few moments of contemplation before finally shrugging her shoulders and stating, “Aw sure, why the hay not?”

“Oh! No. You. Don’t!”

Scootaloo inserted herself between the two, putting herself nose to nose with Apple Bloom.

“You’re just worried that this time I might beat you! Well guess what? We’re not done until I get that checkmate, Apple Bloom!”

Apple Bloom, after backing up a few inches, put on a fake frown of disappointment, then looked to Sweetie Belle and said, “Well, sorry Sweetie. Ah guess we can’t watch this, cuz Scootaloo’s still a big ch-“.

Before she could finish, Apple Bloom was given her first ever taste of chicken when Scootaloo’s hoof was used to plug her mouth.

“Don’t finish that sentence.”, Scootaloo deadpanned in a thinly veiled attempt to mask her irritation. She evidently was getting tired of getting bested by the farm filly tonight and definitely did not want that old joke among her friend group being brought back.

“*sigh… look, I’ll take a break and look at one of these creepshow stories with you guys. But this doesn’t mean we’re done yet, Apple Bloom!”, Scootaloo glared while giving her final declaration.

Apple Bloom snuck a glance at Sweetie Belle and took the opportunity to say, “You’re Welcome”, in the form of a little covert wink to which Sweetie couldn’t help but giggle quietly in response.

Upon everyone getting into seating positions, Sweetie finally used the pen to tap onto the story of their choice.

The girls were almost taken aback when a voice was suddenly emitted from the device, though they all quickly reasoned in their own head that Rarity did say it was supposed to read them stories, so of course it came with a narrating voice. As the disembodied voice spoke about how long ago the residents of a small town in a place called “West Virginia” were stalked by a mysterious creature with glowing red eyes, the screen was panning up over the image of the creature matching the description standing with its wings folded next to what could best be described by the girls as a futuristic-looking carriage. Except who ever was supposed to pull it wasn’t present. The way the creature fixed its hypnotic gaze directly towards the viewer somehow made all three girls feel like they were being targeted by it for reasons they didn’t want to find out, even if it was clearly just an illustration. The voice then proceeded to ask if the creature was real or imaginary and if recent photos prove that it’s returned?

“Well, why are you asking us Mister?”, Sweetie Belle asked the narrator.

“Sweetie, ah think he’s bein’ rhetorical.”, Apple Bloom said.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure the orb can’t even hear you.”, Scootaloo added flatly.

“Dang it! I was gonna also ask where West Ver-jin-ea was.”

This conversation took place without either party looking at each other directly. Their eyes instead were trained on the collage of black & white images and words on screen, accompanied by music consisting of a repeated series of piano keynotes and percussion beats that alternated between light and rapid to more deliberate and loud. The girls sat in place, perplexed by how the contents of every image shown on screen seemed so foreign; not just foreign to them as Equestrians but foreign compared to anything known to them on their world. They almost missed the white text partnered with each bizarre drawing: Aliens, Conspiracies, Cryptids(?), Strange Deaths, Ghosts, Mysteries, Other Dimensions.

As the music was hitting its peak, the title Bedtime Stories with that now emblematic skull logo stuck between each word scrolled into frame from the left side of the screen. As the title screen faded to black, the three fillies started hearing the distant rabid barks of dogs and they all turned their head slightly to face the window as they all thought it was outside. They didn’t realize that the crystal ball was the one emitting these noises until it startled all of them by playing one of the most monstrous, high-pitched shrieks they ever heard. While Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle both froze in place with wide-eyed surprise, Scootaloo’s form visibly shrank down and she could also feel the fur on several parts of her body stand up for a moment.

Sweetie turned to her friends and shakily said, “Does anypony else feel like that sound is the stuff that the nightmares of Everfree forest are made of?”

“Yup.”, Apple Bloom replied matter-of-factly.

The girls were then shown the image of a nice-looking town with two bridges crossing over a river which cut the entire place in two and was surrounded by lush, green countryside; a city that the narrator dubbed “Point Pleasant”. According to him, despite being such a relatively small town it was wrapped in history and urban legend that was larger than life. It had a character that was as quaint and pleasant as its name suggested.

“This place sort of sounds like Ponyville, doesn’t it?”, Sweetie Belle remarked.

“Eh. I’m pretty sure a lot of towns are like that.”

Almost as if it was trying to disprove Scootaloo’s statement, the narrator remarked that it’s unassuming nature disguises the fact it was once the site of one of the scariest incidents of the last half century.

“Okay, I guess I can kinda see a resemblance.”

“Funny y’all should mention that, cuz Babs has told meh that Ponyville has started gettin’ a real dangerous reputation ta ponies all over Equestria.”

During the “1960s”, the residents of Point Pleasant began reporting having encounters on the outskirts of town with a monster so terrifying that in some cases the victims suffered years of psychological trauma afterwards. The first ones to say they saw the creature were five gravediggers at a local cemetery near “Clendenin” who said they saw what at first looked like a “human being” fly out of some trees nearby and after a few minutes swoop right over their heads and off into the night.

“What’s a human being?”, Scootaloo asked without expecting anypony to answer.

“Human…why do I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before?”

While Sweetie Belle pondered this, the narrator told about the second sighting two nights later. Someone bearing the strange name, Newell Partridge, was sitting in his home watching “television”(?) when he saw two red orbs floating over a field in his backyard that upon closer inspection turned out to be the eyes of a tall, dark figure standing in a tree a hundred meters away. It then flew off and let out a similar blood-curdling scream to the one from the start of the story, this time only mildly creeping out the whole trio watching.

Apple Bloom began to feel uneasy looking at the silhouette of Partridge’s dog charging after the beast in the trees, apparently having never been seen again after that. She couldn’t help but picture Winona in that unlucky dog’s place. She nervously hoped it turned out okay. Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed when she was shown what looked like the same dog lying limp on the side of a road with the monster standing over it.

“Poor thing.”, she whispered.

The next night, two extremely panicked and distressed couples burst into the Sheriff’s office to report the terrifying encounter they just had. On their way back from a double date, they were making their way around Point Pleasant’s “TNT Area” when they spotted the same monster on the side of the road. Even when it wasn’t looking directly at them, sheer menacing aura that this creature gave off still managed to make all three girls uneasy.

”Why am I getting the feeling we’re gonna be shown why this place is called the TNT Area in the worst way possible?”, Scootaloo anxiously mused to herself.

They had described the creature as looking “like a man” but taller, grey all over, and with wings folded behind it’s back.

“Seriously, what does that mean? First Moth-Man, then Hoo-Man. What’s a man?”

Sweetie pondered on Apple Bloom’s inquiry. She felt like the answer was on the tip of her tongue, but it just wasn’t coming to her at the moment.

The two couples said they saw the body of a dog laying out in front of the creature. Apple Bloom frowned at the narrator’s insistence on pointing out how it was later assumed to be Partridge’s missing dog.

”Gee, thanks Mister. Ah really wanted THAT spelled out for meh.”, she thought bitterly.

As they drove past it, the monster shot up into the air and flew after the “car”.

“Did they forget to add the ‘t’ at the end of cart?”, Sweetie wondered aloud.

The person driving the vehicle sped it up to 100 miles per hour, but the creature still kept up.

“Geez, I thought only Rainbow Dash reached those sorta speeds THAT quickly. How did it get so fast?”

“Forget about how fast that thing is! How are they in a vehicle that can reach 100 miles per hour on land? They don’t look like they’re in a train!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed in response to Scootaloo.

“Y’all are both missin’ the real question here! What is THAT!?!”

As the orb relayed how the driver’s wife said that the monster chasing after them had glowing red eyes, emitted that same terrifying screech from earlier and eventually stopped chasing them and flew back to the TNT Area as they made it back to town, Apple Bloom pointed to the creature on screen. Not the one flying through the air, but the one that seemed to have its face pressed against the glass staring at the flying beast. Drawn in gray, this thing’s silhouette revealed a head that was too narrow and a bit too long vertically to be a pony’s. With two lanky arms, it pressed both of its hands ending in five hay-sausage-like fingers against the glass. The only thing that was remotely pony-like about this figure was its shoulder-length mane.

“Is that supposed to be the wife?”, Scootaloo asked while squinting her eyes and tilting her head as if that would help her make out its features.

Just then, the screen had cut to what was supposed to be both couples sitting at a table for a press conference with what looked like a mustachioed police officer seated in the middle. At this event, all four witnesses publicly gave their accounts of the encounter and a wildlife expert gave his opinions on what they had actually saw. With the newspapers picking on the story reports of encounters spread through the town like wildfire. Seeing all those lined up at the table made something click in Sweetie Belle’s head.

“I remember now! THESE are humans!”, she exclaimed upon receiving her rush of clarity.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned to face their friend, their confusion written on their faces as clear as day.

“Those are what those “hooman” thingies the orb was talking about?”, Scootaloo asked.

“Yeah. They’re these primate-looking aliens from an alternate universe.”

“Hol’up. How come y’all have heard of ‘em and we haven’t till now?”

Sweetie’s answer was given in a tone far more nonchalant than one would expect considering it’s contents.

“Oh that? I once found a picture of seven humans in Twilight’s desk and I asked her what it was. She told me that she sometimes visits the world where these humans live by going through a mirror. Oh, and I guess I should mention that the mirror turns you into a human when you cross over into their world and that six of the seven girls in the photo were human versions of herself, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash and their friends. We apparently have human counterparts in that world too.”

Upon ending that entire rapid exposition, Sweetie somehow remained amazingly oblivious to her friends’ expressions of… well it’s hard to say what exactly. Other than initial shock, it could be said they probably didn’t know what to feel.

“I think that’s where my sister got this crystal ball thing.”, she added while gesturing to the object in question.

At a loss, Apple Bloom simply remarked with a simple, “Ya don’t say.”

Deciding she wanted to get her mind off of that existential crisis inducing bombshell, Scootaloo turned her attention back to the story. The narrator was explaining that despite how the exposure this encounter received invited many attention seekers fabricating encounters with the mysterious creature, this didn’t necessarily mean that there were no other legitimate reports since then. One incident that occurred on the day that the papers on the so-called Mothman were still being sent to people’s mailboxes involved a couple named Mr. and Mrs. Walmsley and a Marcella Bennett; Scootaloo gulped upon hearing that Bennett had her baby daughter with her.

When they had pulled up to the Thomas family home on the outskirts of town, their car (that same futuristic carriage from earlier, all three girls realized) seemed to disturb something. They were shocked to see as they were coming out of their vehicle a large grey figure with horrific glowing red eyes rising from the ground nearby. The sight of this petrified Marcella Bennett so much that she had momentarily forgotten about the baby in her arms and had dropped her to the ground.

“What are you doing, lady!?! Get her off the ground!”, Scootaloo practically screeched that last part through clenched teeth.

The other two girls sitting with Scootaloo would not bother telling her to calm down, especially since they too felt just as much as panicked concern for that baby’s safety as she did. They all thankfully got to release the breath they had all been holding once Marcella quickly picked up her child and dashed to the house. Thankfully one of the Thomas children had let her in just in time. It didn’t end there, however. The monster then terrorized every one in the house all night by peering in through the window.

The thought of spotting a face like that peering into her bedroom window caused Scootaloo’s body to rattle all over involuntarily. The girls might have been able to find relief in the fact that the Mothman disappeared by the time the police showed up, but unfortunately that wasn’t the last time Marcella would see it. In that context, the illustration on screen of Bennett getting away from Mothman, baby in her arms, on her first fateful night encountering the monster almost felt like a exemplification of false hope.

Living near Point Pleasant’s TNT Area, she claimed that on numerous occasions she saw the creature around her property and heard it’s blood-curdling scream in the middle of the night.

“*shudders… They really like playing any sounds that thing makes. It’s giving me the willies.”, Scootaloo griped internally at the now lower-pitched and distant, breathy hiss the orb had just played.

Marcella Bennett would unfortunately suffer from nightmares and other mental health issues for many years after the ordeal. The TNT Area would later become heavily associated with the Mothman.

“Yeah, ah was startin’ ta wonder why this thing likes this TNT Area so much.”, said Apple Bloom, expressing what every pony else was thinking.

This “TNT Area” is supposed to be a large tract of land, dotted with small concrete “igloos”, used during “World War II” to store ammunition and is adjacent to the 2,500 acre McClintic Wildlife Station. The whole landscape is also covered in dense forest and steep hills and is riddled with tunnels. A seemingly perfect hiding place for such a mysterious being. Most of the sightings having occurred in the area supports the idea that it acted as Mothman’s home. But the girls were less concerned about that and more caught up with the major conflict the narrator so casually mentioned.

“Hol’ up. What War Two!?!”, Apple Bloom exclaimed.

“Does that mean their entire world had a war with itself or go to war with another world?”, Sweetie Belle pondered.

“And somehow did either of that twice???”, Scootaloo added as the last touch to their big question.

The idea of war seemed so ancient to them from their own cultural perspective as Equestrians, so the idea of a conflict that grand in scale was almost incomprehensible when they tried thinking about it. Unfortunately for them, their questions would not be answered. The narrator decided instead to continue on, talking about how the number of reported Mothman sightings peaked at the end of 1966 and in 1967 until November of that latter year when disaster struck. The town’s “Silver Bridge” running over the Ohio River had collapsed, allowing tons of vehicles and people to be plunged into the icy depths below; 46 people had died that night. It was likely for the girls’ best that they were only seeing this rendered in drawing. In spite of all the insanity they’ve experienced together, it still might be a bit too harrowing at their to actually see so many people falling to their deaths.

“Wait, I thought this was about Mothman. What does this have to do with him?”

Almost as if on cue, the narrator practically answered Sweetie Belle’s by explaining how reports of Mothman sightings stopped immediately after the disaster. This led many to draw a connection between the monster’s appearances and the bridge’s collapse. It’s often speculated that the Mothman was actually a harbinger of death.

“So, what are they saying? That it made the bridge collapse?”, Scootaloo turned her head to Sweetie Belle.

“Sort of. It’s more like that it was showing up to warn or announce that this was going to happen. That’s what they mean when they say ‘Harbinger of Death’.”

“Ah wonder if it’s ever done this anywhere else?”

Scootaloo would have been asking herself the same thing as Apple Bloom if she didn’t have an even more concerning question on her mind.

“Could it somehow come here?”, she wondered quietly but dare not speak aloud.

While this conversation had taken place, the narrator had begun pontificating on what the Mothman actually was and whether or not there was even any truth to these sightings at all. Apparently, there are many different ideas and interpretations of the whole affair. The most widely held belief among skeptics is that what all the witnesses saw was a very large bird. Most likely the Sandhill Crane, which can sometimes grow up to 6 feet tall. Not only that, but this bird also has shocks of bright red feathers around its eyes.

“Do either of you think we’ve just found the culprit?”, Scootaloo said without turning to face her friends, still captivated by the menacing glare the flying beast was giving from the other side of the screen.

“Hmm… ah think so.”, Apple Bloom declared.

“Really? But didn’t they all say that this thing was like 7 hoo-… er feet tall? That bird can only get up to 6 feet.”, Sweetie Belle countered.

The witnesses and believers were also quick to point this out.

“Ha! You see?”

“That don’t mean nothin’. Eyes play tricks on us all the time! They mighta misjudged the height.”

Another issue people take with this explanation with this explanation is that the Mothman’s always glowed red. While some birds such as owls apparently have eyes that shine red when light is pointed in their direction, most other birds have no such eyes. Plus, this creature’s eyes glowed red even when no light source was pointed on it.

“Hold on, that’s not right. There’s tons of monsters out in the Everfree with eyes that always glow.”

Scootaloo quickly moved to shoot down Sweetie Belle’s point, “Well, maybe that’s just not how it works there in… West Virginia. Their animals must not have glowy eyes.”

The high-pitched scream it emitted was also said by witnesses to sound unlike any bird they’ve ever heard and much more human-like. Mr. Scarberry, the driver from the third sighting, has also called into question whether there is such thing as any bird capable of flying over 100 miles per hour.

“Okay, ah guess they got me on the speed thing. But I dunno ‘bout that whole point with the screech. Ah’ve heard Twilight’s pet make some real freaky noises.”

“Owlowicious?”, Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. “But he always seems so mellow. The only sound I’ve ever heard from him is hoo.”

“You know, I feel we keep forgetting how that poker face belongs to a natural killing machine.”

“Exactly!”, Apple Bloom concurred with Scootaloo’s statement. “Like, one time ah was walkin’ to Twilight’s ol’ library ta return a book. Ah was a few more steps away from the door when a severed rat’s head dropped right in front of mah hooves.”

The other two audibly gagged at that last detail.

“Ah then look up n’ see Owlowicious starin’ back down at me with the rat’s tail stickin’ out it’s beak like nothin’s the matter!”

Wanting this conversation to die out, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle didn’t raise any more questions. Luckily for them, they were all still looking at the screen while they had been talking, so they heard narrator bring up the last point about how unlikely it was for so many witnesses to mistake a bird for a monster. Of course, he also made sure to mention that this was on the assumption that many of the eye-witnesses are to be believed. The fact that reported sightings dramatically increased after the Scarberry and Mallette accounts were published in the papers is certainly grounds to believe that much of them were fabricated. Supposedly, even the Scarberry/Mallette sighting has changed from the way it was told to the police and how it was later told in the press, with some sources saying that the creature did not actually fly after the car but shuffled after them for a short distance.

“It’s soundin’ more n’ more like this thing was overblown.”, Apple Bloom said with Scootaloo nodding along with every word.

Some doubters have also pointed to the significant increase in tourism to Point Pleasant after those first initial sightings were reported as evidence that the entire episode was a cleverly planned hoax for that exact purpose.

“Ah wouldn’t go as far as to say that!”, Apple Bloom said. “Would anypony really do somethin’ that elaborate just to get tourists?”

“Plus, aren’t there less complicated ways of doing that?”, Sweetie Belle added.

“But what about that time we were writing for our school paper? We betrayed so many ponies’ trust just for a juicy story, even when it clearly wasn’t getting us our cutie marks. Would it be that weird if we made up a story about a monster just to get reader’s attention?”

“Hmph. My point still stands, Scoots.”, Sweetie said with a pout, crossing her forelegs in front of her chest.

It was to also be noted by the narrator that the main reason why the story captivated so many people was because of the first four sightings. Despite taking place over as many days and many miles apart from one other or no papers printing out any stories about such a beast prior to these first four sightings or none of the witnesses knowing each other, those first four were somehow still so startlingly similar. Not mention the fact that the Sheriff vouched for the Scarberry and Mallette couples, saying he knew them for most of their lives and that they looked genuinely shaken that night they reported their encounter. Assuming that there was indeed an unknown cryptid stalking the countryside of Point Pleasant, what was it doing there and where did it come from?

“What is a cryptid anyway?”, Scootaloo couldn’t help but ask.

“Maybe it just means monster?”, Apple Bloom speculated.

According to one fringe theory, the Mothman is a supernatural omen of impending doom. There actually have been reports of a similar creature showing up in different parts of the world such as the “flying humanoids” of South and Central America. In many of the places where it’s shown up, tragedy has soon followed. Upon hearing this, Apple Bloom felt her question from earlier satisfactorily answered, while Scootaloo just gulped.

The most popular theory among believers however, is that Mothman is extra-terrestrial in origin. Some time before the first Mothman sighting, a sewing machine salesman named Woodrow Derenberger, driving along a road not far from the Point Pleasant area, encountered a UFO that stopped his car dead in its tracks. A being sporting an inhumanly wide grin then exited strange craft and started communicating with Derenberger telepathically. It asked him about the strange glow on the horizon, apparently not realizing that it was the lights of a distant town.

*Snicker, Scootaloo cracked the first smile she’s had since the story started. “What a dumbass!”

“Yeah, how does a super-advanced alien not recognize something like that?”, Sweetie Belle concurred.

“Pretty freaky how he can speak through his mind, though.”, Apple Bloom added.

According to Derenberger, this individual referred to himself as Indrid Cold. While at the time this name meant nothing, it later gained greater notoriety as more and more alien abductees have claimed to have met an Indrid Cold, otherwise known as the Grinning Man. Sweetie Belle grimaced when the screen had panned up enough to reveal the black-eyes and nasty grin on Cold’s face as he poked his head through Derenberger’s open window.

“This guy looks creepier than Mothman does!”

After asking Derenberger many questions about the people and surrounding areas, Cold thanked him and then left in his strange craft. Less than two weeks later, the first Mothman sightings began to surface, and over time links between the two entities have invariably been made. Not only that but many UFOs and strange lights had been seen around the area at the time encounters with the Mothman were going on. Some residents had even reported paranormal activity in their homes which had gradually abated after the Mothman sightings had ceased. Even the famed “Men in Black” had shown up to the town on a few occasions.

“This keeps casually name droppin’ so much stuff. Ah wonder if ah’ll even be able ta keep up with it.”

“I’m pretty sure that other stuff probably gets their own stories.”, Sweetie Belle assured Apple Bloom.

Whoever or whatever the Mothman was, the narrator concluded, there was definitely something strange going on in that small city on the banks of the Ohio River during the late 1960s. Whether people were genuinely seeing an unidentified cryptid or it was all just a figment of their imagination, one must ask themselves which is more bizarre; the existence of a species yet to be discovered - of earthly origin or otherwise - or the lengths some people will go to in order to save their town. To close the story, the narrator presented a photo taken near Point Pleasant almost 30 years to the day the original sighting.

“Woah.”

“Wow.”

“Ooo.”

Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle gave their respective interjections. It was one thing to look at illustrations of this monster as they had been since watching the story, but seeing a potential photograph of this beast made it all feel so much more tangible. While the narrator raised the possibility that this was just a bird of prey (an owl by the looks of it) clutching a snake in its talons, he still insisted that the question should be asked: Could the Mothman have finally returned to Point Pleasant after all this time?

As the screen began fading to black, the orb played Mothman’s terrifying screech one last time, except now it hit differently. What had merely been a really scary sound at the start, had become something much more foreboding and ominous, threatening even. It sounded as if the creature itself was sending a warning to whoever was watching; that wherever they were, it was coming to bring the news of their terrible fate.

Scootaloo once again felt the fur on the back of her neck stand up.

“Ah personally think that picture was just an owl carryin’ a snake.”, Apple Bloom snapping Scootaloo out of her semi-trance.

“Sooo, what did you girls think? I thought it was pretty spooky.”, Sweetie Belle asked with a surprising amount of pep in her voice.

“Y-yeah it was pretty neat, actually.”, Scootaloo stated in a tone indicating her attempt shake off her now wired nerves.

“Ah really like how it also offers rational explanations instead of just telling as a scary story. It feels more grown up for some reas-“.

*CRACK-BOOM

Before Apple Bloom could finish her sentence, the storm once again decided to remind the trio of its presence. Scootaloo trotted up to the window, looking out at the relentless downpour of rain, violent winds that stripped trees entirely of their leaves, and the bright flashes of lightning that seemed to appear over every corner of Ponyville.

“Y’all right, Scoots?”

“Yeah. I’m just hoping my aunts are okay… that shack they’re staying in didn’t look so sturdy from what I saw of it.”

Apple Bloom then walked up and placed a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder.

“Ah’m sure they’re okay. But if y’all are so worried, then ah guess we can stop by n’ check on ‘em when the weather’s clear enough if it’ll make ya feel better.”

It took a second for Scootaloo to respond before saying, “Sure. I guess that will.”

“Now come on, let’s see if y’all could deliver on that promise that you’d kick my flank at checkers.”

Scootaloo snapped her around. The look on her face now free of the dread present in her voice just a second ago.

“You’re on!”

Author's Note

Well, looks like there won’t be anymore Bedtime Stories. But don’t worry, the girls are in for some more thrilling episodes the next day!

As always, I’m open for any feedback but I specifically would like to hear your thoughts on how I characterize the CMC. Are there any ways in which their characters seem off so far?

Hope you’re enjoying what I have so far!

Edit: Looking back, this is definitely one of, if not my weakest chapter. You can probably tell that I hadn’t quite nailed their characterization down entirely. So not a lot of personality shines through in they we react to the video. Though, I want to assure any new readers coming in that it actually gets better from here; so bear with this for now! In the meantime, have a good read!

Who Are The Men In Black?

If Scootaloo were to look out any of her home’s windows, she might have felt uneasy. The pegasai weather team was cooking up something truly nasty; a storm with only the most potent ingredients. A combination of an endless stream of enormous water droplets and near typhoon-level winds created what must have felt like less of a sprinkling shower and more like a hose blast, to put it mildly. And of course, there was the thunderous lightning. Forming like cracks across a glass sky, they both lit up and shook the entire town at once.

But the only window that Scootaloo was looking through was the one giving her a view to the interior of the oven. Inside she could see it baking something with only the sweetest ingredients: Auntie Lofty’s world-class cookies. She squinted her eyes, anxious just to get a clearer view of the goodies. Her excitement would have been apparent to anypony who found themselves on the receiving end of her restless swishing tail.

Lofty was unfortunate enough to currently be at the mercy of that psycho furry whip. Even though her hind leg was being assaulted, Lofty didn’t so much as glance to the filly next to her. Instead she stuck to finishing up the dishes in the sink in front of her, letting the filly’s tail swat away at her.

It wasn’t until she got to the last dish that she finally said to Scootaloo while still not looking at her, “You know you’re a bit old to be sitting in front of the oven waiting for the cookies to finish, right?”

“Says who?”

“You could have just played a board game with Holiday or something to pass the time.”

“Trust me, Auntie. Your cookies are worth the wait!”

Almost immediately after she said that, Scootaloo heard a sound that caused one ear stand straight up and the other to spasm involuntarily. The best way she could describe it was a distant, low-pitched hiss that was very different from the wails and moans that the wind was producing. Much like those winds however, the sound clearly came from outside. She trotted away from the oven went up to peer out the window.

Her eyes scanned the back yard in search for… well Scootaloo wasn’t really watch she was supposed to look for. All she knew was that whatever that was, it didn’t sound like any creature she’s heard before and that’s a lot more creatures than the average filly her age normally encounters. Just when she was about to give up, her eyes finally locked onto something off in the distance. In the trees towering from the other side of the fence was the eerie, mesmerizing glow of two bright red orbs.

Scootaloo was having trouble believing her eyes, but that didn’t change the fact that after several blinks those circles hadn’t vanished from her sight. It wasn’t flashes of lightning illuminated for a split second that she could vaguely make out some sort of shape surrounding those circles, a silhouette more accurately; it was then that she put together that she was actually locking eyes with a being unknown to her. Scootaloo tried discern more details about the beast’s appearance, but not only was it too dark out, her gaze also kept being drawn back to those two hypnotic crimson eyes. She wasn’t sure why she still hadn’t screamed or even said anything. She was… paralyzed? Well, not by fear. Not the specific kind of fear that comes from being hunted.

For this thing to be able to instill that sort of fear, she would need to detect malice from it. Even though the vibes it gave off were far from good, the way it stared at her didn’t make her feel like it was out to get her. Rather, it was the type of gaze one would expect from an outside observer that was personally disconnected to whatever it was witnessing. It somehow didn’t even feel like it was like was looking at her so much as through her. At least, that’s how she could best describe the glare it was giving.

*Ding

Scootaloo’s train of thought was interrupted by the cooking timer going off. She turned around to see her Aunt, potholder in mouth, opening the oven and lifting out the tray of cookies. She gently slammed them on top of the stove.

“Alright, we’re going to let these cool off for a-“

*CRACK-BOOM

The entire house shook briefly, while the lights flickered for several seconds until finally going out. Both Lofty and Scootaloo began to rub their own eyes after the eye strain of going from a room that was brightly lit to total darkness. Lofty quickly gathered herself and went off to search for the lantern. Hopefully she can remember where she kept the darn thing.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back!”, she told Scootaloo.

Scootaloo watched her Aunt slowly walk out of the room with one hoof out to feel her way around the house. Once she was gone, Scootaloo dared to turn her head back around. Out the window she saw her backyard, her fence and the trees sprouting out from behind it.

“Where did it go?”

*CRASH

The house once again shook, this time hard enough to lift Scootaloo off her hooves. As she raised her head back up, the filly once again detected the sounds of drizzling rain and the howling winds, but somehow it didn’t seem to be coming from outside anymore. Whatever had just shaken the house was definitely not a lightning strike this time. She pulled herself from the ground and hurriedly yet carefully began trotting her way out of the kitchen and into the dark maze that the rest of her house had become. As she made it past the dining room she began to feel a sort of draft running through the house that certainly wasn’t there earlier. But that wasn’t thing she felt. The violent crash had knocked seemingly every household appliance, utensil and knick knack onto the floor and she kept bumping her hooves against as many of them as possible.

“WaaAAA-“

Scootaloo cried out in surprise as one of the misplaced objects on the ground made her slip. Just before she could fall face first onto the floor, she caught herself on something on another body. She looked up to see her Aunt Lofty, with the lower half of her face illuminated by the little lantern in her mouth. Despite how the rest of her face above the muzzle was still shrouded, the look of panic in Lofty’s eyes could still be seen.

“Hab u sheen Hullindey?”, she asked the best she could with the lantern still clamped between her teeth.

Scootaloo didn’t answer but began looking around the room for any sign of her other aunt. Without hesitation, Lofty turned and galloped to and up the stairs. Scootaloo followed the glow of her Aunt’s lantern up the steps. She couldn’t help but notice that the further she got up the steps, the more intense the breeze invading her house became. Even though she had already realized what that meant, she still wasn’t looking forward to seeing it confirmed. When they reached the door to the bedroom Lofty took the lantern out of her mouth to call out for her wife as she entered in.

“Holiday, do you know what ju-RYAAAAAH!!!”

The mare shrieked at the sight before her. The first thing to notice were the branches of leaves and shrubbery that took most of the room. All of it led to a tree trunk that had invaded the room via a gargantuan hole in the wall and ceiling. No doubt this was the earth shaking crash from a minute ago, with the tree tipping over and colliding with the house. However, that was nothing in comparison to what really made Lofty scream. Lying on the bed, crushed under the weight of the collapsed tree was none other than Aunt Holiday.

Scootaloo was now uncontrollably hyperventilating. Everything seemed to fade away around her. The room, the hole, the storm outside and even Lofty vanished into an all consuming void of blackness. Nothing existed except her and Holiday, who was staring straight into her eyes. Her poor aunt looked like she was trying to say something though her blood trickled mouth, crying out for help probably. But all that came out were incomprehensible vocalizations that could almost be called gasps, except no air was actually coming in.

As the desperation in Holiday’s eyes gradually gave way to emptiness, an ear splitting monstrous shriek in the distance grew and grew until it consumed all of Scootaloo’s senses.

“Wake up, Scoots. Wake up!”

Sweetie Belle did her best to jostle Scootaloo out of the stirring “restless” rest that she was in.

Scootaloo finally jolted from her sleep, waking up with a sharp gasp. She immediately rose up from her sleeping bag, her eyes flicking all over the place to scan her surroundings. Her eyes finally landed on her friend sitting next to her. Sweetie Belle may not have had insight into what exactly Scootaloo’s dream was. But it must been quite something if her friend’s mixed expression of panic and bewilderment was anything to go by.

“Um… are you alright?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“…yeah. I’m good.”

“Okay. Well, Rarity’s got breakfast for us downstairs. Come on.”

~

“So, that’s the plan we’ve drafted for Wind Sprint. Y’all wanna make any final changes?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“Nah. Sounds fine to me.”

“Okay, Sweetie. What do ya think, Scootaloo?”

The pegasus filly in question did not respond. Instead, she continued to stay at the window where she stared out at the raging storm.

“Scoots!”

Scootaloo finally snapped out of her trance, then turned her attention back to her fellow Crusaders and said, “Uh… sure. No objections from me.”

The other two fillies couldn’t help but project looks of concern as they looked upon their friend. All too aware of the incident that destroyed Scootaloo’s house and left her two aunts unscathed, but temporarily homeless. Until that massive hole was fixed, Lofty and Holiday were stuck staying in a rickety shack with questionable structural integrity. The worst possible situation to be in during this stormy season. It’s been clear to them since last night that Scootaloo’s had that on her mind nonstop. However, they also knew that there wasn’t much they could do about it until the weather was clear enough for them to go out. Unfortunately, it looked it still wasn’t going to let up anytime soon; not before it would get too dark out for them to leave.

“Well, glad to hear it.”, Sweetie Belle said. “Now that our crusader business is done, does anypony feel like watching more of those Bedtime Stories?”

“Sure.”

“Sure.”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo echoed one another. The former wanted to kill some time and the latter really could use a distraction right now. With her magic, Sweetie Belle flicked on the crystal ball to reveal the list of stories on a holographic screen. Using the pen she began to slowly scroll up past the story they watched last night. She barely even got two stories up before Apple Bloom stopped her.

“Hol’ up!”, she exclaimed before pointing her hoof at the title and reading it aloud. “Who Are The Men In Black?Didn’t the Mothman story mention those guys at some point?”

“Yeah, I think it did. Now that you mention them, I’m kinda curious to know what business they had in Point Pleasant. What’s their deal?”, Scootaloo added with one eyebrow quirked up.

“Well, looks like we’ve got our next story!”

With that, Sweetie Belle clicked the story of choice and took a seat between the other two fillies in front of the screen. They were immediately greeted by the image of a human in a black fedora standing up close and staring directly at the viewer. Several feet behind him was the silhouette of a similarly dressed human standing next to one of those “car” thingys.

“Why did they choose to not draw the eyes?”, Scootaloo puzzled at the empty black holes where the human’s eyes should have been.

The narrator, in his usual rhetorical fashion, opened this story by pondering the nature of these Men in Black. Were they government agents of suppression or extraterrestrial visitors in disguise? Could recent “CCTV footage” finally prove their existence? He then declared that “we” would attempt to pull back the veil on these highly mysterious individuals.

As the intro played, Apple Bloom the opportunity to ask, “What does he mean by ‘government agents of suppression’?”

Sweetie tapped her chin in thought before replying, “Maybe he’s saying that these guys might be working for a tyrant?”

“You mean that West Virginia or North America or… whatever this place is has a ruler as bad as King Sombra?”, Scootaloo asked.

“*shiver… please don’t remind me of him!”, Apple Bloom chided, not wanting to reminisce about the time she lost control of her own mind to that monster.

“Basically, yeah. That is what means to suppress, after all. Abusing and controlling other people, stuff like that. Or… was that actually the definition of oppress?”, Sweetie struggled to recall.

When the intro had finally begun to fade out, the growing absence of the song was being filled by an initially quiet, but increasingly louder sound of a ticking clock; it was also accompanied by the occasional electronic percussion. This soundtrack had the effect of adding suspense and increased the girl’s anticipation for what was ahead. The narrator started explaining how the “Condon Committee” was surveying the public’s attitude towards UFOs. In 1968, they asked a cross-section of the American public whether they believed that there was a government agency maintaining a top secret file on UFO reports that are deliberately withheld from the public. Almost two thirds of all people surveyed agreed with that assertion; agreement with the statement was apparently almost 75% amongst teenagers.

“But why would the government lie about that?”, Apple Bloom asked. “What would be the point of keepin’ UFOs secret?”

“I mean, everypony has secrets. So, why wouldn’t the government have secrets too?”

Sweetie Belle earned herself several seconds of silence and deadpan glares with that comment.

“I was just kidding.”, she clarified with an eye roll.

It’s believed that if that survey was handed out today, the percentage of those in agreement would be even higher. According to the narrator, this shouldn’t be a surprise with how their world was undergoing an age of information (or misinformation depending on how one sees it) with the advent of the internet. It’s now become commonplace to question or make accusations against those in power. But over half a century before, this distrust towards government was nowhere near as prevalent as it has become today.

The screen then cut to something that the three fillies found to be near jaw dropping. Two human figures stood silhouetted in front of a truly gargantuan disk-like object sticking straight up from the earth. The object would be a complete circle if it weren’t for the large of it missing on top. Apparently, this image was meant to represent an event that according to the narrator made the idea of government conspiracies and coverups mainstream. An event simply known as “The Roswell Incident”.

“That looks just like those flying saucers you see in UFO magazines!”, Scootaloo said in a breathy tone.

“Wait. If these humans are seeing spaceships that look exactly like the ones ponies here in Equestria report seeing, does that mean this proves that aliens are real?”, Sweetie Belle wondered with wide open eyes conveying her moment of clarity.

“Ah guess, but are we not lookin’ at somethin’ made by aliens right NOW?”

“Aliens that are talking about possibly being visited by OTHER aliens, no less!”, Sweetie added enthusiastically onto Apple Bloom’s question.

During the 1950s, UFO witnesses and investigators apparently started getting harassed, threatened and ordered into silence by mysterious individuals known as the Men in Black. These strange men were always described as wearing all black suits and hats as well as driving around in black cars. At the time, it was believed that they worked for a secret government organization, tasked with suppressing any mention of UFOs or extra-terrestrials from the public domain.

All three girls, especially Apple Bloom, were pretty perplexed by this notion. Equestria’s government has maintained a pretty open attitude in regards to UFOs for many years now. There are several government-funded research projects dedicated to the study of UFO reports and there are even more that are receiving funding under Princess Twilight’s new reign as ruler of Equestria. All of this is widely available to the public’s scrutinizing eye. They also couldn’t imagine a government acting so sinister and secretive. They’ve only ever known their own rulers as a benevolent force in their lives in the form of their Princesses; Celestia, Cadence, Luna, and now Twilight. Unless this really was a ruthless tyranny the humans were living under, which didn’t seem that way, this behavior was incredibly strange to them.

However, this initial assumption that these individuals are government agents has evolved over the years. It is now posited by many that they are actually extra-terrestrial in nature. In 1997, one “film”(?) by the same name made light of the Men in Black conspiracy with disarming comic effect. But for those who had supposedly been visited by these entities, it was no laughing matter.

“Ah take it none of us know what a ‘film’ is?”, Apple Bloom asked the room.

“I mean, there’s camera films. Maybe it has something to do with that?”, Scootaloo said with a shrug of her shoulders.

In 1952, a former “US Air Force” serviceman turned author and amateur ufologist named Albert K. Bender set up an organization called the International Flying Saucers Bureau to investigate and report on any strange UFO activity being witnessed all over the world at that time.

“US Air Force? Is that like the military sky division? I don’t see any wings on him though.”, Scootaloo thought as she scrutinized the image of the bespectacled and bow tie clad human in front of her.

The organization was initially a success, publishing a weekly newsletter to its small but dedicated audience of around 2000 readers worldwide. All of sudden, Bender then mysteriously shut down his operation, ceasing all publication in 1953. In the newsletter’s final issue, he left the following ominous message: “We advise those engaged in saucer work to please be very cautious.”

Colleagues reported that he exhibited odd behavior at the time, stating that he seemed agitated and nervous. It felt as if something or someone had scared him out of his wits. He did not eat or sleep properly for weeks after he closed the bureau and was said to have suffered terrible headaches at the time. When questioned about his sudden and inexplicable decision, Bender refused to elaborate; he maintained his silence for many years afterward. Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but feel unnerved listening to this.

“Jeez. What did they do to him!?”

Almost a decade later, Bender finally began explaining his actions. He claimed that three men dressed in black seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They paid him a visit where they had warned him not to continue his work on UFOs. A similar, chilling encounter was reported years later in 1976 by a physician named Dr. Herbert Hopkins. At his residence in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, Hopkins was home alone studying a UFO incident from months prior, until the “phone” suddenly rang. Through this device, Hopkins heard the voice of a man claiming to be a representative of the New Jersey UFO Organization (a claim which later turned out to be bogus).

“This ‘phone’ thingy sounds like it could put poor Spike out of a job. Ah mean, not only sendin’ messages in real time, but hearin’ the sender’s voice relayin’ their message to ya?”, Apple Bloom spoke with marvel at the incredible technological advancement these primates possessed.

“That might be good for him, actually. Spike gets pretty bad stomach aches if he has to send too many in a day.”, Sweetie countered.

The voice on the other end of the phone asked Hopkins if he was alone and whether he could talk to him about the UFO case he was investigating.

“Wait, how did he know Hopkins was studying a UFO case?”, Scootaloo said with one eyebrow raised.

When Hopkins agreed to let him come over, the man told him that he would “be there shortly”. The moment he hung up, Hopkins went up to his front door to turn on the porch light. As soon as he got to the front of his house, he noticed the man was somehow already there climbing up the front steps. A detail that unsurprisingly disturbed all three fillies to no end.

“This is soundin’ creepier by the second!”, Apple Bloom exclaimed.

Hopkins was obviously every bit as, if not more, unnerved by this at the time as the Crusaders were now. He didn’t fail to point out how impossible it was for the man to have reached the front door in the minuscule span of time it took Hopkins to make it from the phone to the light switch. Both the fillies and the witness were struck by the man’s bizarre appearance as they saw him enter through the door. Dressed in a dark suit that didn’t fit and a black derby hat, the man was not only very tall and thin but he also had skin that was both deathly pale and unbelievably smooth. No hair could be found on him. None on his head, no eyebrows, not even any eyelashes according to Hopkins.

All three girls gave a collective gag in response to that last part. There was something universally icky to them about not having eyelashes.

A major detail that the girls weren’t able to tell from the illustration was the fact that the stranger’s lips were bright ruby red. He supposedly spoke in a tone that was totally expressionless with no inflection or intonation and all of his words were evenly spaced. Throughout their conversation, the strange man in black had sat motionless, his mouth being the only thing that moved. On one of the few occasions that the man moved any other part of his body, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. This left a red smear across his cheeks.

“Okay. So, he was wearing red lipstick? What’s so important about that?”, Sweetie asked the orb, even though it couldn’t hear her.

Not only did Hopkins come to the same realization, he also finally noticed that the man did not even have a pair of lips; just perfectly straight slit for a mouth.

“That’s it! There is no way that this guy is flesh n’ bone! Ah’m callin’ it right now.”, Apple Bloom declared.

Scootaloo concurred with her and very simply punctuated Apple Bloom’s statement with one word.

“Definitely.”

Having become very frightened at this point, Hopkins complied immediately when the inhuman visitor asked him to remove the copper coin from his pocket.

“Wha-. Bu-… how did he-?”

Like Apple Bloom, Hopkins had no clue how the stranger knew about his coin. But for some reason, throughout their conversation he got the distinct feeling that this man was somehow reading his mind. With no alternative explanation of her own, Apple Bloom felt compelled to just accept the one that had just been given.

Once Hopkins held out the coin in the palm of his hand as instructed, all three fillies leaned in out of anticipation for wherever this was going. As Hopkins stared at the coin, he saw how it inexplicably transformed from copper to silver before his very eyes. While the Crusaders found this action to be bizarre, it was certainly not threatening, helpful even. That’s what they thought until the further described how the coin then became blurry like it was going out of focus, before finally disappearing altogether. While the strange man told the doctor that he would suffer the same fate as that coin unless he destroyed all evidence he collected on the UFO case, the girls simply sat in stunned silence with the occasional eye twitch. They may technically have seen things more bizarre than that in their lifetimes, but that didn’t undercut the threat and display of power this action exhibited.

“And here ah thought only Discord could do somethin’ as crazy as that.”

“For all we know, these guys might be old roommates of his or something.”

“If that were true, should that make me more afraid of them or more afraid of Discord?”, Sweetie asked, capping off her friends’ lines of inquiry.

As the visitor spoke those last words to him, Hopkins stated that the man’s speech got slower and more slurred. The strange man then told him that his energy was running low and that he needed to leave. The doctor showed him to the door and watched as he walked down the steps while holding on to the railing as if he were crippled. After the man hobbled around a corner out of sight, there was a bright flash and then what followed was absolute silence.

Sweetie Belle looked back and forth between her friends and simply asked, “So… alien robot?”

“No shit.”

“No shit.”

Her two friends swore in perfect unison. Meanwhile, Hopkins was so disturbed by this experience that when his family came back home later that evening, they found him sat in the living room staring out into space and every light in the house turned on. There have been many other reported encounters with Men in Black over the last 50 to 60 years. Since their existence extremely difficult to prove, belief in these supposed MIB encounters has often boiled down simply to the witnesses’ credibility. This is why these reports have often been met with high levels of cynicism or even outright derision from the wider community. However, in 2012 some interesting CCTV footage recorded from a camera in a hotel lobby near Niagara Falls four earlier surfaced on the “internet”.

“Wait! They have a place called Neighagra Falls too!?”, Sweetie Belle asked in disbelief, not noticing how the little white text spelled it differently.

Apple Bloom would have joined Sweetie Belle on that front if she weren’t hung up on something else that was mentioned.

“What’s the ‘internet’? Is it some kinda special Butterfly net?”, she asked with narrowed eyes and a cocked eyebrow.

Two weeks prior to the recording, after witnessing UFO activity over the Niagara River early in the morning, one hotel employee told his friends and colleagues about it. The hotel then later received a visit from two strange men dressed in black. The camera captured the two men entering the hotel lobby; they appeared to have walked in exactly the same manner, wore exactly the same clothes and even looked similar in facial structure and build. According to witnesses, these men looked like they were identical twins, the spitting image of one another. Both were said to be tall, thin, completely without hair and failed to give off any sign of emotion or facial expression; exactly like the description that Hopkins gave.

While the narrator rattled off all this information, the fillies’ attention was instead entirely on the “footage” on screen. Their eyes dazzled at the moving pictures of the two men walking through the hotel doors on loop

“I know we keep bringing this up, but dang these humans have the coolest stuff!”, Scootaloo said in slack-jawed awe.

“I know, right? What sort of magic does it take to make a photo move?”, Sweetie Belle added while turning to look at her friend.

The two men had identical, hypnotic icy-blue eyes that never once blinked. Under these men’s gaze, employees and staff felt exposed while talking to them. Like they were having their innermost thoughts read like an open book. The strange men in black kept asking to see the young man who witnessed the UFO activity two weeks earlier. Luckily for him, the man in question was not at work that day. Realizing that they couldn’t get ahold of him, the strange visitors asked the staff members about other UFO sightings and conspiracy theories.

“What’s a ‘conspiracy’, anyway?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“I’m pretty sure it’s when a bunch of ponies or creatures secretly plot together to do something bad.”, Sweetie Belle spoke up (who else?).

Giving off no signs of being either satisfied or dissatisfied with the staff’s answers, the two men logged the information and abruptly left to never be seen again. While reports such as these suggest that the Men in Black are extra-terrestrials, there are also tons other reports where witnesses reported no such odd appearances or behavior from the men who visited them. So, the narrator asked, what is to be believed? Are the Men in Black human, non-human… or both? Are they really humans and extra-terrestrials working together towards the same goal?

“Or, in other words, a conspiracy?”, Scootaloo thought.

The narrator then rhetorically asked if the MIB even exist at all. There is apparently very little evidence to prove their existence. Even the CCTV footage is highly questionable, since it happened to be released at the same time the third Men in Black “movie” was being heavily promoted online. This leads skeptics to believe that it was only part of a viral marketing campaign. But this doesn’t explain the 2008 time stamp or the numerous witness accounts which back it up.

“There’s actually that many humans out there who think THAT was faked, just to advertise some sort of big event?”

Scootaloo wasted no time answering Sweetie’s obviously rhetorical question with, “Like I said yesterday, think back to when we worked for our school’s paper.”

While Sweetie Belle deadpanned at her friend who wasn’t even looking, story continued explaining the skeptics’ position. One of the biggest points they raise is how this MIB phenomenon is solely reported in the land of North America and nowhere else in the world. Since then, it’s an ingrained facet of American culture. Not only that, but its peak notoriety was during a time when paranoia about UFO activity was at an all time high. Finally, they argue that this all began because of one man: Albert Bender. They believe every subsequent report was copied from his account with the intent to further inflate the legend.

However, not all of these claims are entirely true. Reports of MIB’s are not just limited to the United States, they’ve also been spotted in Europe and Australia among other parts of the world.

“Wait, ah thought they said North America was supposedly the only place they were seen?”, Apple Bloom questioned to no avail.

Whilst the modern depiction of Men in Black can mostly be traced back to Bender’s account, there’s some evidence to suggest that the phenomena actually goes back hundreds of years. There were many during the “Middle Ages” of strange men dressed in black robes and black hats. There were said to be odd in both appearance and behavior and supposedly possessed “inhuman” capabilities. With how eerily similar every description of these strange men were, many were lead to believe that they were actually all manifestations of one man: the devil.

Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie Belle to ask her, “What’s a devil, Sweetie?”.

Sweetie Belle looked back at Apple Bloom with incredibly incredulous expression on her face.

“I don’t know! Why would you assume I’d have the answer, anyway?”

The connection to this so-called devil has made some speculate that these Men in Black are spiritual, paranormal or even “demonic”. Further links have been made to “shadow people”. Particularly the “Hat Man” for reasons obvious to everyone except the three fillies watching.

Additionally, people have also claimed that these MIB’s have some sort of connection to some “Black Eyed Children; numerous reports have been made of MIB’s riding in the same vehicle as these black eyed kids. It was at this point that the Crusaders realized just how much they were going to have to get used to references that went right over their heads.

Scootaloo once again looked upon the drawing of the one Man in Black she saw from the beginning of the video. The way the artist drew it staring back at her with empty black eyes now seemed appropriate given what she now knew about these soulless automatons.

Regardless of the lesser known, it is mostly accepted by the fringe community that MIB’s are extra-terrestrial visitors who have infiltrated various governments around the world. Not only do theorists suspect that these governments are aware of the visitors’ presence, but they also believe that they are colluding with these aliens for reasons unknown. Whoever they are, it’s still remains true that no good comes from meeting them face to face. Every single person who’s come into contact with these mysterious individuals has felt intimidated, threatened and utterly disturbed by their presence. As part of the conclusion, the narrator told the audience that if they were lucky enough to witness a UFO or some other supernatural event later hears any knocks on their front door in the dead of night… he advises them not to answer it.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Storyteller!”, Sweetie Belle said before adding a quick, “Phew!”.

As Sweetie Belle melodramatically chose to wipe her brow with her hoof, Apple Bloom felt now was the time to get something off her chest.

“Y’all mind if ah ask ya somethin’?”

“Sure, what’s up?”, Scootaloo replied.

With one hoof rubbing the back of her head she asked them, “Do ya think there’s a chance our rulers cover up stuff like this?”

This question gave way to a moment of silent contemplation on her friends’ part, genuinely trying to consider whether they could find any basis to such a notion.

“I mean, I can’t say for sure. But so far, I’m drawing a blank on anything that might have been covered up by the Princesses… or anyone in government.”, Scootaloo replied while tapping a hoof to her chin.

“I can’t think of anything, either-“.

Sweetie Belle paused as her eyes not only widened twinkled with realization.

“Except…”

“Except what?”, Apple Bloom pressed.

“Okay, okay. So, you know how before Nightmare Moon returned, her story was just considered an old mare’s tale; never once was it in our history textbooks?”

Upon hearing this query, Scootaloo raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Wait, it wasn’t?”

It was at that moment that Scootaloo wished she kept her mouth shut. Because that question earned her looks from both her friends that was the right mix of perplexed, astounded and disapproving. It very clearly communicated, “You should feel bad for not knowing this.”

“Which is something that I already knew!”, finally added while looking off to the side, not daring to make eye contact.

“Ya never studied, Scoots.”, Apple Bloom shook her head at her pegasus friend in disappointment.

“Anyways…”, Sweetie continued. “How did something that important fade from historical record so easily?”

“Ah mean, ah assumed that ponies overtime just forgot. Plus, weren’t they pretty bad at record keepin’ back in the day?”

While Apple Bloom raised a good point, that still didn’t satisfy Sweetie Belle.

“Again, that still seems way too big to just forget and not write down. Plus, there was one pony who was always around that could have set the record straight.”

“Who?”, Scootaloo asked.

“Princess Celestia, of course!”

After thinking about it for a second, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom began to wonder if Sweetie Belle might actually be onto something. Why would Celestia allow all record of her younger sister to fade away into obscurity? Why only allow it’s memory to persist as a myth?

“I’m just saying that maybe, just maybe, Celestia forbid any mention of Luna’s banishment from being written down.”, Sweetie Belle said.

“Woah, hold on! Then why did we still have the legend of the two Alicorn sisters and the Mare in the Moon?”, Scootaloo asked.

“I mean, have you noticed that the story never mentions the two sisters’ names?”, Sweetie paused to let her point sink in.

“It probably wasn’t a problem to publish a story that happened to be about two Alicorn sisters who ruled ponykind together. Just so long as it was described as a ‘myth’ and it never described either sister as being Celestia or Luna.”

“So, what are ya sayin’? That Celestia covered up her sister’s existence because…?”, Apple Bloom trailed to allow Sweetie Belle explain herself more clearly.

“Well, I don’t think she was trying to completely erase all memory of her. Just forbidding people from talking about her sister’s banishment, especially in front of her. Ponies probably legit forgot entirely about Luna because they didn’t write nearly as much about her before she was sent to the moon as they did Celestia.”

“Okay, but what are you getting at? Are you saying that Celestia just didn’t want to be remembered as the Princess who banished her own sister to the moon?”, Scootaloo reiterated Apple Bloom’s question.

“Well, yes.”, Sweetie admitted. “But she also might not wanted to have ponies constantly bringing it up to her. Can you imagine grieving for a thousand years and all the while random ponies keep trying to talk to you about the worst day of your life?”

Apple Bloom looked down, a frown forming on her face while she pictured herself in Celestia’s place.

“Yeah. Ah would hate havin’ everypony else addin’ on to mah own guilt.”

“I guess it sorta makes sense.”, Scootaloo chimed in. “Still, I’m pretty sure if there was a government conspiracy going on, we’d definitely know about it.”

“Why’s that?”

Apple Bloom had no idea what possessed her friend to make such a claim. However, even if they turned out to be nonsense, she still couldn’t help but want to know the reasons behind this assertion.

“Hellooo? Equestria to Apple Bloom? Are you forgetting about the six greatest heroes in Equestria today?”

With one raised eye brow Sweetie Belle answered with, “You mean the Elements of Harmony?”

“Yup! We’re all personally connected to one of the Elements in one way or another.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with us bein’ in on conspiracies?”, Apple Bloom continued to press.

“Think about it, Apple Bloom! Not that long ago, all six of the elements reported directly to her highness, Celestia herself.”, Scootaloo spread her hooves wide, gesturing towards the here and now. “Later, one of them became Princess and now the rest report to her. The elements of harmony are practically part-time government agents!”

For a solid ten seconds, neither Apple Bloom nor Sweetie Belle said anything. Instead, they pondered Scootaloo’s assertion until they realized that, in a weird way, she was kind of right. For the longest time they knew their sisters as noble heroes, role models and as the best at what they did. But they never thought of them as agents to the crown. While they weren’t sure why, this did make them look at their idols in a way that felt… different somehow. It wasn’t until an extra few seconds after this realization that Apple Bloom finally spoke up.

“Alright, Scoots. Ah will admit that while at first ah thought that was nothin’ but horse apples, yer actually sorta right now that I’ve thought about it.”

“I don’t know if they would ever let us in on any government secrets, though.”, Sweetie Belle piped in.

“Why not?”, Scootaloo asked.

“I mean, when did you learn that humans even existed, Scootaloo? Who was the one to finally tell you about them? Cause it sure wasn’t Rainbow.”

“I mean-“

Before Scootaloo could finish, Sweetie Belle turned and pointed a hoof at Apple Bloom.

“And Applejack, YOUR sister and the Element of Honesty, also thought it best not to tell you about the fact that Princess Twilight regularly goes through a portal to another world where humans live.”

Hearing this caused Apple Bloom to shift uncomfortably in her seating spot on the floor; so did Scootaloo. Both fillies had always taken taken pride and comfort in the idea that their sisters (or surrogate sister in Scootaloo’s case) always shared everything with them. The idea that they even kept secrets from them… while neither would want to say it hurt, they weren’t sure what other word to use. Scootaloo began looking down at the floor, using one hoof to trace circles along it. Apple Bloom was only able to muster up two words in response.

“Well, shucks.”

Seeing how poorly both of them were taking this, Sweetie Belle decided to speak up once again.

“If it makes you feel any better, MY sister didn’t tell me about this either. Remember, I had to really pester Twilight just to get her to tell me about it.”

“It’s fine, Sweetie. Really. It’s just-“, Apple Bloom looked her in the eye before pointing a hoof in her direction. “how much other stuff do you they think don’t tell us?”

In response, Sweetie Belle did nothing more than simply shrug her shoulders. Scootaloo, meanwhile, had finished staring off into space and spoke to her friends once more.

“You know, this has all got me wondering about those ‘friendship missions’ that they always go on.”

Pausing she looked back up at her Sweetie and Apple Bloom. Both silently looked upon her with anticipation, the latter motioning with her hoof to continue speaking.

“Do any of us really know what they do on their friendship quests? I mean, they always say that the ‘cutie map’ sends them off to fix a ‘friendship problem’. But we don’t ever really see it for ourselves.”

“Ya think that ‘friendship problem’ might be a cover somethin’ else they’re doin’?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“Maybe.”

“Well, what do ya think they actually do when they’re out on those quests?”

“Probably something wicked and top secret! Something that top government agents like them only do!”

While Scootaloo thought up of fanciful Daring Do-like secret adventures that Rainbow Dash and her friends went on, a very different and unsettling thought came to Sweetie Belle’s imagination.

“Or Men in Black type stuff…”

“What?”

“Wha?”

“Well, what if ‘friendship problem’ is a cover story for whenever their doing missions that involve the type of stuff those guys did?”, Sweetie Belle punctuated her sentence by pointing back at the orb.

Upon realizing what Sweetie was implying, Scootaloo sloppily sputtered out her next words.

“Th-that’s crazy talk! How could you ever think they’d do anything like that!? Plus, they’d be too high profile for that type of job.”

“But really think about it! Does Equestria really need six of its most accomplished heroes to help ponies whose friendship are a rough patch? Or would they be called on to do the government’s dirty work?”

“Okay, ah think that’s enough!”, Apple Bloom interrupted.

“What? It’s just a theory.”, said Sweetie Belle.

“Ah know it is, but this conversation has gone on for way too long. How about instead of makin’ up stuff about our sisters bein’ part of some shadowy government conspiracy, why don’t we watch another story?”

Sweetie and Scootaloo looked to each other before answering in unison.

“Okay.”

“Alright, then. Sweetie, can ya sneak us some sodas n’ snacks from downstairs while me and Scoots choose the next one to watch?”

“On it!”, Sweetie Belle cheerfully said before dashing out the door.

Listening to the clip clop of Sweetie’s hooves going down the steps, Apple Bloom finally let loose a sigh of relief. She absolutely did not come here to listen to her sister be accused of doing sinister things like deceiving the public or intimidating innocent ponies. That’s not who she was.

Author's Note

Well here it finally is! I feel like this chapter didn’t come out as nice I wanted it to be, since at some point I decided to rush it. But I’ll leave to be judge of that! What are your thoughts on this chapter?

By the way, to anyone who’s enjoying this. PLEASE leave a like. It would be much appreciated.

Edit: Embedded the original video for you guys

Who Killed Cindy James?

At this hour of the day, Carousel Boutique would usually be alive with the sounds of a master seamstress at work. The rapid mechanical whirs of a sewing machine would be the first thing to greet anypony walking in. If they stayed long enough the visitor could also have their ears graced with a cacophony of snips and clips from multiple scissors wielded by the magic of the excellent multitasker that is the owner. Once in awhile a pony even got to hear that same mare humming a merry tune, a testament to how she was truly in her element, breezing through her work. However, this day all of those sounds had given way to silence instead; that was, until the quiet was interrupted by the little clinks created by a filly shuffling through the fridge.

Despite all the noise she was making, Sweetie Belle really was trying to be as quiet as possible. It wasn’t because she was afraid of being caught. She was just sneaking some soda bottles and a bag of chips, it’s not like she was raiding her sister’s liquor cabinet. Still, it was probable that if Rarity caught her, she might decide to not let her and friends snack before dinner. Sweetie definitely didn’t want to disappoint by having to come upstairs empty-hooved.

She snuck a look back at her sister, sleeping in her chair with a notebook on her chest and several hooves across from where she sat was a mannequin adorned with all sorts of materials and fabrics Sweetie had never seen Rarity use before. She must have been at some sort of creative roadblock if she was experimenting with anything she could find.
Sweetie already had a hunch since this morning that Rarity had pulled one of her all-nighters and seeing her sister asleep at this hour had confirmed that theory. A part of her wanted to wake Rarity up, maybe offer her help to complete this latest commission that’s got her so stumped, but she thought better of it. She had no solutions to help in Rarity in a creative sense and she’d just get in her big sister’s way. Besides, Rarity always managed to figure it out eventually.

Figuring that now to be a good time, Sweetie sneakily swiped three bottles from the fridge. Using her magic she carried all the sodas and the chip bag alongside her, Sweetie Belle made her way to the stairs. Carefully, she tippy-hoofed up each step until she was finally at the top. Feeling like she was totally in the clear (and had won a special badge in stealth in the process) Sweetie neglected to be as careful with the door.

The sharp bam that came from the door to Sweetie’s room slamming was loud enough to awake Rarity downstairs. The alabaster unicorn stirred out of her slumber and blinked the blur from her eyes. When her eyes cleared up she took a look at the clock: partially out of habit, but mostly to see how long she’d been out.

4:30.

“Shoot. That’s *yawn two hours wasted. And now I have to start preparing dinner soon.”

Sweetie Belle slammed the door shut behind her and put on the best Manehatten accent she could muster from all her collective memories of talking to Babs Seed.

“Alrite ya low-lives, snuck in sum cawntra baand for ya’s. Ya betta pay up!”

Quickly catching on to the prison guard bit Sweetie was doing, Scootaloo asked, “Aren’t they a little more discreet about that sort of stuff in prison?”

Sweetie Belle might have quipped something back, but stopped to take notice of what her two friends were up to. When Scootaloo had given her reply, she had done so with one hoof covering her eyes and the other extended all the way and pointing directly at the screen. Meanwhile, Apple Bloom had the orb’s pen clenched between her teeth and was using it to scroll up the list of stories.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Wrr chrim ssshum noo-“

“Scoots, tell me what you’re doing.”

Sweetie Belle interrupted Apple Bloom in the middle of her impossible to understand explanation that she had been giving with the pen still in her mouth.

“I’m keeping my eyes closed while Apple Bloom scrolls through the stories. I’ll tell her stop and whatever story my hoof lands on will be the next one we watch.”

“Why do you need to use this method just to choose the next one?”

“We were kinda fighting over which ones we wanted to see next, so we had to compromise. Plus, this way if any of us pick one that sucks, we can say it wasn’t our fault since it was all by chance.”

“Hmmm… good point.”, Sweetie said with narrowed eyes before using her magic to start opening one of the sodas.

“Speaking of which…”, Scootaloo continued. “Apple Bloom, I’d like you to stop right… NOW.”

Apple Bloom happily obliged and then eagerly spit the pen out onto the floor. Scootaloo uncovered her eyes to look at whatever story she had just selected for them all to watch. She looked at the story’s “cover” and saw the image of a long-haired, feminine-looking human; or feminine as far as she could tell, she wasn’t sure if she’s seen enough images of these human beings to automatically distinguish between their boys and girls. In the drawing, “she” was smiling while looking directly in the viewer’s direction as if she were posing for a photo. That’s probably what the illustration was copied from, actually. Scootaloo finally allowed her eyes to draw to the title and immediately she read it aloud.

“Who Killed Cindy James?”

“Woah! Sounds like we’re going to listen to a murder mystery this time.”, Sweetie said while opening a second soda bottle with her magic and then levitating each one to Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom looked at the projected screen where the next story awaited them, and frowned. She wasn’t sure how to feel about watching a story about a real pony… or person’s death. She recalled her big sister’s rants at sensationalist headlines by newspapers who were “crowdin’ around the grievin’ like buzzards”. However, Apple Bloom ultimately decided to not give any protest and just took her first swig of pop.

Sweetie Belle once again lifted the pen with her magic and clicked on the story.

The Bedtime Stories narrator wasted little time establishing the time and place as June, 1989 in “Vancouver”. It was on that warm, summer’s day that the battered and bruised body of a dead woman was found in the yard of an abandoned house. The police had determined that she had committed suicide. But her history of enduring threatening phone calls and abusive stalking might suggest otherwise. Sweetie Belle was unsurprisingly feeling a bit disturbed at the mention of stalking and such, but that was still tempered by the same morbid curiosity that brought all three of them to where they are now. That sense of intrigue was undercut when Scootaloo spoke up with a mouth full of chips.

“Ah dunno if thish ish insenshitiv, but for a weird primate thingy she looksh pretty.”

As Scootaloo swallowed her chips and reached in the bag for more, the other two looked at her with half-lidded stares that laid their irritation and disapproval out in the open.

“Ya think that maybe if ya have ta ask whether or not somethin’ y’all will say is insensitive, then maybe ya shouldn’t bother sayin’ it?”, Apple Bloom scolded.

“I mean, it’s still a compliment, right?”, Scootaloo non-commitally defended before shoveling more chips into her mouth.

“A pretty back-hoofed compliment.”, Sweetie murmured while turning her face back to the screen.

She was greeted by the slow, solemn and somewhat suspenseful soundtrack of what she could tell was some type of woodwork instrument and some soft digital percussion. This was soon accompanied by the image of what looked like a human with its back towards the camera dressed in the same gear that she’s seen construction workers wear all the time. This made Sweetie wonder two things: 1.) Why do these humans happen to dress so similarly to the ponies of Equestria? 2.) Why has every single human she’s seen all worn clothes?

The human was apparently a road worker who had wandered out of sight of his colleagues. He appeared to be checking out the abandoned house that he’d wondered over towards. Supposedly, the man had noticed a putrid smell that hung in the air around the house. He didn’t think much of it since the house was known for having secret parties; in all likelihood it was a garbage bag that had split open and festered in the summer heat.

“Given the title of this story, fat chance that’s what it actually was.”, Scootaloo said grimly before sipping her soda pop.

“Ah wonder, has anypony done that here in Ponyville? Throw a secret party in an abandoned buildin’, ah mean.”

Sweetie gave off a satisfied sigh after gulping down some of her own pop and then immediately responded to Apple Bloom’s question.

“Now that you mention it, I wonder if there have been any secret parties like that in Nightmare Moon’s castle in the Everfree?”

“Now there’s a reallllly scary spot for a spooky party now that Nightmare Night is around the corner!”, Scootaloo butted back in.

On his way to “relieve himself” in the long, overgrown grass behind the property, the road worker finally noticed “it”. As the narrator continued to speak, the story was panning down to reveal that in the yard was the body of a woman lying on its side, her hands and feet tied behind her back. The fillies watching felt the slightest queezy looking at the emaciated, decaying body of Cindy James, but they were thankfully somewhat prepared for it thanks to the title. The narrator further described how there was a black nylon stalking wrapped around her neck that was digging into her skin and how her face, black from decomposition, contrasted her long blonde hair.

Police already had a hunch as to who the deceased was before even arriving on scene and their suspicions were shortly confirmed afterwards. The body belonged to Cindy James, a local middle-aged woman who had disappeared two weeks prior. Her car had been found abandoned in a neighborhood car park; inside, investigators not only found groceries and a wrapped gift, but blood on the driver’s side door. The contents of her purse had also been placed or dropped underneath the vehicle.

Not having knowledge of how crime scenes work, none of the Crusaders knew how to react when the narrator claimed that those last details indicated foul play. However, they still took the narrator at his word that those were in fact evidence. The police ruled it a suicide by overdose since high amounts of a “morphine-based drug” in her blood. Even so, the coroner listed the cause of death as an “unknown event”.

“Waaaiiit, how were they able to read her blood?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Duh, they used a blood testing spell.”, Scootaloo couldn’t believe that Sweetie managed to forget something that’s existed in Equestria for over a hundred years at this point.

“But that’s the thing! Twilight said that in the human world magic is rare and it’s existence is both unknown and denied by most people.”

“Well, that’s just plum ridiculous! How do ya have a society that advanced without any magic?”, Apple Bloom said in disbelief.

With controversy sparked in the local community and the opinions of armchair investigators split worldwide, the narrator decided that in order to better understand such a curious case, one must got back to the beginning. Sweetie perked up slightly upon hearing this. She was intrigued to get to know this person’s story and what strange events could have possibly led to her death. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom may not have been so visibly stirred, but they were interested so far.

Born as Cindy Hack in 1944, she lived the first year of her life in “Ontario” with her father Otto who was stationed there as an army doctor. Shortly after the end of the Second World War, the family moved to Vancouver so that Otto could attend university in the hopes of advancing his medical career. When this proved unsuccessful, Otto rejoined the military in 1949 in a training capacity which meant he would have to work all over the country.

“Ah guess Ontario n’ Vancouver aren’t separate countries from the sound of it.”, Apple Bloom mentally corrected.

This constant moving to different parts of the country would characterize much of Cindy’s childhood. Her family never stayed in one place long enough for her to be able to form the connections that are important for children her age.

*sigh

“Somethin’ wrong?”, Apple Bloom turned to face the source of the sound.

“Everything’s fine… I was just thinking about how my parents almost took me far away from you guys to Shire Lanka last year.”, Scootaloo confessed.

Her frown suddenly shifted into a smile as she recalled how that event ended, “Glad we were able to talk ‘em out of it.”

Sweetie Belle gave Scootaloo a comforting pat on her back.

By all accounts, Cindy was an incredibly bright child who loved books and aspired early on to become a nurse. However, she never really developed a social life as a child.

“I think my sister told me that Twilight was supposedly like that her entire life before coming to Ponyville.”, Sweetie Belle said.

“Yeah. This lady does sound sorta like Miss -er… Princess Twilight back when ah first saw her here in Ponyville.”, Apple Bloom agreed vocally while using one hoof to tap her chin.

Cindy’s parents actively discouraged her from making friends, possibly trying to protect her from the feelings of loss she would have to endure all too often with their itinerant lifestyle. She found even less companionship in her parents. Otto was a strict disciplinarian who treated her as a live-in house maid rather than a daughter.

“Harsh.”, said Scootaloo

“Ehhh. Ah bet their exaggeratin’ about the house work. It probably ain’t nothin’ worse than the chores ah have ta do around the farm.”, Apple Bloom interjected.

Before Scootaloo could counter back, Sweetie Belle replied on her behalf, “I think you’re forgetting that you do way more work than we or anypony else our age who we know does.”

“*groan… Ah mean, sure it sucks but ya get used to it.”, the farm filly concluded while taking the time to give her back a much needed stretch. With her forelegs outstretched and her torso twisting to the right, her spine gave a satisfying pop. Her groans of exertion finally gave way to a contented sigh.

In 1962, her father’s request to work overseas was granted and he intended to relocate the family to France. However, now that she was a legal adult woman of 18 years, Cindy refused to go with them this time. Unwilling to move abroad, but unable to stay in Ottawa, she instead took a nursing course at Vancouver General Hospital, moving into the nurses’ dormitories on site. She was relatively happy in her new position, maintaining a B+ average at nursing school and visiting her family in France during the next three summers. Much to her parents’ shock, however, they later received a letter from Cindy, detailing the apparent suicide of her “fiancé”.

While Sweetie Belle suddenly began choking on her whole mouthful of chips and Apple Bloom nearly spittaked, Scootaloo was the only one left to vocalize what everypony was thinking.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah! When did she get a fiancé!?!”

Apparently, neither her parents nor her brother who visited her regularly ever knew she was engaged until they got that letter.

As Apple Bloom finally got Sweetie to cough up her chips by applying the Heimlich maneuver, Scootaloo continued, “The story actually decided to skip the part where she got engaged and NOW we’re learning that her fiancé… killed himself?”

One would be hesitant to say that it was often that a pony committed suicide in the land of Equestria. Still, it was often enough that all three fillies have had experience asking a grownup why somepony would ever kill themselves after hearing a story about such an instance from the newspapers. Just last year, Cheerilee hosted a suicide awareness day for their whole class. This, of course, did not lessen the weight of hearing about another creature ending their lives for their still youthful minds.

While the Sweetie kept heaving in as much sweet, sweet air as possible, the narrator continued on without further elaborating on this mystery fiancé. Instead, he explained how later in 1965 Cindy met another man at work while the screen cut to the two of them in a doctor’s office. With characteristic medical poster, weight scale and other standard medical items in the background, Cindy was shown looking back and smiling at a much older, balding gentleman in a doctor’s uniform. Leaning far in on the table in front and tenderly smiling back at her, the man was a 39-year-old married fellow named Roy Makepeace, who had taken an interest in his much younger student.

“Are we seriously movin’ on that quickly from the dead fiancé!?”, Apple Bloom sincerely asked as if she’d forgotten that the orb couldn’t respond.

“How is the story so casual about something like that?”, Sweetie Belle echoed the same concern.

As Roy began to tutor Cindy, the two quickly developed a sexual relationship. In 1966, Roy divorced his wife and then married Cindy in December of that year. The pair had kept their relationship secret from her parents up to this point, as understandably, when Cindy did inform them via letter, they were appalled. This did not sit well with Apple Bloom.

“Ah’m not sure if ah like this Cindy lady. So far, the biggest thing we know about her is that she’s a home wrecker.”

Apple Bloom’s suspicion against her only grew once it was detailed how a scathing letter from Cindy’s mother, which Cindy read aloud to Roy, accused him of taking advantage of her, only to later be revealed that Cindy had forged the letter herself. Roy found this behavior incredibly strange, but simply chalked it off to “melodrama” at the time.

“What? Why would she do that?”, Scootaloo pondered, wearing the most perplexed expression.

“Is this lady as crazy as Miss Rarity?”, Apple Bloom asked, earning her an extremely sour look from her little white unicorn friend.

“What is THAT supposed to mean?”

Realizing what she just said, Apple Bloom timidly bit her bottom lip and desperately tried to think of a non-offensive way of rephrasing or explaining away her prior statement. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Scootaloo picked up the conversation for her.

“Wellll… your sister is kinda a drama queen who’s got a thing for making mountains of molehills in a way that makes her the center of everypony’s attention.”, she said before continuing. “Doesn’t that sorta remind you of how this Cindy chick just created a dramatic scenario for no reason?”

Despite feeling as though she only sort of got what Scootaloo was saying, this didn’t stop Sweetie Belle from giving her retort.

“First, she’s not as bad as she used to be. Second, she just overreacts sometimes; she would never make up a tragedy just for attention…”, Sweetie paused, her scowl giving way slightly to a mask of uncertainty.

“At least, not something like that.”

Over the years, Cindy became more insular, screaming at Roy to leave her alone, even confiding to her friends that he abused her. The atmosphere around the Crusaders seemed to grow two times heavier. With the previous two stories telling of a horrid monster and a sinister conspiracy, it was unbelievable how something comparably more commonplace still managed to be more upsetting. So far, this story was turning out to be the most “intense” (for lack of a better term) one yet and it wasn’t even far into it. Roy supposedly admitted to slapping Cindy on two occasions out of frustration during their long relationship, but vehemently denied the level of abuse she accused him of.

Sweetie Belle sniffed at the screen with contempt.

“Assuming that I’m going to believe you, Roy, that’s only slightly better than what Cindy claimed.”

After sixteen years of marriage, the couple separated in 1982 and Cindy moved into her own place shortly afterwards, a big step for her since she had never lived on her own before. Supposedly, this is when the terror began to unfold. The story cut to an illustration of Cindy standing in her new home while holding to the right side of her face a black colored device consisting of a handle, a headphone like protrusion on each end, and a wire coming out from the bottom. Her face was an easily readable emoticon of concern, apprehension and fear. She began to suffer at the hands of an unknown assailant a few months after moving in, first starting on October 7th, 1982.

Apple Bloom realized that the device Cindy was holding was one of those “phones” humans use for communication when it was described how on that night she received a disturbing phone call; the others realized almost immediately after she did. From the other end of the phone, a reportedly raspy voice was said to have made obscene sexual threats towards her. If that wasn’t enough to make the three fillies’ skin crawl, the caller also knew Cindy’s name and said it repeatedly to taunt her. Over the next few days, she received more calls from the stranger. Immediately after this was said, the girls were taken aback slightly by the interjection of a small beep noise. Next, a high, raspy and possibly feminine voice that was definitely not the narrator’s began speaking.

“Cindy… Dead meat soon…”

The way the voice sounded as if it was whipering directly into each filly’s ear made all three of them give an involuntary shudder.

“Was that the actual stalker’s voice?”, Scootaloo said in a hushed tone to her friends as if she were on the phone with this stranger.

All the other two could give in response were shrugs that communicated, “Probably, but I don’t know.”

Much like the photo from the Mothman story and the looped video from the one on the Men in Black, this voice recording of the stalker ominously threatening the titular victim made this tale feel a bit too close for comfort. It was an eerie reminder that even though it hadn’t happened in their world, this was all very much real.

On one occasion after hanging up, Cindy felt as though she was being watched. She closed the curtains before the phone rang again and the caller said, “Don’t think pulling the drapes means I don’t know you’re in there.”

Sweetie was now beginning to wonder what possible connection this stalker had to Cindy; what grudge would they have against her? Also, how is this stranger able to know Cindy’s whereabouts even when they can’t see her? For their part, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo felt a little ashamed of their casting of suspicion and insensitive comment, respectively. Whatever they thought about Cindy, they could all agree that she certainly did not deserve to have her sense of safety and privacy threatened like this.

Meanwhile, that last phone call was enough to get Cindy to call the police. However, when the police visited her home on October 12th, they found nothing out of place in or around the property.

“Well then what did he-or she mean when they said that they can still see her?”, Sweetie spoke up. “Did they just guess that she’d be in the house to hear that last phone call?”

Apple Bloom would have been asking the same question, if something else wasn’t bugging her.

“What sorta grudge could this stranger have against Cindy that would make ‘em do all this?”

“I was wondering the same thing!”, Sweetie replied.

“I think it was Roy’s first wife.”

Sweetie and Apple Bloom turned to face Scootaloo, in hopes of her elaborating on what she just said.

“I mean, the voice from the phone sounded like a girl to me, so that narrows it down a bit. Plus, with Cindy taking Roy from her, Roy’s first ex has the most reason to kill her out of anyone else we’ve heard of so far.”

“That is a pretty dang solid motive, right there.”, Apple Bloom said with one hoof scratching the edge of her chin.

“And that makes for a pretty dang solid suspect!”, Sweetie Belle concurred, her eyes becoming more alight with each word that left her mouth.

Despite not finding anything, the police still recommended that she keep a diary of any strange occurrences and get an “unlisted telephone number”. Even though she did as they asked, the calls still didn’t stop. If anything, the harassment began to escalate.

“What’s an unlisted number even supposed to do?”, Scootaloo asked in a voice that expressed her confusion just as much as her face did.

“Maybe it… puts up some sort of shield around her phone that the stranger can’t get through? Or… turns the phone invisible so they can’t find it?”, Sweetie Belle visibly shrank under Apple Bloom’s deadpan stare.

“Not like any of us can really guess. None of us know these telephone thingies work.”, Apple Bloom mercifully concluded without mocking Sweetie’s obviously ridiculous guesses.

Three days later on the 15th, Cindy and her friend came to her house to find one of her windows broken and her front door slightly open. The accompanying illustration showed Cindy and her friend staring in horror at Cindy’s bed, which was covered in her pillows that were slashed into halves and leaking stuffing all over the mattress. Lying on the table next her bed was apparently some sort of door key. The narrator didn’t outright explain what door the key led to, but given the front door to Cindy’s house being open when it shouldn’t have, that probably didn’t need to be elaborated.

Apple Bloom very audibly gulped at the ominous sight before her.

“Gee, I wonder what that’s supposed to mean.”, Scootaloo stated in a tone that wasn’t quite snarky enough to be considered sarcastic, yet still had an audible sense of irony contained within.

In the days that followed, Cindy began to find notes made from magazine clippings, detailing violent threats against her. Apple Bloom found herself hung up on the mention of magazine clippings.

“Why do crooks like ta specifically use magazine clippin’s when they leave letters?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s so they can’t identify the hoof writing.”, Sweetie Belle answered.

“Well, then why not just use a typewriter?”

“Well, not everpony has one. Also, I think police have a way of tracing the typewriter a letter comes from.”

As the police became more involved in Cindy’s case, she became acquainted with an officer named Pat McBride. He made it his duty to frequently check in on her and even moved into her spare room later that month.

Snickering, Scootaloo couldn’t help but make some sort of remark.

“Is it just me or does anypony else think someone here’s a bit thirsty?”

Despite this added security, police found that Cindy’s telephone wire had been cut in early November. McBride later found a pair of wire clippers on top of his toolbox which he did not remember using.

“How the hay did that happen!?”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed.

“Yeah. That part about the clippers being on his toolbox is also pretty weird…”, Scootaloo wondered began to wonder if her initial reading on Pat McBride might have been slightly off; perhaps his motives for staying were actually more sinister than she thought.

Just when Scootaloo started feeling like she found the culprit, police found Cindy’s ex-husband, Roy, parked behind her house a month later.

“What’s he doin’ there?”, Apple Bloom asked nopony in particular.

He claimed that he was there to protect Cindy, but admitted that she had not been aware of his presence. Sweetie wasn’t sure how the others felt about that claim, but she certainly wasn’t buying it.

“Uh huh. Likely story.”

Roy asked Cindy to move back in with him, but unable to trust him, she refused. Instead, she planned to move to a new place entirely. Apple Bloom nodded sympathetically.

“Can’t say ah blame her. This is all way too suspicious.”

Just days before she was due to relocate however, Cindy’s friend, Agnes, found her collapsed on her basement stairs. The three fillies went still, even Scootaloo’s hooful of chips stopped halfway on its journey to her mouth, which was hanging open in shock. They all stared, transfixed by the image of Cindy lying unconscious in front of the stairs bleeding from the fourteen cuts all over her body.

“How did the police think that she committed suicide when she has a history of stuff like this happening to her!?”

Neither the orb nor her friends were willing to even try to give an answer to Sweetie Belle’s question at the moment. Someone else who also unwilling to answer questions was Cindy herself. When asked about the attacker, Cindy said that he didn’t see their face. However, there was a sense that she was actually withholding information. Scootaloo couldn’t believe what she just heard and gestured at the screen with her forelegs.

“Why would they think she was purposely refusing tell them anything? What motive would she have to do that?”

Apple Bloom’s eyes came alive with horror as a terrible realization occurred to her.

“This stalker might have someone Cindy loves as their hostage!”

Sweetie turned to Apple Bloom and asked, “Like her family living out of the country??”

As if it was finally answering their questions, the narrator explained that Cindy later admitted to her brother that the attacker told her that he would go after their family if she looked at him. Sweetie was positively flabbergasted at this point.

“How could this person be so powerful!?”

“I don’t know. But whoever they are, they’re sick!”, Scootaloo concluded the trio’s conversation.

Over the next year, police would intermittently set up surveillance operations on Cindy’s house, watching day and night, sometimes for weeks at a time. At no point during any of this observation did any incident occur, yet as soon as the surveillance ended, the calls and notes returned. For as much as they were disgusted by this stalker, all three fillies couldn’t help but marvel at how slippery he was.

In 1983, Cindy moved again, this time to a smaller house closer to work. She also took a vacation to escape the harassment and for a time, it seemed as though she had evaded her stalker for good. Unfortunately, after months of silence, Cindy one day returned to her job to find a note at her place of work that said, “Welcome Back”. The Crusaders barely had time to shudder before they were told something even more disturbing that Cindy suffered. In October of that year a cat was found on Cindy’s lawn, strangled to death and with note next to it reading, “You’re next…”.

Hearing this made Apple Bloom vomit a little, though she thankfully caught it in her mouth and swallowed it back down. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t much appreciate its aftertaste, so she reached for her soda bottle and took several big gulps, finally finishing the drink with a satisfied exhale. While they both found this disturbing, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle still stayed cool and listened intently. Their morbid curiosity would not allow them to miss the ways that this would possibly further escalate.

Now fearing for her life, she was introduced to Ozzie Kaban, a big name security contractor who had protected royalty, statesman and celebrities alike.

“*whistle. Impressive resume right there.”

Sweetie was inclined to agree with Scootaloo, except she was hung on that last statement’s phrasing.

“What do they mean she was now fearing for her life? She should have at least started being afraid of dying when she got attacked in her house before moving!”

Despite this security contractor’s impressive career, even he somehow couldn’t manage to protect her. One night, Ozzie was called to Cindy’s house. When he kicked open the door after his knocks didn’t receive any response, both he and the Crusaders were shocked at what they saw inside. Cindy was lying face down on the floor, unconscious; her long hair completely covered her face. A black stocking was wrapped tightly around her neck. A paring was stabbed into her right hand, pinning to it a note that said, “Now you must die”.

Apple Bloom shake herself out of the shock as something weird about the whole scenario.

“If this sick human felt it was time for Cindy ta die, then why didn’t he just kill her right there?”

By this time, Cindy had reached her breaking point and after threatening suicide, was committed to Lionsgate Hospital under a new surname. After five days, doctors decided that she was no longer a suicide risk and released her into the care of her friends and family. Sweetie Belle glumly frowned and turned to ask her friends something that made her afraid of how they would answer.

“If either of you were going through something like that for so long, would you… try to kill yourselves too?”

Both girl were visibly taken aback by their friend’s question. Yet, they quickly realized that it was best not to hesitate if they didn’t want Sweetie to worry.

“Hay no!”, Scootaloo exclaimed bluntly.

“If this was happenin’ ta meh, ah definitely wouldn’t end mah life. Cuz ah know ah could depend on y’all and mah family ta save meh looong before it’d ever come ta that!”

Apple Bloom punctuated that last statement by reaching over to pat Sweetie Belle on the shoulder. Feeling relieved by her friends’ answers, she turned back to the projected screen and reached into the chip bag. She only took out one this time. Last thing Sweetie wanted was to repeat that near death experience she had mere minutes ago.

Still, the harassment continued, causing Cindy to move once more in an attempt to escape her waking nightmare. This time she settled in Richmond. Unfortunately, things again only took a turn for the worse.

“Oh boy…”, Scootaloo stated as if to ask, “What happened this time?”

On December 5th, 1985, Cindy was found dazed in a ditch, more than six mile from her home. She was near hypothermic, wearing minimal clothing and, curiously, a large men’s work boot on one foot. She also wore a rubber glove, and had a stocking wrapped tightly around her throat.

“Again?”, Sweetie asked rhetorically, before Apple Boom joined her.

“What’s with this stalker usin’ stockings ta strangle her? Do stockings have some sorta personal meanin’ ta this guy?”

She was bruised and beaten, having suffered lacerations, a black eye, abrasions, as well as a needle mark on her inner elbow. However, these injuries were not as surprising as what had come next. After having been briefed by the Vancouver police, the Richmond police department came to the conclusion that Cindy was fabricating the assaults.

“WHAT!?!”

All three fillies cried out in perfect sync, not entirely sure if they had just heard that correctly. Rather than vocalize any more questions they had however, they instead allowed the narrator to continue for a bit longer. According to him, the police were growing tired of the constant call-outs, only to find no evidence suggesting the involvement of a third party. Regardless, her friends, Tom and Agnes, stood by Cindy and began staying overnight so she could finally get some sleep, assuming that there would be no incidents while others were present.

Sweetie Belle groaned, “You’re really gonna make us wait until the end before you explain that whole she faked those assaults ruling!?”

While the others were also annoyed by the narrator teasing them like this, their attention quickly fell onto the image the story had transitioned to. It showed what they assumed was the front of Cindy’s house, and gathering in front of it were what appeared to be large clouds of smoke. The narration described how one night in April, Cindy woke Tom saying she had heard a noise, which, incidentally, he also noticed. As the image further panned out, all three fillies finally noticed that the smoke wasn’t just gathering in front of the house, it was actually coming fromthe house.

“Oh Celestia, no!”, Sweetie Belle thought as she placed both hooves onto her head.

When Cindy and Tom had run downstairs, they discovered a fire had started in her house. They attempted to call the fire department but found that both the telephone line and the panic button Ozzie installed had been disconnected. Some witnesses claim that Cindy was calm up until the police arrived on the scene, only then did she begin crying and screaming. This sudden dramatic display not only caught onlookers off guard, the news of it also perplexed the Crusaders watching the story.

“Huh…”, Apple Bloom blankly said. She thought back to the forged letter Cindy made to her husband Roy and the suspicion that it created towards this girl. The farm filly began to wonder if she was actually a better judge of character than she had ever realized.

“OKAY! That is really suspicious!”, Scootaloo said, though it probably wasn’t necessary to point out the obvious.

Investigators concluded that Cindy was the one who most likely started the fire. However, Tom and Agnes resisted this, claiming Cindy would never endanger their lives. While Sweetie was inclined to agree with Cindy’s friends, there was a twinge of doubt in her voice when she began to speak.

“I’ll admit that this does look pretty bad, but I still can’t buy the idea that she was doing all of this the entire time. I mean, why would she?”

Early the following month, Cindy was hospitalized for extreme depression. She was then transferred to another facility better capable to care for her, where she would be psychoanalyzed. She was diagnosed with Hysteria, Paranoia, Schizophrenia, Psychopathy and Hypochondriasis.

Apple Bloom looked to her side at Sweetie Belle and said, “Well there’s a few reasons right there.”

Sweetie looked back indignantly, “Th-those are conditions, not motives! Not to mention that Princess Twilight once told me that doctors misdiagnose mental illnesses all the time.”

Scootaloo interjected, “Didn’t she tell you that after she got diagnosed with… what was it called?”

She turned to Apple Bloom, who answered with, “OCD and Neurosis.”

The two then turned back to Sweetie Belle expecting her response.

“…maybe.”, she reluctantly replied

Cindy was released after ten weeks, but the torment soon restarted. On October 26th, her panic button was pressed. She was found hogtied, naked from the waist down and choked with a stocking, halfway inside her car. She remembered nothing of how she got there.

“There’s that little stocking motif again.”, Scootaloo thought to herself.

A knot expert claimed that she could not have restrained herself in such a way, however the police dismissed this.

“Ugh. Is it me or are the police completely useless here?”, Sweetie Belle pondered.

“We probably shouldn’t be that surprised that these cops suck at their job. I mean, have you seen the royal guard? When have they ever done a good job at protecting Equestria?”, Scootaloo asked rhetorically.

Cindy’s alarm went off multiple in the following months, but little credence was given to her situation. The apparent harassment continued unabated for the next three and a half years, before things reached a tragic and horrifying conclusion. On the evening of May 25th, 1989, Agnes visited Cindy’s house for their scheduled game of bridge.

“What’s Bridge?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“It’s a game you can play with a standard deck of cards.”, Scootaloo answered

Sweetie Belle perked up slightly out of curiosity, “You think we can play it at some point while we’re here?”

“Aunt Holiday and Auntie Lofty haven’t showed me how to play. We could ask them to show us when my place is fixed back up, though.”

Agnes knocked, but heard nothing from inside the house, which immediate raised alarm bells. A search party was sent out and soon Cindy’s car was found in a nearby supermarket car park. Forensics were called, who went over the vehicle with a fine toothed comb. They discovered the freshly purchased groceries, along with the gift for her friend’s child and a receipt from depositing her paycheck at 7:58 pm that evening. They also detected the traces of blood on the driver’s side door and found contents from Cindy’s purse underneath the car. It appeared as though a kidnapping had taken place. Roy was the immediate suspect, but he had a strong alibi, leaving investigators with little to go on.

Cindy’s body was discovered two weeks later and according to the men who found her, there had been no effort made to conceal her body. This time the expert claimed that the knots could have been easily replicated by Cindy, demonstrating the technique to the police. Sweetie Belle sorely crossed her forelegs.

“Oh, so now the expert takes the police’s side now that she’s dead and can’t defend herself. How about you make up your freaking mind!”

Toxicology reports showed a lethal dosage of morphine based medicine in her bloodstream, which was “unlikely to have been ingested involuntarily” according to investigators.

“Why??? What basis does that have? How can they say that she could only ingest that much morphine on purpose? Did these blockheads even consider that someone might have forced the needle into her!?”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom both leaned back slightly, somewhat taken aback by how intensely Sweetie Belle was getting into this story that she had no personal connection to.

Meanwhile, the coroner’s report listed the cause of death as an “unknown event” and to this day nobody has been charged in connection with the death of Cindy James. Despite being listed in this way, the Police are adamant that the death was in fact a suicide. Not one shred of evidence was ever found clearly suggesting another party was involved; not a finger print, a hair or even a scrap of DNA.

“Whatever this DNA stuff is, I bet it’s the most unreliable type of evidence they have.”, Sweetie exclaimed with a false sense of confidence.

“Sweetie, will ya calm down already? Just watch, please!”, Apple Bloom complained, growing tired of her unicorn friend’s needlessly snide comments.

She didn’t say anything in response, but she seemed to concede to Apple Bloom’s demand from the looks of it; silently staring at the screen without another peep. While there was no actual evidence of another party, there were plenty of suspects. Roy Makepeace was the primary one, as he was initially accused by Cindy and her family of being her attacker. Using a hypnosis session in 1984, Cindy even recalled Roy murdering two people while on a boating trip. However, statements taken whilst under hypnosis offer very little credibility in court.

Perplexed and with one eyebrow raised, Scootaloo asked, “Is there something wrong with hypnosis?”

“Mah sister says that unless it’s by Discord or some other super powerful being, all hypnotism is a bunch a hooey.”

Moreover, Roy was found to have solid alibis for many of the assaults and calls, and was ruled out as a suspect. There was a strange man reportedly patrolling the street at the time of the fire. A neighbor confronted the man, but he ran away. Whilst this is suspicious, it is entirely possible that he was simply a curious onlooker out for a late stroll. Regardless, not nearly enough is known about him to form any kind of conclusion. The final and arguably most convincing suspect is Officer Pat McBride.

“Ah did get a strange feeling about that guy after the incident with the wire clippers.”, Apple Bloom remarked.

“That’s what I was gonna say.”, Scootaloo added.

Over the course of the events it became increasingly evident he was romantically interested in Cindy, likely forming a relationship during his time as a lodger at her house. McBride actually proposed to Cindy, but was refused. Despite this, the two remained good friends.

“What did I tell ya! This guy definitely wanted a certain something when he asked to keep watch at her place!”, Scootaloo beamed proudly as her assertions from earlier were validated.

Sweetie Belle visibly puzzled over the implications behind this before pointing one hoof towards Scootaloo and asking her a question.

“So, are you and the narrator here trying to say that this police officer did all of this as part of some weird scheme to get her to like him?”

“Bingo!”, Scootaloo pointed back. “If he got the chance to be her knight in shining armor, then he thought she’d want him for sure!”

“Well, why did the attacks not stop after she refused to marry him?”, asked Apple Bloom.

“Haven’t you heard of the saying all obsessed, lovesick psychos love to use? If I can’t have you, no one can.”

One thing that does lend credence to McBride as a suspect is the fact that he is a police officer. This would give him exact knowledge of when and how the police were observing the house, thus explaining why the attacks stopped during these times and started again as soon as the police left. Some speculate that McBride may have been using his position of power, along with others in the department, to cover up his tracks, but how credible can this really be?

“It’s absolutely credible, if you ask me!”, Scootaloo confidently stated.

The other two weren’t sure if they could agree with that, but they kept silent and allowed the story to build the case for this McBride theory or poke holes in it. Apparently, some police departments in the human world have infamous “codes of silence”. However, the narrator posits that if there were such depravity occurring, someone would have eventually blown the whistle. Other theories are far-reaching, but not without some merit and certainly not without intrigue. After analysis, it was claimed that the voice heard in all of the recorded phone calls was female.

Scootaloo smirked, ready to have yet another one of her theories from earlier, this time the theory that Rob’s first wife was the killer, validated. Except, it was instead explained how this tidbit lead some to believe that Cindy had been involved romantically with another woman. Scootaloo simply blinked in blank-faced confusion as the narrator further elaborated how people theorized that Cindy may have been secretly gay and that’s why she had trouble opening up to friends and family, as she was struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. The theory goes that shortly after separating from Roy, Cindy started a short-lived relationship with a female associate, and that this associate was there who went on to stalk her.

“Why would she need to keep the fact that she likes girls secret?”, Scootaloo finally turned to her fellow Crusaders to see if they could let her know if she was indeed missing something.

“Ah’m not sure what they’re gettin’ at either.”, Apple Bloom replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

With an apprehensive look, Sweetie Belle spoke up, “So, neither of you know?”.

Each wearing their own curious expressions, both shot back, “Know what?”

With one hoof awkwardly rubbing the back of her head, Sweetie began to explain, “It wasn’t always allowed for ponies of the same gender to love each other here in Equestria.”

“Woah! What!?”

Saying that Scootaloo was astounded would be an understatement. As somepony with two legal guardians who are a same sex couple, hearing this was like being told that the sun and moon used to rise and fall on their own.

“Wh-why’d they have a problem with that?”, Apple Bloom said, nearly matching Scootaloo’s shock and confusion.

“I don’t know. It was a long time ago, but Rarity told that whatever reason they had was never a good one.”, Sweetie Belle frown somehow grew even more depressed. “But most ponies were so uncool with it, that if you told your parents you were gay way back in those days, they apparently would disown you and kick you out of the house.”

Scootaloo stifled a gasp by placing a hoof over her mouth, before removing to ask Sweetie one more question.

“How long ago was this?”

“Umm… I think she told me that all of that pretty much died out like several hundred years ago.”, she said while rubbing her chin.

“Phew.”

Scootaloo could at least take comfort in the fact that Aunt Lofty and Holiday probably didn’t go through something like that and never telling her about it.

“So, ah guess these humans haven’t gotten pass their whole anti-gay thing yet?”, Apple Bloom wondered. “How awful.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure this takes place many years ago. Maybe they have left that behind them by now?”, Sweetie Belle said.

The secret lesbian lover theory, as with so many others, still falls victim to the fact that the investigation failed to identify a single perpetrator, male or female. Two final theories suggest that Cindy’s mental instability played a crucial role in her death. Out of the three fillies, Apple Bloom was possibly most interested in hearing this explanation, if for no other reason than to find out if she was on to something earlier.

There is a suggestion that she suffered from a disorder known as “Munchausen Syndrome”. People with this affliction compulsively create situations around themselves, often featuring physical and psychological distress in order to generate sympathy or gain attention. Some claim that Cindy was fabricating the harassment all along and that at the time of her death she was attempting to stage another abduction. However, this time it went too far and she accidentally overdosed.

Apple Bloom nodded in agreement, while the other two simply rolled their eyes and let out a pssht sound in dismissal. Despite feeling validated however, Apple Bloom also couldn’t help but feel unnerved. She wasn’t sure which was more disturbing: the idea that someone could do all of this to another person or that someone could follow a path so literally self-destructive in all sense of the word.

Finally, there is the very chilling possibility that Cindy unwittingly stalked and killed herself. None of the fillies had any idea where the story was going with that statement, but their interest was certainly piqued. Apparently, it has been suggested that she suffered from Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). It is more commonly known as multiple personality disorder, where a person’s psyche contains two or more completely different and independent personalities who each take turns controlling the physical body. During episodes where a recessive personality takes over, the sufferer may black out - completely unaware of what they are doing whilst not in control.

In Cindy’s case, her recessive personality may have been a product of her loneliness as a child, which developed an unnatural detachment and self-loathing of the body it inhabited, ultimately wanting to destroy itself. In this way, the recessive personality may have tormented and attacked Cindy’s dominant personality. This would explain her blackouts and the fact that nobody else was ever witnessed assaulting her. Throughout this entire explanation, Scootaloo had been rubbing her temples with both hooves.

“You girls having trouble following this? Cause I sure am.”

“I can’t believe this is somehow the craziest story yet, even though there’s no aliens or monsters involved!”, Sweetie Belle stated.

“So, is there a depraved murderer walking free in British Columbia to this day?”, the narrator asked.

“Wait, ah don’t remember that bein’ the name of the place. Wasn’t it suppose ta be Vancouver or Richmond or somethin’?”, Apple Bloom struggled to recall with clarity.

“Does anypony else notice that sounds almost exactly like Vanhoover?”, Scootaloo pointed out.

“What is with the similar names!?”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed.

The narrator further pondered whether Cindy James was in fact stalking herself, knowingly or otherwise? Or did the answer lie somewhere else entirely? This case is said to be one of the most talked about and divisive in recent memory with new theories coming to light even now. Despite this, the question of who killed Cindy James remains unanswered and, sadly, it seems this will likely remain so for the foreseeable future.

Often, when a case such as this receives such exposure, there can be a tendency to trivialize and factionalize events for entertainment. With that, the narrator made it a point to note that neither he nor the viewer knew Cindy James as a person, and cannot so rashly pass judgment upon her. She was a living, breathing human being, with friends and family who still mourn her death and love her to this day.

“To those closest to her, we hope all the questions surrounding this case will one day be answered. May Cindy rest in peace.”, the Narrator concluded in a manner most respectful.

Apple Bloom now remembered the concerns back at the beginning about disrespecting the dead for the sake of entertainment. She now felt glad that she didn’t have to feel guilty for watching. The writers thankfully took into account to remind everyone that these were in fact real people whose deaths had an actual impact on those around them. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that would be enough for Applejack to be okay with her watching this.

“So, your thoughts?”, Sweetie Belle asked the rest of the room.

“Ah feel like this is the reason mah sister prioritizes honesty so much. Cuz otherwise ya get cases like this that can’t be solved because no one involved is trustworthy.”

Scootaloo gave Apple Bloom a perplexed look, “Umm… not quite what I got from this, but I can see what you mean. A lot of the people were pretty shady.”

“Girls, I meant your thoughts on who did it!”, Sweetie Belle reiterated.

“Ohhh, that!”, Scootaloo said while giving her forehead a pat with her hoof. “I mean, I think we all know who it is, right?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely her ex-husband!”, Sweetie declared with confidence

“What!? No! It’s obviously that creepy cop!”, Scootaloo retorted incredulously.

“Seriously!? What makes him a better suspect than Roy?”, Sweetie Belle shot.

“Weren’t you listening to me or the story itself earlier? His connections as a police officer meant he’d know when the secret stake outs at Cindy’s would begin and end. He could call on some of his cop buddies to cover up for him.”

Scootaloo paused to recall the other point she had to raise, “Oh! And the fact that he wanted Cindy and that this whole situation just so happened to give him the chance to be her brave protector. It all just adds up!”

Sweetie merely eye rolled, “Does he also have friends in the police forces from the towns wasn’t apart of? How did he get the Richmond police who didn’t know him to cooperate?”

Sweetie might have let Scootaloo try and fail to explain that, but she just wasn’t done.

“Also, what about that time Roy was seen spying on Cindy from behind her house? You can’t tell me you ACTUALLY believed him when he said that he was just protecting her, when she didn’t even know he was there!”

“I remember them saying Roy had alibis for most of those attacks.”

“Well maybe he didn’t do them himself. Maybe he hired some sort of thug to do his dirty work for him.”

Scootaloo was not prepared for an explanation to that quickly.

“Okay. But why would he do that?”, she quickly shot back at Sweetie.

“It’s so obvious why! You even made created the motive for it earlier!”

Sweetie pointed a hoof at the orange pegasus before continuing, “Remember how you just said that the officer was trying to secretly trying to scare her into his arms at first?”

Scootaloo frantically looked away then back to Sweetie Belle as she used her own reasoning against her.

“Then when it wasn’t working, he apparently just did it to punish before finally killing her? Why wouldn’t also Roy do all that for the same reasons?”, the unicorn filly finally concluded.

“W-well, let’s just put it to a group vote, then!”, Scootaloo’s self-satisfied grin returned to her face with renewed vigor. “Go ahead, Apple Bloom. Tell her why she’s being ridiculous and that I’m obviously correct!”

Apple Bloom shifted uncomfortably under both her friends’ gaze as they expectantly waited for her to join the conversation that she wanted no part of.

Reluctantly, she began to speak up, “Ah think the both of ya are just bein’ stubborn. Sides’, y’all forgettin’ that ain’t proper to make stories out of a tragedy like this.”

“We literally just watched and listened to a story that detailed all the murder’s juicy details. Now stop copping out on us and tell us who it was!”, Sweetie Belle complained, impatient to see her own theory crowned the winner.

“Fine!”, Apple Bloom said while throwing both her forehooves in the air as an expression of aggravation and reluctant compliance.

She lowered both her hooves to cross them together over her chest before saying, “If y’all really want my humble opinion, ah think you’re both wrong.”

“What???”, Scootaloo said.

“*groan…Well, then WHO was it then? You have a better idea?”, Sweetie Belle challenged.

Apple Bloom was quiet for a moment before quickly answering, “Ah think she really did kill herself.”

“Oh come on!”

“You actually believe that?”

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both berated the farm filly upon giving her stance.

“Yes, ah believe that! Cuz it’s the only theory that explains everythin’!”

“How?”, Scootaloo and Sweetie asked in sync.

“Well, the most obvious thing is how this so-called stalker never left any evidence behind. Or was ever seen!”

The two literally hoof-waved away Apple Bloom’s point.

“Then there’s that letter from her mom that she faked.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“It proves she has that munchin’… whatever syndrome. Ah mean that’s an instance right there of her stirrin’ up drama fer sympathy n’ attention.”

Sweetie Belle was about to retort, but she paused midway before speaking when she realized she couldn’t think of anything to disprove that claim. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was not deterred.

“Not enough to prove she did it. What else you got?”

“How about the fact that this stalker took so long to kill her?”, Apple Bloom pointed out.

“So what?”, Scootaloo shrugged.

“Y’all don’t find it even a little strange that even after he stabbed that note into her hand sayin’ Now You Must Die, this guy or gal still waited another few years to finally end Cindy’s life?”

Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes whilst raising one of her brows, “Even while she was boostin’ security and puttin’ ‘em at risk of bein’ caught, they still didn’t end her like they promised before it got more dangerous for them. Almost like her death was never suppose’ ta happen.”

“Uhh…”, the pegasus filly struggled for a moment to find any holes in Apple Bloom’s point. “He just liked making her suffer! It took a long time for the sick jollies the killer got from tormenting her to run out. Big deal!”

“Okay. Then you try n’ tell me why the killer didn’t even hide Cindy’s body. Cuz the way ah see it, the explanation is that ya can’t bury a body if the one ya killed is yerself!”

Apple Bloom declared to the pegasus filly before adding, “And ya can’t tell me y’all forgot about the time she was cool as ice watchin’ her house, but then turned into a blubberin’ mess once the police showed up!

“Whatever! None of this still proves anything!”, Sweetie Belle spoke up for the first time in a while.

“Grrrrr! It’s like no matter what ah say, ya can’t hear or listen cuz ya both got yer heads stuck up yer own-“

“GIRLS! DINNER TIME!”

The frustrated farm filly’s rant was interrupted by a voice from downstairs. They all recognized it as Rarity calling them down to eat. However, Sweetie Belle wasn’t expecting to hear that at this time; it was only a little passed five, a whole earlier than when her sister typically had dinner ready. Nonetheless, they all looked at each other and wordlessly agreed to cut their argument short in favor a satisfying meal. Sweetie opened the door and one by one they all moved out of the bedroom and down the stairs, letting the ominous sounds of the storm outside fade behind them.

Author's Note

First off, I’d like to ask anyone who’s enjoying this so far to remember to click the like button. Much appreciated!

Second, I wanted to say sorry that it took so long. I’m not a fast writer to begin with and certain life changes further delayed me from finishing this. (But it’s mostly just me being a slow writer).

Third, I just want to promise that next chapter will be much shorter!

Hope this was worth the wait!

The CrossWade Interlopers

The three fillies re-entered Sweetie Belle’s bedroom without saying a word. The silence was filled by the howling winds outside and tick tack taps of the rain droplets against the window glass. Sweetie Belle herself was thinking back to the dinner they had just finished, an entire pot of standard store bought Mac & Cheese. Sweetie certainly wasn’t a picky eater by any means, but she was used to her sister serving more generous meals. Ones that were made with more time, effort and even soul on some occasions. On any other day the Mac & Cheese would probably be made with yummy string cheese, seasoned with pepper, topped with breadcrumbs and baked in the oven until it was gooey and delicious.

Still, it’s not like she was complaining, it was a perfectly fine meal. It’s just that she could tell the reason Rarity decided to go for a faster and easier dish today was because she was desperate to get back to work as quickly as possible. For the second time that night, Sweetie silently prayed that her sister, for her own sake, figures her way around this creative roadblock she’s in soon. She also thought of the 20 minutes of awkward silence that had hovered over the dinner table; it was obvious that both her friends (and herself) wanted to continue their argument right then and there.

The unicorn filly was just glad her friends kept their cool or that Rarity didn’t notice anything off about how the three of them were acting. Last thing she needed was to get scolded, then have the best instrument for passing the time taken away and the rest of their night be ruined all because they couldn’t keep it on the down low for a bit. However, that awkward silence had yet to leave now that they were back up here. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were visibly sour and cross, the former decided to head straight to the window to get a look at the stormy weather outside and the latter sat down right in front of the projecting crystal ball, folding her forelegs in front of her chest. Wanting to put that argument behind them at this point, Sweetie walked to the orb as well and lifted the pen with her magic.

“So, remind me how you chose to pick the stories again?”, she asked.

Apple Bloom merely replied with a short exhale through her nose, before uncrossing her hooves from her chest then using her right hoof to cover her eyes and the left to point straight at the projected screen.

Finally she said, “Start scrollin’”.

Doing as she was told, Sweetie Belle began scrolling up the list of stories until she reached the top. However, with Apple Bloom still not having told her to stop and having nowhere else to go, she then started scrolling downward. Down and down and down she went for quite a while until a now impatient orange pegasus filly spoke up.

“Jeez, Apple Bloom! Isn’t your hoof getting tired from holding it up that long?”, she said, now standing right behind the farm filly and the little white unicorn.

“Fine. Sweetie, you can stop.”

Sweetie Belle obliged and Apple Bloom uncovered her eyes to read the title her hoof pointed to.

The CrossWade Interlopers - A Subscriber Story

Scootaloo puzzled at the name, “What are interlopers?”

“Uhh… I think it’s someone who somehow gets involved in something that they weren’t supposed to be apart of.”

Sweetie answered before adding, “And aren’t welcome.”

“What do they mean by subscriber story?”, Apple Bloom pondered. “Does this Bedtime Stories thing work like a magazine?”

“Maybe. So, this must be a personal story one of their subscribers sent to them?”, Scootaloo suggested.

“Oh Celestia! Does this mean I accidentally subscribed to it when I clicked them!?”, Sweetie Belle panicked, placing both her fore hooves on top of her head. “My sis and my parents will kill me if either of them find out they have to pay for the stories we just saw!”

“Woah! Chill out will ya?”, Scootaloo pleaded to Sweetie.

“Sweetie, did anythin’ ya pressed have the word Subscribe on it?”, Apple Bloom asked her frazzled friend.

“Well, no-“

“Then ya probably didn’t subscribe!”

“Well then how are we watching these? Shouldn’t subscribers or ponies who pay for the issue only be able to see these?”

“For all we know Sweetie, these might be pirated versions that someone is showing everypony for free.”, Scootaloo said. “Can we please just look at the story, now? Stop assuming the worst.”

“*sigh… Fine!”

With that, Sweetie Belle used the pen held in her magic to tap the story of their choice. If they were accidentally paying for something they shouldn’t be, Sweetie could just explain that it was, in fact, accidental. She was working with alien technology, after all. How was she supposed to know that this would be coming out of her legal guardians’ wallets?

After a few seconds, the story opened on a scene set on the night of a full moon. Much of the image’s space was taken up by a large rectangular structure made out of a material that the three fillies weren’t able to deduce, mostly because the image was black and white as always. They could only tell the structure was a building thanks to the sign next to it that said CrossWade Enterprises. In front of the building stood two humans who appeared to be in the midst of conversation. Much of their features were obscured in darkness, but from their silhouettes the Crusaders could make out the shape of a peaked cap on top of both figures’ heads. Apple Bloom could also just barely make out a nightstick strapped to the hip of the taller human on the left.

“Police.”, she silently concluded.

The narrator’s introduction for the video reaffirmed this observation.

In the Spring of 2013, what seemed to be a straightforward emergency call out for two police officers, would turn out to be anything but. Not only would this experience chill them to the core, it would have them questioning their own reality for years afterwards as they tried to solve the riddle that was The CrossWade Interlopers.

“Woah. Questioning reality itself?”, Sweetie Belle said with both eye brows raised.

“What could they have seen?”, Scootaloo wondered.

Every tale they’ve seen since receiving this magical orb has been pretty freaky in one way or another. The story on the Men in Black did get them to briefly question whether they’re understanding of Equestrian history and government are correct and whether they’re heroes and families are truly what they say they are. However, the implication that this story can top that by showing them an incident capable of making them question the nature of their own reality and their entire existence… that was certainly something they’ve yet to see.

The brief moment of silence that had taken the place of the music after the intro had ended gave way to the sounds of howling winds. However, none of the Crusaders even noticed it since those exact same type of winds were currently tearing through the air just like they’d been doing all day. The opening illustration was of the human world’s favorite vehicle, a car, driving down an empty road in the middle of the night. The word POLICE was emblazoned at the top of the car’s “face” and below that was a rectangular plate with a random assortment of letter and numbers with no discernible meaning. The streaked lines that the artist had drawn behind and the sides of the vehicle reminded one of the speed at which these things were said to travel. Shining from each of the car’s two “eyes” were beams of light that, together, illuminated the road ahead.

“Huh. Nifty.”, Scootaloo thought as the narrator began speaking.

The pitch of the engine climbed higher as the vehicle picked up speed, racing along dark country roads that would have been black as pitch if not for the high beams illuminating the trees and hedgerows around them. James Havilland, who was sat in the front passenger seat, had briefly considered switching on the blues and blaring the sirens, but decided there was little point. The roads were empty and there wasn’t another vehicle for miles around.

“Wait. Ah knew Blues music is suppose’ ta be sad, but is it so depressin’ in the human world that people run away from it?”, Apple Bloom asked, confused on what kind of “blues” was supposed to make other vehicles disperse.

It was 2:21 a.m. on the 31st of March 2013 and James and his on-duty partner, Chris Braddock, who was driving, had just received a call from the CCR - or contact and control room - about a possible break-in at a remote facility out in the countryside. They were in a rural area on the outskirts of Whitehaven, a town situated in the district of Cumbria, England, about three miles from their intended destination. They would be on scene within minutes, although neither man could have known at that moment in time that this call would challenge their very understanding of reality and change their lives forever. The facility they were heading towards was owned by CrossWade Enterprises and was known locally as something of an oddity; its modern architecture stood out like a sore thumb against the otherwise beautiful and unspoiled English countryside that surrounded it. The amount of technology it boasted was also at odds with its rural setting; a highly advanced security framework, remote access and lighting control, and the latest building management systems and head-end software suites all housed within what is otherwise known in the industry as “Smart” building.

“Ah’m not even sure what half of that meant, but ah’m guessin’ that this place is even fancier than anythin’ Manehattan or Canterlot has.”, Apple Bloom asserted.

“Dang. They got actually stuff in this world’s countrysides that even blows our cities out of the water!”, Scootaloo marveled.

Sweetie Belle focused her eyes on the CrossWade facility that was now back on screen, “Wait… is it actually made out of glass?”

Scootaloo gave her friend a perplexed look, “What? Don’t be stupid. Nopony in their right minds would make a building out of something as weak as glass.”

“Ah can’t imagine livin’ in a place made outta glass. How do ya get any privacy?”, Apple Bloom added.

This building’s quiet and remote location is the last place one would expect to see something like it. Nevertheless, the building stood in silence as they arrived, shrouded in an eerie darkness that made it seem all the more out of place. The facility looked deserted; no internal lights were switched on and there were certainly no signs of a break-in. The call had come through stating that the alarm had been going off intermittently and that some of the PIR (passive infra-red) sensors had picked up on some heat signatures within the building itself. Once again, the trio of fillies found themselves puzzled at the descriptions of this alien security system, lost on what the significance was in all of this technobabble.

This information had been provided by the facilities manager who was off-site, but had remote access to the building’s security systems. Even so, the relative calm of the scene in front of them made Chris and James feel hesitant.

“They’re afraid of how quiet it is?”, Apple Bloom asked aloud.

“I’m pretty sure they’re worried that peacefulness is hiding something. They were told a break-in was happening, after all.”, Scootaloo answered, being one who recently gained experience in having a nice, peaceful evening completely turn on its head.

They parked across the road and sat in silence for a moment, observant, waiting for any kind of movement or indication of criminal activity. At one point, James thought he saw a flash of light through one of the ground floor windows, but reasoned that it could have been either a sensor, a smoke alarm or just his imagination. Over the next few minutes, nothing had happened at all. They could hear the muffled sound of wind blowing around the exterior of their car and leaves rustling in the breeze, which was somehow both peaceful and unsettling at the same time, but there was no sign of anything untoward. While the narrator had said all of this, Scootaloo had grabbed her pillow from her sleeping bag, brought it back with her to the orb and laid it down on the ground before laying herself on her back with her head resting on the pillow and facing towards the projection.

Chris and James’ attention (and the Crusaders’ attention) were drawn to the lobby when they all witnessed the light flicker on and illuminate the space inside. Suddenly, the automatic doors at the front of the building opened and shut on their own before the alarm started to sound. Each of the young girls watching either winced or cringed as the high-pitched, undulating screech pierced the air.

“Gosh, I hate this sound already! Couldn’t they have just used a bell?”, Sweetie griped.

“Shh! We’re probably about to see a burglary and police chase in action!”, Scootaloo chided from her place down on the floor.

Although startled, both men believed they had the measure of the situation; that the access system was malfunctioning and that the opening and closing doors was breaking the live circuit and setting off the alarm.

“Wait. So, no robbery?”, Scootaloo asked disappointedly.

Fortunately for the young orange pegasus, the officers’ initial assessment was immediately proven false. Just as James and Chris were about to radio back to the CCR, a figure emerged from the front entrance, then appeared to look over towards their police car before jogging off to the right around to the rear of the building. Just seconds later, another much taller figure emerged but headed around to the left instead. The trio watching were now at full attention, wishing to hear what these two intruders were up to and what they would do next.

In normal circumstances, James and Chris would have jumped out of their vehicle and scrambled after the two men, but something had given them pause. Although the figures had been distant and only silhouettes cast against the light from the lobby, there was no denying who they were. They could tell by the shapes of the caps and bulky stab vests that these two had, in fact, been police officers.

“So, there were other cops called to the place first?”, Apple Bloom wondered.

“Are these two cops chasing the burglars out of the building? But the burglars weren’t seen though.”, Sweetie puzzled within her own mind, before an incredible idea struck her.

“Unless they are the burglars!”, she said aloud this time.

“Ya mean they’re crooked cops?”

“Yeah.”

Meanwhile, Chris scanned the scene for another police car, whilst James had radioed back to dispatch asking if there was another unit on scene. The reply came back negative; Chris and James were apparently the only ones there. The only other explanation was that the other two men were security guards, but the two police officers had been under the impression that the building had no on-site security. Afterall, it was in the middle of nowhere. As the explanations the girls had given were apparently debunked, they felt just faintest bit embarrassed yet the lack of imagination they displayed. They realized they probably shouldn’t be positing such obvious explanations, especially given what the beginning of this story had promised.

“Mmmaybe they’re actually guys impersonating cops?”, Sweetie sheepishly suggested.

Something was obviously not quite right with this picture and whilst the situation was becoming confusing, things were about turn extremely weird. Just as James finished using the radio, both figures had walked back to the front and stood outside the entrance looking confused. The taller one of the two appeared to kick a pebble on the ground, which might have seemed like an insignificant action at the time, but would later prove to be pivotal in realizing the truth of the matter. This unsurprisingly puzzled each Crusader, all briefly wondering whether the narrator was playing a joke on them or not.

There was something oddly familiar about these two men and James and Chris were sure they must have known them. There was something in the way the two strangers moved and carried themselves that reminded them of someone they knew, but they could not put their finger on exactly who it was. Apple Bloom began to wonder if they’re initial reading on the situation had some truth to it afterall.

“Maybe they’re friends of theirs from the force?”, she considered.

Suddenly, both figures looked over towards the police car and began to run towards it. Even though they weren’t the one who would have to deal with them personally, the Crusaders still braced themselves for whatever these two strange men of unknown identity and unknown intentions might do. Their imagination had briefly taken over for them. James and Chris had stepped out of their vehicle and donned their caps ready to greet them, but when they looked up, the security guards or policemen or whatever they were had disappeared…

The three fillies might have said something, but their now dinner-plate sized eyes said it all.

Scootaloo gulped before finally speaking up to the other two, “Y-you think those guys might have been… ghosts?”

“Ah dunno.”, Apple Bloom answered.

All that stood before Chris and James was the dark CrossWade building, the lights had all turned off again and the alarm was no longer sounding.

“How did that happen? Is this smart building playing tricks on them or something?”, Sweetie suggested.

Both police looked left and right. They were in a wide open car park. There was nowhere these other two men could have gone. They had simply vanished into thin air. They looked at each other in stunned silence, neither man willing to speak first about what they had just witnessed. Time seemed to stand still; the wind was no longer no blowing, the leaves no longer rustling. The air had become thick and heavy as if muffled and weighted down by an inevitability that neither man was aware at that moment in time. Something about this narration made Scootaloo shudder, but she didn’t entirely know why. All she knew was that she was starting to feel like she had become the interloper, either stumbling or about to stumble into something that she was never meant to witness.

While the winds had halted where the two officers were, the already strong gusts of whistling air outside Sweetie’s window was only picking up even more; it was as if the storm was somehow trying to impose itself upon Carousel Boutique. After their initial shock had subsided, James was the first to say something and suggested that they go over and take a look at the building. Chris agreed, but there was no denying that both men felt a stab of apprehension as they made their way over the road.

“Why!? For all you know, you might actually be walking into a place that’s haunted!”, Scootaloo said from the floor as she lifted her head up slightly while expressively gesturing one hoof at the screen.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle both started chuckling. It was funny that after seeing their friend attempt to disguise or dismiss her own obvious displays of cowardice in the face of ghouls for so long, she now decided was the time to come out of the closet to reveal herself as a chicken.

“Oh come off it! If either of you are gonna actually tell me that you’d go in there after what just happened, then all that means is that I’m officially the smartest one in the room!”, Scootaloo punctuated her declaration by folding both forehooves behind her head.

The two policemen noticed as they approached the front entrance that it was completely locked down; they had to relay a request to the facilities manager in order to gain access.

“Well, then how in Tartarus did those two other guys just get out of the buildin’?”, Apple Bloom wondered.

“I’m telling you guys, it’s ghosts!”, Scootaloo stated.

Sweetie Belle looked down at the pegasus and asked, “Didn’t they imply that this place was brand new? How could somepony have died there?”

“Could be built on an old burial ground, you don’t know!”, Scootaloo defended.

As they entered the lobby, Chris walked up the stairs to the first floor, whilst James remained on the ground floor and began checking through the dark offices as the lighting system had still not activated. He found nothing out of the ordinary, but couldn’t help feeling a little spooked about what happened only moments before. The Crusaders were practically as much on edge as he was as they looked at James patrolling the empty, dark corridors with his flashlight illuminating the way. Focusing on James’ shadow trailing behind him, Scootaloo stared it like she expected it to come to life at any moment.

“Why do ah get the feelin’ this is all some sorta trap?”, Apple Bloom pondered rhetorically.

As James was walking back towards the lobby, he noticed the light flicker on. Then he heard the hiss of the automatic doors as they opened and closed before the silence was shattered once again by the sound of the alarm. Sweetie ears reflexively clamped down onto her head. She must admit that if nerve wracking was indeed what the designers of the alarm were going for, then they did a good job. James picked up the pace and noticed Chris coming down the stairs as he exited the building, fully believing that an intruder had just slipped past them. He looked over towards there vehicle and quickly scanned the car park for anyone running away, but there was no one there. His instincts told him to run around to the left of the building, as it was the quickest way to get out of sight.

“Bad idea! They’re tryin’ ta trick ya into goin’ back there! Who knows what they’re gonna do ta ya?”, Apple Bloom impotently pleaded to the officer who couldn’t hear her.

However, as he made his way around to the rear, he was confronted with a refuse area, which was surrounded by high brick walls. Thankfully, none of the fillies had to ask what a “refuse area” was with the help of the line of big garbage bins lined up against a wall that was now being shown on screen. He checked the bins inside and out and even tried to scale the wall itself, but it was just too high. There was no chance someone could have escaped this way. Returning to the front of the building, he noticed Chris walking back from the other side and they met up in front of the entrance. Once again, the Crusaders only felt more lost as yet another explanation they had posited was completely nullified.

Not for the first time that night, the officers were completely baffled by what had just happened and had contemplated radioing back to the CCR to tell them that the access and alarm systems were malfunctioning and would need to be checked over. They were reluctant to put it all down to a false alarm as they both knew that they saw two other people on the scene. Although they would have trouble explaining in their reports exactly who those men were or where they had gone. As she looked at the scene of the two visibly stumped officers standing in front of the building and voicing their confusion to one another, Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but feel that there was something familiar about all of this. It was only when Chris, James’ 6ft 6 tall partner, casually kicked a pebble on the ground whilst discussing their options that the reality of the situation came crashing down; not just on them, but also on the unicorn filly.

Sweetie’s eyes widened before she breathed out just two words

“No way.”

“What?”, Scootaloo inquired of her unicorn friend without taking her eyes off the screen.

But it couldn’t be… Surely?

James and Chris looked back towards their vehicle and sure enough, they saw two faces staring out at them from behind the widescreen, the dash lights were reflecting off their skin. And they knew in that moment, that those two faces were their own. The powerful winds outside Sweetie’s window grew even stronger; they built and built up at the same pace as the tension within all three Crusaders’ chests as they stared at the two shadowy figures sitting in the vehicle behind Chris and James. The two officers ran back towards their car and saw the doors open, but no one had stepped out. The two men inside had vanished.

“Woah.”

All three voices in the room combined to deliver that one word, all at a loss when it came to any other way to express their astonishment. Sweetie Belle looked to her right and saw that saw Scootaloo had lifted her head off the pillow and was sitting upright. She also something else was different. The increasingly violent gusts of wind outside had seemingly died down out of nowhere. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were both surprised, shocked for sure. But Scootaloo was experiencing a sensation she hadn’t felt since the Mothman story; so similar, in fact, that she once again felt her stand up on different parts of her body. Except this time, it was somehow even more all consuming. She hadn’t gotten such a sense of being powerless against the cold, unforgiving universe since that night a tree crashed into her house.

James had spent the last four years pondering on what exactly happened on the early hours of that morning. Before this, he had never encountered anything he would consider paranormal or supernatural. He was an ardent skeptic and in most cases still is, but he has no rational explanation for what occurred. He has researched online and spoken to many so-called experts, but finds that they usually have more questions than they do answers. Neither he nor Chris are certain what they experienced, whether they saw their own doppelgängers or it was a glitch in reality, where the universe slipped time and allowed them a glimpse into their own futures. Or maybe they even both temporarily lost their minds.

Apple Bloom shuttered at that last statement. This whole time slip incident was freaky enough, but the possibility that she could actually go crazy entirely without warning and no ability to prevent it made her skin crawl. Both officers were aware of how unbelievable their story sounds, which is why neither of them wrote it up in their reports. The narrator then clarified that names and details have had to be changed in order for this story to shared with the viewer. There is no CrossWade Enterprises, but there is a building somewhere out in the wilds of Cumbria which stands alone and in stark contrast to its surroundings. A building which sends a chill of the spines of at least two police officers whenever they think back on the events of that early morning all those years ago…

As the story faded to black, signifying it’s end, Apple Bloom began tapping her chin as a new thought occurred to her.

“Ah wonder if this CrossWade Enterprises, or whatever their name is, somehow caused this?”

“What do you mean?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Well, we know that they got some fancy, high-tech facility, but we don’t what they make or even do.”, Apple Bloom paused. “Who’s ta say they aren’t testin’ out some sorta time travel?”

“Wouldn’t they want to keep that secret, though? Why would they let the cops have a look at their building where all their important technology is?”

“Maybe they called them there in order to trick ‘em into bein’ part a some experiment.”, Apple Bloom face lightened slightly. “Or not, ah’m only sayin’ this while assumin’ this story isn’t a bunch a horse apples.”

“Not to interrupt you guys, but do any of you wonder how that time loop stuff works? Like, is there always a version of those two cops staking out and looking that building?”, Scootaloo spoke up suddenly.

“You mean like somewhere in the… multiverse-“, Sweetie had paused to recall that last term. “those cops’ past or… future selves are coming and leaving CrossWade forever?”

“Yeah. Does that mean that you’re technically stuck at a certain place for all eternity?”

“Ah dunno, but what ah do know is that ah wanna see another story.”, Apple Bloom said as she walked over to the orb.

Sweetie Belle joined her, taking her turn as the one to cover her eyes and choose the next story by accident. Scootaloo, however looked to her side out at the overbearing storm in the sky, focusing on the bright flashes and rumbles of the thunder and lightning.

“Sure.”, she said as she turned headed back to the crystal ball.

Author's Note

If you’re enjoying this story, remember to leave a like. Also remember to comment your thoughts down below.

Evil Under The Ice: Mysteries of the Third Reich Part One

“Aaand… stop!”

Sweetie Belle uncovered her eyes right after she gave Apple Bloom the command to stop her scrolling. As had become custom she looked upon the title her hoof had landed upon and read it out loud.

“The New York N-ook-ee: Mysteries of the Third Reech…R-Raech…?”

Her failed attempts to pronounce that last word were interrupted by Scootaloo, who pointed one hoof towards the screen as she spoke.

“Is it me or does this say part three?”

Apple Bloom moved her head in front of the screen and began speaking with the pen in her mouth.

“How th’ hay doesh thisch shtory need three perts?”

“Yeah, seems a bit much.”, Sweetie Belle commented “Buuut, I’m kind of curious to see how this Third whatever had so many secrets that it couldn’t just fit into just one single story.”

Scootaloo winced, “Do we really wanna watch a whole three parter tonight?”

“Tell you what, we can watch part one and if it sucks we can watch a different one.”, Sweetie Belle promised. “But if we all like it, we’ll end our marathon after watching all three parts and start playing some cards instead. How does that sound?”

Scootaloo considered this for a second. While she was enjoying these stories so far, she wasn’t sure how much longer she wanted to watch them in one sitting. So, she was glad that she now might have an idea of when they might finally take a break depending on how this went. And if this first part blows they can at least have a chance of picking a better one.

“Fine. But if this one sucks, I’ll also get to pick the next one without my eyes covered.”

“Alright.”, Sweetie conceded before her face shifted seamlessly into an impish leer. “But if you pick a bad one, you gotta do a dare of our choosing!”

Scootaloo flinched back only the slightest bit. She may have been a little taken by surprise, but she still didn’t want to let her friend staring her down right now know that her intimidation was actually kind of working.

She steeled herself and said, “Sure. Why not?”

“When did it get so stand-offish in here?”, Apple Bloom wondered as she finally found the desired story and clicked on it, spitting the pen onto the ground.

The other two girls got a chance to look at the title.

Evil Under The Ice: Mysteries of the Third Reich Part One

The story opened on what the Crusaders would normally have assumed was a desert with big, stony mountains acting as the mighty “castles” of a barren kingdom. Knowing the title however, it was easy to put together that these were actually glacial mountains in the middle of a snowy wasteland. The never absent and always reliable narration went on to explain how in the aftermath of World War II, the victorious allied nations dispatched numerous military expeditions to the “Antarctic” region. In his usual rhetorical fashion, he then pondered whether these battleships were there for the sake of science and exploration or they set sail in search of something far more sinister; an evil that dwelt under the ice.

“Y’know, we’ve been hearin’ an awful lot about this Second World War. Ah really hope we at least get some hint of what it was about this time.”, Apple Bloom said whilst wrinkling her nose.

“I second that!”

“Ditto.”

The girls then got a view of the icy ocean from behind two human men leaning on a metal guard rail. They were both bundled up as they looked upon a ship that was approaching them. This was obviously not like the usual wooden sail ships the girls were used to seeing. This thing had no such sail and had what looked like a smoke stack popping up in the middle of its top deck. Even in black and white, the trio could tell that at least outside was entirely metallic. It also seemed to lie lower to the waves below than any ship they had ever seen. It looked like it was peaking its metaphorical head just above the water as it creeped through the sea like some sort of mechanical crocodile.

“Huh. Looks like Twilight was right. Ironclads really are the navy’s future!”, Sweetie Belle said, recalling the demonstration of Equestria’s first metallic battleship back in June, where the cutting edge war machine sank two out of four retired Equestrian naval ships before it inexplicably broke down and had to be hauled to the docks for repairs.

No matter how many times Captain Helka and his crew spent the festive seasons scouring the waters around Antarctic Peninsula, perpetual daytime was something they never really managed to adapt to.

Scootaloo’s eyes darkened as a terrifying thought occurred to her, “Can you imagine if instead of Luna, Celestia went crazy and tried to make it daytime forever?”

“*shiver. That might actually be worse, now that ah think about it!”, Apple Bloom ran a hoof through her own mane as she spoke.

The unending periods of daytime made it considerably easier to detect the invaluable whale pods which they were desperately hunting, but it also reduced the crew into shambling, sleep-deprived zombies.

Sweetie Belle felt sorry for the poor whales. Apple Bloom once again pictured her life if it was always daytime in Equestria, it’d be exactly like those sailors. Scootaloo however, was reminded of a question she and Sweetie Belle asked of Apple Bloom last week.

“Hey, Apple Bloom. Did you ask Zecora whether or not she can actually turn dead bodies into zombies?”

Apple Bloom turned to Scootaloo and replied with a flat stare and scowl, “This again?”.

“Oh, yeah. What did she tell you?”, Sweetie chirped.

Apple Bloom’s irritation immediately became more apparent on her face, “The fact that y’all were askin’ meh ta do it instead of askin her yerselves, just shows ya know how messed up it is for ya ta ask.”

The two sheepishly looked away, with Scootaloo rubbing the back of her head while Sweetie Belle tried whistling a tune to drown out the all too familiar song that was awkward silence.

Apple Bloom turned back to the screen, but not without letting out a small huff. Unbeknownst to her two friends however, she did in fact get curious enough to actually ask Zecora whether or not she ever had raised the dead. She learned that not only was there no such as thing as raising in Zecora’s line of practice, the stories of zombies being woken from their slumber to serve the whims of their zebra masters was a myth designed by local medicine ponies to sow hate and suspicion towards traveling zebra healers/potion makers wherever they went. If that weren’t bad enough, Zecora also told Apple Bloom how she once had a friend who was executed in a foreign land under such accusations of necromancy. While she knew that the sagely zebra wasn’t intending to make her feel guilty, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but feel ashamed for opening up those old wounds. Since then, the farm filly was more than a little cross with her friends for putting that whole stupid idea in her head in the first place.

Their sleep-deprived state might have explained why the Juliana’s lookout that morning was slow to react to the vessel that was now floating just a short distance off their starboard beam. Helms had been down in his cabin, staring dejectedly at his charts, in the hope it would somehow inspire him to reverse the fortunes of what was so far a wasted journey, all the way from their native “Iceland”. Then he heard the shouting coming from up above. The whaler’s captain stood on deck along with the rest of the crew, staring helplessly across the water at the “deck gun” that was now trained on his ship. Without anything else on the approaching ship to point to, the trio could only that the “deck gun” is supposed to be weird looking canon mounted on deck.

“So, are they hijacking this ship?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Ooo. Does that mean these guys are pirates!?”, Scootaloo exclaimed with twinkles in her eyes.

Even without her infamous red and black naval ensign on display, there was no mistaking the sleek lines of a Kriegsmarine U-boat.

“Ah guess they’re not pirates then.”

“Wait, what makes you say that?”, Scootaloo pressed Apple Bloom, not having caught on.

Sweetie answered instead, “Well duh, they just said it has naval insignia. Ergo, it’s part of a navy and not a pirate ship.”

There had been stories of “German submarines” which had either failed to hear or obey the final orders to surrender. But the war had been ended for over two years now. Just what had they stumbled across?

“So these Germans were defeated two years ago and these sailors still haven’t gotten the memo?”, Sweetie reiterated the narrator’s words in utter perplexity.

“No way that’s possible with those phones humans got. So, they gotta just be refusing to give up.”, Scootaloo said.

Practically channeling her older sister, Apple Bloom stated, “These boys sure got some nerve on ‘em.”

Given the fact that these “Germans” were apparently about to hold innocent civilians hostage, Sweetie Belle was inclined to disagree with that comment about their “bravery”. Still, she was curious as to what these German people looked like. Figures in grey-green overalls were now hurrying across the deck of the “submarine”, and a short time later, two inflatables made their towards the Juliana. With no weapons on board to defend themselves and no other ships in vicinity to hear their transmissions, Helka ordered his men to line up and offer no resistance to their captors.

Sweetie felt a little pleased with herself upon hearing that her assertion from earlier that they were taking the captive was confirmed. Momentarily, she forgot to feel sorry for the fishermen who were about to have their ship and possessions stolen; but again, only momentarily. As the Germans were hauling themselves up over the railings, a figure broke away from their number and strolled enthusiastically strolled over to where Helka was standing. Looking at the pointed cap and smiling, bearded face of the U-boat captain standing to the right of the screen across from Helka, Sweetie’s expression turned a little glum.

“Oh.”, she said blankly, drawing interest from Scootaloo.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I was just kind of expecting these Germans to look different. Like an entirely different species, I mean. Instead, it’s just humans from another country.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow and joined in, “Yeah. It is mite weird that we haven’t seen any other species of civilized critters from this world.”

“Did something happen to the rest of them?”, Scootaloo wondered.

The U-boat captain cheerfully apologized for the disruption, asking if it would be possible for him and his crew to purchase half of the remaining supplies aboard the whaling ship. Despite his affable and polite nature, there was a tone to the submariner’s request which led Helka to believe that refusal on his part would be unwise. He noted uneasily that each German sailor was armed with either a pistol(?) or carbine(?), so he reluctantly agreed to the proposal. He was immediately handed a thick roll of US dollars(?) and was advised that their should be enough left over for each member of the crew to receive a small bonus for their troubles.

“Huh… sounds like the kindest hijackin’ ever.”, Apple Bloom commented.

“Or it’s actually not a hijacking?”, Scootaloo suggested.

Knowing that without either the ship or the supplies being commandeered without any compensation, Sweetie had to concede that this wasn’t technically a hijacking as most ponies would conceive it. Even considering the implied coercion involved.

“Okay, but what do you call it?”, she asked.

“Weird is what ya call it. Really weird.”, Apple Bloom answered, her anxiousness about discovering this captain’s true intentions apparent in her voice.

As the submarine commander later turned to leave, he paused and asked Helka to bring one of his charts up from his cabin. Once Helka brought him the map, the German U-boat captain then marked down a location not too far away and advised that there was a large school of humpback whales to be found there before saluting and disappearing back over the side of the ship. The Icelandic crew watched in bewilderment as the submarine turned away and then slowly made its way off into the distance, never to be seen again.

“Ah would be afraid ta see how things woulda turned out if he told that German sailor no.”

“Gee, you don’t say, Apple Bloom?”, Sweetie Belle dryly replied with an eye roll.

Apple Bloom ignored her and continued, “Still, ah can’t wait ta find out what they were tryin’ ta hide from those fishers.”

“It has to be some kind of secret treasure, right? I mean, they’ve got cash for days from the sound of it!”, Scootaloo exclaimed.

While the pegasus filly fantasized about diving into a secret pool of Bits that these Germans were hiding underneath the ice, the narrator cut to a human naval captain in a white uniform and pointed cap standing in front flotilla of US ships set off from the naval base of Norfolk, Virginia on December 2nd, 1946.

“Wait, like West Virginia???”, Sweetie Belle noticed.

The expedition was designated “Operation Highjump” and consisted of thirteen vessels, including the “aircraft carrier” USS Phillipine Sea, as well as the “destroyers” USS Henderson and USS Brownson. They had been ordered to make their way deep into the desolation of the Antarctic circle, in order to conduct a series of military drills and scientific experiments. In charge of the operation was Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd Jr., a seasoned polar explorer who had carried out a number of civilian and military explorations into the Antarctic. Looking at the the focused, determined gaze and the shiny medals draped across his chest, the Crusaders but admire the work the artist put into conveying this admiral’s impressive aura.

“Dang, those medals look shiny!”, Scootaloo awed.

“Am ah the only one thinkin’ back ta Cadence n’ Shinin’ Armour’s wedding night when we snuck into Shinin’s quarters ta check out his fancy Royal Guard armor?”

Accepting the farm filly’s invitation for a trip down memory lane, Sweetie Belle said, “I don’t get what everypony was freaking out about! We only left a tiny dent, it couldn’t have been bigger than my hoof!”

She lifted her hoof up in the air, then sheepishly put it back down when she saw how much bigger her hoof had become since the wedding, in a way undercutting her point.

“And remember how Shining fainted when he saw that dent?”, Scootaloo recalled. “Sheesh! What was up with that?”

Looking up in the air and tapping a hoof to her chin, Apple Bloom said, “Ah remember hearin’ somethin’ about Shinin’ havin’ a flashback to the last time his drill sergeant found his armor in bad condition back when he was in military academy. Musta gotten one nasty punishment.”

When the Task Force eventually arrived at its destination, it immediately began to conduct extensive photo-reconnaissance operations of the area but would subsequently be recalled due to reports of dangerous weather conditions. Soon after the ships which had taken part in the operation returned to their respective home ports, rumors and stories about what had really happened began to circulate. Newspaper articles in the “Chilean” media claimed that the US fleet had been attacked by unidentified flying craft that had inflicted heavy casualties, forcing the Americans to withdraw. Upon hearing this, all three Crusaders perked up visibly, sensing that the interesting part of the story was on its way. Speculation was only fueled when during a television interview about the mission, Admiral Byrd made a number of significant comments about America having to prepare herself for future attacks that might emanate from Antarctica.

“I hope Princess America boosted her security after getting that news!”, Sweetie Belle said.

“Sweetie, that’s not-“, Apple Bloom paused, deciding not to even bother.

He specifically referred to the risk aircraft attacking the United States having come from the South Pole, and that he and his countrymen could no longer rely on their distance from other hostile nations as a means of defending themselves. Almost immediately, a follow-up mission to the remote region was authorized, codenamed Operation Windmill, which was concluded in April of 1948. After this, American interest in the region seemed to wane, until the decision over a decade later to detonate three “nuclear devices” there.

“Woah! Detonate!?”, Sweetie exclaimed.

Scootaloo was a little taken aback by her friend’s over the top reaction, “What’s that mean? Cause you’re making it sound like their blowing the place up or something.”

“That is what it means!”

“…oh.”, Scootaloo stated, completely at a loss for more words for a moment until she followed up with, “Damn.”

The rationale for this action was to test the effects of high-altitude nuclear explosions in the Earth’s upper atmosphere.

“Whatever that means.”, Apple Bloom silently added, though the mention of atmosphere made her guess that it meant that they were setting off explosives high in the sky.

However, her confusion was soon giving way to a growing sense of impatience. Same could be said for the other two fillies. When was the story gonna finally show this weird aircraft that it was talking about? And how is this going to tie back to those creepy German sailors from earlier? Thankfully, they wouldn’t have to wait too much longer for their desired payoff.

It is possible that America’s brief fascination with the southern polar region might have ultimately been forgotten, had it not been for the publication in 1991 of a “Soviet-era” intelligence report, which offered a very different reason for the untimely conclusion of Operation Highjump.

“Yeah, why did Princess America suddenly get so interested in an icy wasteland, then chose to blow it up and thenntotally forget about it?”, Scootaloo pondered.

“She sounds like she’s either really fickle or just a little off her rocker.”, Sweetie Belle added.

Apple Bloom stopped herself from speaking up, “Nope! Don’t bother sayin’ anythin’! If they ain’t figured it out before the end of the story, you’ll tell ‘em then.”

Allegedly compiled from transcripts of interviews between “KGB agents” and a handful of US sailors who were involved in the expedition, the leaked dossier suggested that the American fleet had been driven from Antarctica by an unknown hostile power. The report details that by mid February of 1947, the American ships were making their way through the Weddell Sea, when the USS Brownson became aware of unknown aircraft shadowing her movements. Initially these were described as fast-moving lights in the far distance, but as they began to venture closer and closer, contacts also began to register on the Brownson’s radar screens. The story faded away from the Soviet officer tapping away at typewriter and then transitioned to an illustration so much more exciting by comparison that each Crusader’s mouth hung open slightly.

In view were three of the human’s metallic battleships off the shore from several icy, imposing mountains. Zooming across the sky right above them, with actual motion this time, was a flying saucer. His back turned to the viewer, a sailor looked out at all of this with both of hands held right over his head in what was either an expression of utter shock or an attempt to shield his skull. According to the narrator, what was in fact five of an unspecified number of craft started to overfly the fleet of US ships at a low altitude as the ships had closed up together. They dodged and weaved in and out of the tightly packed American vessels at breakneck speeds; indeed were now seeing more than one saucer zipping all over the screen with speeds unlike anything seen in Equestria if one doesn’t count Rainbow Dash.

“Hold on! Ah thought this was suppose’ ta be about the Germans, why’s there an alien spaceship?”, Apple Bloom puzzled, her initial question were followed up by Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo respectively.

“Are they saying the Germans actually made that?”

“Or were the Germans actually aliens the whole time!?”

Deeming their actions hostile, Captain Gimber ordered the Brownson’s gunners to target the attackers, the destroyer immediately opening fire using its 40mm anti-aircraft cannons. The witnesses testified that as soon as the Brownson opened fire, the strange saucer-shaped craft retaliated with incredible beams of light and heat. As fighter aircraft had been scrambling to launch from the deck of the USS Casablanca, they had been burned out of the sky, their airframes and crews reduced to little more than ash by the advanced enemy weaponry. All three fillies sat in awe of the Americans’ metallic flying machines crashing down into the ocean; all accompanied by a soundtrack of indiscernible buzzing, booms and strange ratatatat sounds.

The biggest takeaway for the trio was how losing side’s aircraft with it’s stiff wings and rotary tails were definitely far more advanced than anything Equestria had. Yet here they were getting absolutely demolished by these saucers. Each of them trembled to imagine the destruction these flying saucers would bring to Equestria if they invaded. They even dared wonder if the Elements of Harmony would even give them a chance against a foe this powerful. Return fire from the Americans proved relatively ineffective, due to the superior speed and maneuverability of the attackers, but whilst the battle had progressed, there was some success. As one of the mysterious craft passed over the USS Sennet, a lucky shot from the submarine’s deck gun caught it, the five-inch shell sending the flying machine spinning wildly off to one side. The downed aircraft had detonated violently as it impacted on the water’s surface, but then there was another greater explosion.

Apple Bloom’s face lightened up slightly with hope, “Huh. Maybe the Elements of Harmony could stand up to these things?”

The USS Maddox, a destroyer attached to the Task Force, had sustained serious damage as a result of the relentless attack, including a fire that had fatally spread to her magazines. The resulting explosion killed all those onboard and sent the stricken vessel to the sea floor. Realizing they were outmatched, the Americans would spend the next few days retreating out of the area whilst being continually harassed by the unknown attackers.

“I dunno, Apple Bloom. These guys were lucky to get out alive. Do we have that good of a chance even with the Elements?”

Surprised to hear this from Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle turned to her and asked, “You of all ponies don’t even have faith in the Elements of Harmony, which Rainbow Dash has always been apart of?”

Reeling back upon realizing her own blasphemy, Scootaloo began correcting herself, “I-I didn’t say it was impossible, though!”

The writer of the report ended by speculating that the subsequent US mission to the region had also failed to defeat the forces that had been ranged against them, and that the Americans eventually resorted to nuclear weapons in a final bid to defeat their mysterious opponent.

Sweetie vocalized something that had been bothering her for much of the video.

“What’s nuclear supposed to even mean?”

“Dang it! I was hopin’ y’all would be able ta explain that one.”, Apple Bloom groaned.

The soviet document was seized upon by commentators and conspiracy theorists the world over as evidence that there was something sinister lurking within the safety of the South Pole. For some it was the definitive proof that aliens lived and walked among us. To others, this was the last bastion “Nazi” resistance to have survived the Second World War.

“Wait, does this mean the Germans are aliens or not?”, Scootaloo asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Ah think it means they’re not. Why would they talk about aliens as somethin’ so mysterious if they were suppose’ ta already have fought a whole war against ‘em? Twice!”

While Apple Bloom was busy making her point, Sweetie was wondering about that one unfamiliar term the narrator casually let out. What is a “Nazi”? Was it supposed to be another word for German? A derogatory one even?

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t just say ‘German’ resistance?”, she posited in her head.

The narrator went on to explain how there were those who believed that the answer was actually a combination of both theories. As “Hitler’s” fugitive forces utilized alien technology they had uncovered to build a glorious Fourth Reich (Rike) underneath the ice caps.

“Ohh. So, that’s how it’s pronounced!”

In contrast to Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom had a bigger question about that word which still had yet to be answered.

“Forget how it’s said. Why can’t we at least get a little hoofnote at the bottom tellin’ us what a Reich is?”

“Oh well. At least they just gave away who the German’s king was… I think?”, Scootaloo said uncertainly, focusing on the mention of someone named Hitler who was suggested to be the one in charge of the German forces.

Even from just a cursory inspection, its evident that there are glaring errors contained within the Soviet report that act to undermine its credibility, but then, this is perhaps unsurprising. Each Crusader adopted an expression that was their own flavor of perplexed; they wondered whether the narrator was implying that these “Soviets” were dumb or they were liars. Apple Bloom herself wondered if she could call that sentiment xenophobic or not, assuming these Soviets were supposed to be another nation or people.

The narrator continued on explaining how material produced by “Russian” intelligence staff during the “Communist” era are typified by the need to create what the author’s masters wanted to hear, rather than a more truthful representation of the actual events. For example, repeated references are made to the USS Casablanca, an aircraft carrier which did not sail with the Highjump flotilla and was instead aid up in Norfolk awaiting its decommission during the expedition.

Apple Bloom felt relieved, “Ah guess their just sayin’ the Soviet rulers are liars, not the citizens.”

“I don’t know why we didn’t talk about this sooner, but can you believe that apparently have ships that are made just to carry their flying machines!?”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with imagination.

“Yeah, that might’ve been real helpful for keeping the Storm King’s airships away from Canterlot.”, Scootaloo said, recalling her unpleasant experience of being held captive in a cage with her friends at the hooves of Tempest Shadow.

It is possible that over time, the witnesses have confused the Casablanca with the USS Currituck, but then there is the issue of the alleged sinking of the USS Maddox. Again, the Maddox did not play a part in the Antarctic mission. Two destroyers by that name were constructed by the US navy during the Second World War. The first was sunk by German dive bombers during the invasion of Italy in 1944. It’s namesake also saw active service during the conflict and also went on to participate in the Vietnam War, where it was involved in the infamous “Gulf of Tonkin Incident”, but neither would have been in the Antarctic during the winter of 1947.

“Who do you think is telling the truth, the Americans or the Soviets?”, Scootaloo asked the other two.

“I mean, these contradictions could be proof that Princess America is trying to cover up how her navy was destroyed by flying saucers!”

*siiiiggghhhh

Hearing a loud sigh immediately after she had made her point, Sweetie Belle turned to and questioned the source of the noise.

“Something wrong, Apple Bloom?”

“Nothin’.”

Finally, the references to American fighter aircraft being destroyed and mass casualties having been inflicted by the attackers is strongly contradicted by the official Highjump diaries. In total, the expedition is reported to have sustained four fatalities during its time in the Antarctic.

“Well, that’s kinda lame by comparison.”, Scootaloo said, before receiving a smack upside the head from Apple Bloom.

“OW!”, exclaimed the pegasus filly.

“Scoots, we should be glad that less humans died!”, Apple Bloom scolded.

After getting over her anger, Scootaloo rubbed the back of her head, not just cause of the pain, but also partially out of her embarrassment at her own moment of callousness; it was indeed easy to forget that these stories supposedly involved real people.

She smiled sheepishly in a manner intended to be apologetic before simply saying, “Oops.”

Three men perished when their “PBM Mariner” crashed in poor weather conditions. A further sailor was crushed during an accident whilst unloading scientific equipment onto the ice. If one were to buy into the Soviet narrative at all, then there are two possible explanations for these inaccuracies. The first is that it was an exercise in disinformation, designed by the United States to draw out traitors in their ranks and deliberately confuse their enemy.

“So they’re saying the United States, or the Americans I guess, didn’t get along with the Soviets?”, Sweetie Belle guessed.

The second is that the incident was indeed genuine and that the American government used the fear and paranoia of the Cold War to suppress all trace of it, with national security acting as the justification.

“Yeah, the narrator gets it! The Americans might be the ones covering stuff up.”, Sweetie said pridefully.

“Is the Cold War supposed to be like the name for their war against Antarctica?”, Scootaloo wondered.

“That’d be weird if it were. Ah thought these were suppose’ ta be some secret one off battles. Plus, they made this Antarctica place out ta be an empty wasteland. How do ya declare war on a place like that?”

Scootaloo wasn’t sure whether she wanted to accept Apple Bloom’s point.

“Well then what else would they mean when they say Cold War?”

“Maybe, it’s actually a war between a bunch of countries over who gets to conquer Antarctica?”, Sweetie Belle suggested.

“Why would anypony want it though?”

Deciding to further elaborate Scootaloo’s point for her, Apple Bloom said, “Yeah, from what we saw, it looks like Anatarctica really sucks.”

So, is it simple enough to write off the Russian account as a work of mere fiction? Perhaps, but it is apparent that something unexpected did occur which forced the Highjump expedition to conclude suddenly ahead of schedule. Also worth considering are the cryptic comments by Rear Admiral Byrd about America suddenly having much more to fear from possible attackers emanating from that region. It is of course easy to dismiss the fantastic conspiracy theories of a sprawling Nazi stronghold, hidden inside gigantic geothermal vents that were discovered underneath the ice. But the fact remains that one of Hitler’s many aims was the establishment of a presence for the Third Reich in all of the world’s far-flung regions, a goal in which he would invest significant time and effort.

In 1938, a German freighter named the MS Schwabenland set sail from its home port of Hamburg and made its way down through the south Atlantic towards the South Pole. The ship was carrying two “Dornier seaplanes” that had been fitted out with skis, which would allow the crew to land on the ice. The mission was commanded by a famed German explorer, named Alfred Ritscher. The German expedition eventually made landfall in an area known as the “Princess Martha Coast”, which had previously been claimed by the “Norwegian” government. They immediately renamed it “New Schwabenland”, establishing a permanent research station for their scientists to work from, and carrying out numerous aerial reconnaissance missions of the area surrounding their encampment.

“I have a feeling these Germans might have been the bad guys of that Second World War.”, Scootaloo said.

While Apple Bloom was usually against making such rash judgments about an entire race, but the penchant for conquering and taking others’ lands these Germans were displaying was rubbing her the wrong way. She could at least say that under this “Hitler” guy, the Germans might have been pretty antagonistic. Ritscher and his crew would return to Hamburg six months later and would immediately begin plans for another trip back to the area. However, official records indicate that this second expedition never took place, as the outbreak of World War Two prevented them from being able to pull to together the manpower and resources they would have needed.

It is clear though, that the German government did succeed in conducting further undocumented forays into the polar regions. As recently as 2014, the remains of an abandoned naval outpost, previously unknown, was discovered on the island of Alexandra Land, near the North Pole. It’s rusting bunkers and Nazi flags provided damning evidence that there is still much that is not known about Adolf Hitler and his secretive ambitions.

“This almost reminds me of how the whole Crystal Empire up in the frozen North disappeared for a long time before it suddenly showed up again.”, Sweetie Belle noted.

Captain Helka’s alleged encounter with a German submarine in early 1947 has largely been dismissed as a fantasy, yet it remains far from an impossibility. Of the hundred and fifty or so large vessels that have historically vanished without a trace from the world’s oceans and remain missing to this day, a significant number are German U-Boats. A thousand of these submarines were put to sea during the Second World War, with over twenty still unaccounted for, their fates and final resting places a complete mystery.

Fading away from the image of the submarine slowly submerging itself into the icy waters, the story then cut to a human in a peaked cap admiring a flying saucer, presumably of his creation, on the ground in front of him. Except this one had a cannon at the top, wheels at the bottom and a black and white cross symbol in a similar shape to one seen at hospitals. The narrator then told of how well documented it was that Luftwaffe engineers did successfully create aircraft using technology considered revolutionary for their time, and that some of these prototypes did resemble what has come to be accepted as the classic outline of a flying saucer.

“Luftwaffe… luftwaffe… luftwaffe…”

“Why do you keep repeating that word?”, Sweetie Belle interrupted Scootaloo’s muttering before it would eventually start getting on her nerves.

The pegasus simply replied with, “It’s fun to say.”

The most well-known of these prototypes was the “Haunebu”, which supposedly only managed a couple of test flights before the bases it was operating from were overrun by occupying forces in the dying days of the war. There is supposedly little doubt that, given time, the Germans might have been able to turn the tide of battle, and that they might not have required extra-terrestrial technology to do so. Afterall, German science, technology and engineering were instrumental in breaking the sound barrier, producing the first working long-range ballistic missiles, and the earliest example of a stealth aircraft.

“Ah wonder if there’s anythin’ in our science textbooks that could teach us what’s so cool about all that jargon.”

A year before, Apple Bloom would have instead asked Twilight what all of that had meant. However, now that she was Equestria’s sole sovereign, she was way too difficult to get a hold of, even on the few times a year she was in Ponyville.

The Haunebu was not powered by “Martian” technology, but was allegedly one huge turbine engine, housed within a circular airframe. It was said to be capable of speed and maneuverability unrivaled for its era, and it’s terrifying to think of the losses it might have inflicted on the allied powers given even just a few further months of experimentation. Once the more fantastic and outlandish elements of the Operation Highjump saga are stripped away, what should easily be dismissed as a creative piece of science fiction does seem to contain a concerning amount of substance. It is uncomfortably apparent that the military might of the United States did encounter something unexpected during its post-war exploration of the South Pole. Something they felt the need to repeatedly confront and even resort to nuclear warfare in order to vanquish it. Whether this force was extra-terrestrial in nature or was instead born out of the darkest crimes in human history, may never officially be known.

The trio of fillies all felt a bit taken aback by that last suggestion.

“Okay, who ARE these Germans? Or Nazis, or whatever? What did they do?”, Sweetie Belle asked aloud.

“They make this Hitler feller sound as evil as Sombra!”, Apple Bloom stated.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes before replying, “Apple Bloom, come on. We all know Chrysalis is the most evil pony in all of Equestria.”

Apple Bloom pointed a hoof at the pegasus filly, “Ah’d like ta see ya get mind controlled by that shadowy tyrant and still come out with the same opinion.”

“What are you talking about? I was in Ponyville when he took over! Me and Sweetie Belle were both brainwashed too.”

Before Apple Bloom could give another retort, Sweetie Belle butted in.

“Will you two keep it down? It’s almost over.”

Sweetie had another point to make, but rather than share it with other two she kept it to herself.

“Besides, we all know Cozy Glow is the worst of them all.”

The narrator concluded by declaring that more time must be given to see what other evidence may be uncovered, as human exploration of the Antarctic region continues. Who knows what abandoned settlements and sunken vessels lie waiting to be discovered, perfectly preserved underneath the polar ice?

The story left the viewer with a view of the harsh and unforgiving, yet enigmatic icy landscape of the South Pole before fading to black. Sweetie Belle took this as her cue to start scrolling for the next part. Scootaloo felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to risk taking a dare by choosing the next video.

“Thank Celestia, we all enjoyed that one.”

“Ah feel like we haven’t given credit to the artist for these stories yet.”, Apple Bloom suddenly said.

Sweetie Belle stopped scrolling to concur with that sentiment.

“Yeah. It was really top-notch this time. Whoever they are, that artist is incredible!”

“Hey, I just realized something.”, Scootaloo interjected. “If these stories about those Germans being the inventors of the flying saucer are true, does that mean that whenever somepony in our world sees one in the sky, it’s actually the Germans in those spaceships?”

“Wait, so ya think the aliens who may or may not be visitin’ out planet are these German humans?”, Apple Bloom reiterated.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”, Apple Bloom put a hoof to her chin. “Ya think ah should maybe ask mah sister ta tell Twilight ta boost Equestria’s security in case aliens try ta invade. Ah mean, these Germans don’t seem very friendly after all…”

“They’re probably not the ones visiting us.”, Sweetie Belle assured. “These humans are supposed to be from another dimension, remember? Not from another planet in our universe. I doubt they can fit their ships through the mirror portal.”

With that, Sweetie stopped scrolling as she found the second part she was looking for and read the title.

For Whom The Bell Tolls: Mysteries of the Third Reich Part Two

For Whom The Bell Tolls: Mysteries of the Third Reich Part Two

All three Crusaders were visibly puzzled by the story’s opening illustration. Illuminated with what appeared to be two spotlights shining from their own corners at the top of the room, a strange and massive bell-shaped machine stood in the center of some sort of laboratory or warehouse. If one were to ask them to guess what this thing was even for, they probably wouldn’t even know where to begin, truly it was a device that didn’t belong anywhere except science fiction. Besides the shape, it’s strangest feature was the bright lens or disk placed in its center; with a little imagination, one could almost call it an eye that was intently analyzing the viewer.

The narrator began explaining how the “German war machine’s” efforts to turn the tide of the conflict in its favor gave way to numerous tales involving advanced and dangerous weaponry. However, amidst the rumors of alien technology and paranormal experimentation, one story in particular stands out. A tale of a mysterious machine, the ultimate purpose of which remains an enduring enigma. What was Die Glocke?

“Ah wonder, is this German war machine supposed ta be their leader?”

As Apple Bloom said this, for whatever reason, she automatically became fascinated by the idea that these Germans were some sort of machine worshippers. Her mind pictured a large gathering of humans surrounding and bowing before the large, bell-shaped machine. Her daydreaming was interrupted almost as soon as it began once Scootaloo responded.

“But I thought that Hitler guy was supposed to be the King?”

“Well, what else is the German war machine suppose’ ta be? Think it might be their top general at least?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a cooler way of describing the German military.”, Sweetie Belle answered.

After the ever familiar intro had finished, the girls were shown an image of a human wearing a strange-looking helmet that covered his ears and wielding an unfamiliar, elongated instrument in his hands. Something about the way he stood outside the barbed wire told the trio that he was guarding the building that was on the other side, whose front had sort of an apple-slice shape in Apple Bloom’s eyes. This building was apparently a testing facility situated a short distance away from the “Czechoslovakian” border; it was known to its inhabitants as “Der Riese”, which translates to the “The Giant”. The soldiers stationed there had little knowledge about what the scientists in charge were working on, other than that it was rumored to possess the potential to turn the tide of the war. The soldiers were both well-equipped and provisioned, to a higher standard than much of the Wehrmacht but few of them had seen active service.

“Is that really how Germans pronounce their W’s? How do you get a V sound out of that?”, Sweetie Belle puzzled.

“That’s another fun word these Germans got. I mean, say out it loud if you wanna get what I mean.”

Apple Bloom tried to do as Scootaloo suggested.

“Vaaair-macked…?”

Scootaloo visibly cringed as the word left Apple Bloom’s mouth. The way it was mispronounced and butchered in the farm filly’s country accent really sucked the cool out of it.

“Never mind.”

Most of the soldiers on site had spent much of their short military careers protecting secret projects such as this. The sound of the artillery fire that was gradually creeping closer and closer was causing them no small amount of anxiety. The Crusaders for a second got a taste of that anxiety when they heard some distant booms from outside. Thankfully, they quickly realized that sound wasn’t canons like they thought, but was just the sounds of thunder that had been popping in and out of their evening.

“With how all these lightning strikes have been timed, you have to wonder if the weather team is secretly screwing with us.”, Scootaloo grumbled as she turned back to the orb.

“It’s amazing that we keep forgetting about the storm outside.”

While Sweetie Belle finished that last remark, the narrator detailed how the scientists went about their work in a deliberate and methodical fashion behind the perimeters of overlapping barbed-wire fences and reinforced concrete machine-gun nests. Their concerns over the approaching Russians was only secondary. Wanting to understand the humans’ Second World War, Apple Bloom had been trying to keep track of these countries relationships to one another. It was then that she noticed one thing the Soviets and Americans had in common: they apparently both fought the Germans.

“Wait, so does that mean the Russians n’ Americans were fighting on the same side in World War Two? They made it seem like in they were enemies in the first part, though.”

Meanwhile, the scientists were apparently working with highly volatile materials that bore a far greater threat to their lives if mishandled than any advancing army. Inside the main hangar of the testing facility, new test subjects were ushered into a room with the massive bell-shaped machine, which had a guard standing on either side of it this time. They were referred to by those in charge as “volunteers”, but in reality, the only reason they were here was because the alternative would have been a long crop from the end of a short rope. Few things in life motivated an individual more than the prospect of a death sentence.

At the mention of hanging, Sweetie Belle began unconsciously rubbing around her own throat. As someone who wasn’t around forty years ago when Equestria still had capital punishment, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but find these German’s practice of threatening prisoners with death unless they participated in a potentially lethal experiment barbaric. Scootaloo, for her part, had more mixed feelings on the matter.

“I mean, how bad were these guys’ crimes? Cause if these guys really do deserve death anyway, then maybe this experiment isn’t so wrong.”, she thought with an uncharacteristically low amount of confidence in her reasoning.

Once the last of the test subjects were ushered in, the guards retreated, locking the doors behind them as they withdrew. High up above, in the viewing platform, the assembled scientists and military officers looked on dispassionately as the small throng of men made their way through the sprawling interior towards odd-looking bell-shaped object in the center. Momentarily, a technician threw the switch, which activated a nearby power source and after a few moments, a faint thrumming noise could be heard coming from inside the strange object. The men standing close to it glanced nervously at one another as the sound began to grow in both volume and intensity. From their elevated position, the observers noticed the air immediately around the object begin to shimmer and blur.

The Crusaders found themselves straitening in attention and leaning forward as they heard how one of the volunteers suddenly dropped to the floor, his legs buckling beneath him. He had made no sound as he had fallen, but his collapse caused the others to cry out in a mixture of fear and surprise. All three fillies then winced as the orb played the cries of these men, except they sounded not like screams of fear, but ones of sheer agony. This seemed to be confirmed by the screen showing one man howling to the heavens above while another was appeared to be clasping onto his own head as if something was trying to burst from it.

It was described how some of the test subjects began backing away from the object, whilst others bolted back towards the doors. The incessant vibrations had continued to increase, and more of the panicked men began to stumble and fall. After a few minutes, it was all over, with the last of the test subjects now lying motionless on the ground. The trio of fillies gawked at the grim sight of the volunteers’ bodies laying in the puddles of their own blood. Of course, none of them had a clue on what even just happened; the subjects were let into the chamber, the strange bell-shaped machine was activated, then the men all screamed in agony and the next moment they were all inexplicably dead. They could at least tell that the machine itself caused this, that much was obvious.

The signal to cut the power was given and the deafening hum began to subside. As the soldiers re-entered the hangar and set about recovering the liquefied bodies that now lay scattered around, several technicians in white lab coats made their way directly towards the object. A glass cylinder of dark red fluid was removed from inside and whisked away for further analysis. They considered the results of the experiment to be mixed. Hearing this caused Apple Bloom to snap out of her shock and slipped into outrage, inspiring her to verbally snap at the screen.

“What? They ain’t died painfully ‘nuff for yer tastes?”

While Apple Bloom remained rightfully appalled, the other two fillies grew confused as the narrator described how despite obtaining the desired results, the scientists found the efforts to enhance the object’s “external shielding” to be far from sufficient. They were being given the impression that this was supposed to be either an offensive super weapon or a torture device, so why were these technicians concerned about whether it could provide defensive capabilities? Despite their disappointment, the men conducting the experiment found this to be of little consequence. More materials would be found. More volunteers would be delivered. And, as they believed, the Reich would be victorious.

Testimony relating to the mysterious device known as “Die Glocke”, or “The Bell”, first surfaced in the “Polish” media in 2000, after a journalist named Igor Witkowski published a book detailing his investigation into the secretive experiment.

“Hmmm, didn’t we once try to write a book to get cutie marks in literature?”, Sweetie Belle said with a stroke of chin.

“Yeah, we did!”, Apple Bloom’s eyes twinkled with reminiscence before quickly being replaced with befuddlement. “Why did we give up on that one so quickly?”

“None of us wanted to write a whole novel by ourselves, but we also couldn’t agree on the story we wanted to write about together.”, Scootaloo explained.

Even though her tone was mostly casual and dispassionate, Scootaloo was secretly disguising the anger she had been holding onto since that afternoon from long ago where they heatedly argued over whose story idea was the best. She still deeply held the conviction that her plot involving Rainbow Dash fighting her way through Chrysalis’ hive to collect the 200 bits that the changeling monarch owed her was the best one.

As Witkowski’s face was shown on the screen, the story told of how he claimed to have gained access to confidential records belonging to his nation’s Military Intelligence services, some of which detailed the post-war interrogation of an “SS Gruppenfuhrer” named Jakob Sporrenberg. Witkowski’s book, The Truth About The Wonder Weapon, enjoyed some brief success but did not achieve widespread circulation. It was, however, read by a number of people outside its country of origin, one of whom was the “British” writer and Ufologist, Nick Cook. Witkowski’s material was scarce and lacking in corroboration, but it intrigued Cook to an extent that he too began investigating the reports, determined to bring the story to an international audience.

Apple Bloom had raised an eyebrow before eventually asking, “Hol’ up, there’s an official field of science all about studyin’ UFOs?”

“In the human world, I guess.”, Sweetie Belle replied simply.

Witkowski’s face which had already faded and in its place came Sporrenberg, seemingly in full uniform, staring off into the distance. It is said that buried within Sporrenberg’s depositions - before his appearance at Poland’s War Crime Tribunals - was a lengthy description of a scientific apparatus, the existence of which the German government had gone to great lengths to keep hidden from their opponents. The device was believed to have been used to produce an unknown fuel source, but was so hazardous to operate that it caused the deaths of many scientists who worked on it.

Scootaloo expectantly turned to Sweetie Belle and asked, “What do they mean by fuel source?”

“It means something that is used to power machines.”, she answered. “Like how coal powers trains.”

“So, they sacrificed all those guys ta somehow make fuel for their war machines?”, a bewildered Apple Bloom asked with one eyebrow raised.

“That’s dumb!”, Scootaloo spoke up once more. “That’s like if we made rainbows out of blood drained from pegasai. Who’d do that?”

The machine had been nicknamed “The Bell” because of its physical appearance.

“No shit, narrator.”, all three fillies flatly said in unison.

Sporrenberg described it as being around four meters high and two and a half meters wide, made entirely of metal and with a hemispherical domed top. Huge amounts of power were needed in order to operate it, which in turn created a blue and violet haze around its hull.

“If it really consumes so much power, how is the fuel it produces even worth it?”, Sweetie Belle silently questioned.

The next image cut to a man in the same room with “The Bell”. His eyes clenched tightly shut and his lips expanded wide open to display his gritting teeth. Through this look of searing pain, the man used both of his hands to desperately grasp his stomach. As if something were about to burst out of it. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle snapped to Scootaloo’s direction immediately upon hearing her sudden cackling fit.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just- (*sniff) it looks like he’s got the trots!”, she finished saying before letting out just a few more giggles.

During its initial stages of creation, the SS Lieutenant General explained that an invisible field was somehow generated around the apparatus, which extended out to roughly two hundred meters. When plant and foliage samples were placed within this zone during the machine’s operation, they would slowly decompose into a greasy organic fluid. However, it was the effect it had on humans and animals in its immediate vicinity that was most horrific.

“Oh, Celestia! They did it ta animals too!?”, Apple Bloom thought.

The unknown forces being emitted from inside the device somehow formed solid crystals in the tissue of any living creature exposed to it. The bloodstreams of these unfortunate victims would clot and solidify into a thick gel-like compound, causing a near-instantaneous and agonizing death. Once the machine was switched off, the blood would then naturally return to its liquid state, pouring out of the bodies and pooling on the floor around them.

Apple Bloom continued to simmer over these people’s callous disregard for others’ lives. For her part, Sweetie Belle wondered if Sombra had a spell that did the same thing to ponies as this machine. She then counted herself lucky that she and her friends were only mind controlled when Sombra came to Ponyville. If he had found out that they were each related or connected to one of the Element bearers, they might have ended up like those poor volunteers if the shadowy tyrant was feeling vengeful enough. Scootaloo, meanwhile, was rethinking her stance on letting these would-be hangmen be used for this experiment.

“I change my mind, I definitely wouldn’t wish this on anypony! Even if they were killers.”

This process would supposedly kill five out of the seven original scientists assigned to this project, until an effective means was found which could shield them from its effects. It remains unknown exactly what this force was, but Sporrenberg states that it was powerful enough to to lift the device off the ground for short periods of time, allowing it to hover a few feet in the air. The story then transitioned to an image of two scientists who had opened up the machine to take a look inside. Within its metal housing were two cylinders, which were designed to rotate around one another in an anticlockwise direction at great speed when the power was switched on. Unknown substances were added to these cylinders, which in turn went on to achieve the experiment’s ultimate goal; the creation of an unknown crimson-colored fluid.

With her head resting on one of her forehooves, Sweetie said, “Hmm, I’d probably guess they were using some kind of blood magic if it weren’t for how rare and not understood magic in this world was said to be.”

Many have speculated the compound which Die Glocke produced was “Red Mercury”, a theoretical material believed to boost the fission power of nuclear weapons.

“Okay, we’d better find out what nuclear weapons are before this three parter is over.”, Scootaloo said.

Apple Bloom quickly nodded in agreement, “Yeah, what’s so gosh darn special about ‘em?”

Other commentators, keen to point out that there has never been a verified example of Red Mercury being created or analyzed, have instead theorized the machine was some sort of rudimentary “particle accelerator”. It is possible that the Germans managed to obtain samples of “thorium”, which the process was able to convert into a further material known as “Protactinium”. This substance would naturally start to deteriorate immediately upon the point of creation, meaning that, after approximately a month, it would degrade into what was effectively weapons-grade “uranium”. Scootaloo turned to see if she could ask her friends to explain any of this to her but immediately knew better when she saw their expressions. Apple Bloom looked on in slack-jawed silence and even the walking, talking dictionary herself looked stumped when trying to follow all this alien technobabble.

The Reich’s efforts to secure the material needed to manufacture atomic weaponry are supposedly well documented, and so this theory about The Bell’s true purpose can be considered realistic. An alternative hypothesis is that the Germans were looking to solve another pressing issue that was impairing their ability to continue the war; the need to find a form of sustainable and renewable energy.

“Neither of these explain why this thing let out a force that painfully killed anyone close to it.”, Sweetie Belle objected. “At least, I don’t think they do.”

“Honestly, what does fuel have to do with turning someone’s flesh into crystals and their blood solid?”, Scootaloo rhetorically asked.

“If they don’t start explainin’ how those two things are connected, Imma start assumin’ the Germans did it for shits n’ giggles.”, Apple Bloom said with a scowl.

Even from the outset of World War Two, Germany was woefully short of the basic resources it needed.

“That would actually be really embarrassing if they actually started a war with the rest of the world knowing that they didn’t have what’s needed to win.”, Scootaloo said.

As the conflict continued, her scientists were locked in a perpetual struggle to combine their existing fuel sources into innovative new compounds and applications, but none proved practical for widespread use.

“Who’s ‘her’?”, Scootaloo asked.

Sweetie her chin with her hoof until something occurred to her, “Is there also a ‘Princess Germany’?”

“(*groan) For Celestia’s sake!”

Apple Bloom’s complaint had drawn both sets of eyes on her, to which she continued, “There’s no such thing as Princess Germany! Or Princess America either. They’re obviously referrin’ ta the countries themselves as ‘she’ and ‘her’!”

After a small moment of surprised silence, Sweetie opened her mouth to speak only to be stopped by Apple Bloom raising her hoof up as a gesture to remain quiet. Nothing else to do, the unicorn simply pouted, crossed her forelegs and went back to watching the story. As the narrator told of how other theories about Die Glocke were much more fantastical and terrifying, the story cut to a new image. It showed a German officer accompanied by two scientists looking down at the machine, through a window, from a room that was most certainly designed to keep them protected from its deadly effects.

Some suggest that the harmful field it generated may indeed have been fully intentional, and that the German’s intended to mass produce these devices and then activate them on the front lines.

“I can’t imagine that ‘death field’ somehow being accidental.”

The other two wholeheartedly agreed with Scootaloo. The idea that a feature like that was simply a byproduct and not the main purpose of the device was too big of a pill for them to swallow. Especially if these Germans were deliberately exposing human test subjects to said field of death. What other reason does one do that other than to see how effectively you can kill people with it?

The subsequent mass casualties that would have resulted from their deployment would not only have been catastrophic to the armies of their opponents, but would have given the Reich a huge psychological edge. The fact that the device was witnessed hovering above the ground has led many to believe that is was some form of anti-gravity technology, intended to power a new generation of fighter aircraft such as the Haunebu.

“Well, that’s one thing that finally connects this back ta the first part.”, Apple Bloom pointed out.

“Oh, right. This is a three parter.”, Sweetie Belle said.

But by far the most terrifying potential application for the device comes from the testimony of a scientist name Otto Cerny. The Crusaders instinctually focused their attention even harder, knowing they were probably about to hear the craziest part of this story. Cerny was one of a number of German academic who were taken back to the United States after the war under Project Paperclip, where they were utilized in the American rocket program. The three fillies were amazed that these humans had apparently built rockets, something that was only conceived scientifically a few years ago and has recently become a big staple of sci-fi comics. Except one of them had gotten a little too hung up on the project’s title.

“Project Paperclip? That’s a pretty lame name for a project involving rockets.”, Scootaloo remarked.

“Mah sis told me that governments like ta give all secret operations bland nicknames. That way enemies and spies can’t tell what their about or how important they actually are.”

Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom and said, “Which she knows because she’s actually a secret agent. Or even a Mare in Black!”

Apple Bloom met Sweetie Belle’s grin with a deadpan glare.

“Can it.”

It is alleged that Cerny stated that The Bell had the ability to show the operators images from the past and future, via a concave mirror that had been mounted upon it. With widened eyes and open ears, the trio watched as the narrator clarified how this raised the horrifying possibility that the Germans somehow stumbled across the ability to move through time, and that Die Glocke was a prototype for a working time machine. As ridiculous as this sounds, who knows what the world would have been like if the Reich had succeeded in altering the past?

“I can’t believe we’re getting into more time travel stuff so soon after the CrossWade Interlopers.”, Sweetie Belle said.

“It probably didn’t show them anything helpful though, cause they apparently still lost.”, Scootaloo commented.

“Hmmm. Ah wonder if this ‘Bell’ is what showed ‘em that their best chance at a future was in Antarctica?”, Apple Bloom wondered aloud.

Despite all these rumors, there is no photographic or scientific evidence to prove Die Glocke ever existed. Skeptics believe that these storieswere merely the efforts of a disgraced war criminal attempting to curry favor with his captors. But when certain elements of the device’s story are subjected to closer analysis, it is startling how they corroborate with what we do know about the closing days of World War Two. The remains of the testing facility referred to in Sporrenberg’s testimony can still be visited, situated not far from the town of Ludwikowice in Poland. Deep tunnels were dynamited into the bowels of the nearby Wenceslas mine, to hide the activities of the German scientists from allied aerial reconnaissance, but it is the presence of two decaying concrete structures at the site which is most intriguing.

Both consist of a series of concentric concrete posts, laid out in similar fashion to the stone circles found at Stonehenge in Great Britain. This has earned them the nickname of “the henges”. It is not known exactly what their true purpose was, but some believe these structures may have been testing rigs, which Die Glocke was tethered to when in use. Sweetie Belle looked at the bare-bones remains of one of these “henges”. Despite its lack of a roof, it’s circular shape reminded her of Carousel Boutique. Apple Bloom saw something else however.

“If ya squint yer eyes, tilt yer head and picture a roof, ya can almost see town hall.”

Doing as Apple Bloom suggested, Scootaloo replied, “Eh. I don’t see it.”

Jakob Sporrenberg spent the majority of the war in charge of SS Policing Units in “Lublin” district of Poland, but in 1944 he and the majority of his staff were transferred to “Norway”. The reason it is difficult to write his testimony off as pure fabrication is because it has been subsequently corroborated by another German officer, “Hauptsturmfuhrer” Rudolf Schuster.

“Try sayin’ THAT title three times fast, let alone pronouncin’ it.”, said a perplexed looking Apple Bloom.

The other two fillies agreed; while hearing the narrator himself pronounce it made it easier, they hated to imagine having to guess the correct pronunciation of “Hauptsturmfuhrer” by only seeing the word written. It probably would go similarly to their first time having to recite that “Pickled Pepper” tongue twister at the playground or in daycare when they were really young.

Schuster was similarly stationed in Lublin during the war, but was later captured by American forces. During his postwar interrogation in Berlin, completely independently of Sporrenberg, he also described Die Glocke to his captors. Schuster explained that as Russian forces had heard the testing facility, he had supervised an excavation of both the device and the technicians working on it, to an unknown location.

“How close were the Russians? Cause if they were like five miles away when the Germans began excavating those machines, I’m gonna call that story a bunch of horseapples.”, Scootaloo said.

“I mean, think of all those cars and flying machines they’ve got. Is something like that really so impossible in such a world?” Sweetie countered.

Of particular interest in the story of Die Glocke is the senior officer allegedly attached to project, an SS General by the name of Hans Kammler. The Crusaders feel a little intimidated looking upon this General in his fancy-looking uniform. Whoever he was he certainly looked important. Most eye-catching was the skull & crossbones emblazoned on the front of his cap.

“Are we sure these Germans aren’t pirates at all?”, Scootaloo wondered.

Kammler was ambitious and despicably loyal to the Nazi regime, and in the closing stages of the war, he managed to gain control of Hitler’s Wonder-Weapon programs.

“Ah wonder if this guy is like Hitler’s Tempest Shadow?”

“If you mean like he’s his number one badass…”, Scootaloo said in response to Apple Bloom. “…then nah. I’m pretty sure anypony who’s in charge of projects like this are usually desk jockeys.”

“Ah was thinkin’ more like his second in command, but ya still raise a good point.”

Indeed, once they had gotten over being imprisoned at her hooves, all three fillies had come to appreciate one aspect about Tempest or… Berrypop Fizzletwist(?): she is unquestionably awesome. And she has further taken her awe-inspiring reputation with her as the newest rising star in Twilight’s night guard. As for Kammler, whatever chance for developing a similar respect for were further dashed when the narrator told of the time he ordered his men to open fire on a convoy of refugees who were blocking his passage through the Arnsberg forest. Two hundred men, women and children died, and Kammler would become one of the most sought-after fugitives for War Crimes investigators.

“What a scumbag!”, Sweetie Belle scowled in disgust.

The Crusaders knew of Tempest’s ruthlessness both through first-hoof experience and from personal tales told by their sister figures. They’d even heard of both her relentless style and otherworldly capability from a recent story in the papers of her leading an operation where she busted (and painfully pummeled) a bunch of rogue royal guards who were secretly plotting to rob the royal treasury. But this man, Kammler, had made his ugly character plain and visible for all to see. He was nothing but a coward. Apple Bloom herself regretted even raising any comparisons to Tempest.

According to the narrator, he apparently committed suicide as his pursuers closed in on him and was declared legally dead three years after the war ended. Kammler’s body was never found, and reports that he had successfully found his way to South America, or he had been extracted by US agents to assist in Project Paperclip continued to surface. That last bit induced a lot of mixed feelings amongst the three fillies. For the past several years, Equestria has seen numerous successes reforming its enemies. Still, something felt wrong about not having this war criminal serve time for the death of two hundred innocent people.

“How can rockets be so important that they’d let someone like THAT get off scot-free?”, Apple Bloom pondered in slight disbelief.

Like most other military forces at that time, Kammler’s command had been broken up and redistributed into other units as the German armies had retreated. So it is impossible to know the true fate of him and the soldiers under his command. Postwar records have indicated that as late as April 1945, General Kammler and approximately six hundred of his staff made their way from Poland into Austria, accompanied by “lorries”(?) filled with equipment. By the time American infantry units had entered the region, all trace of him and whatever he was escorting had vanished. Unsurprisingly, this news was more than a little disappointing to each filly watching.

Reports linking Hans Kammler to Austria are of particular interest, due to the stories and legends associated with Untersberg region of the country. For centuries there have been tales of groups of people disappearing, or experiencing time slips in the Untersberg mountains.

Apple Blooms widened in realization, “They’re not gonna say what ah think they’re gonna say, are they?”

“Oh, they might.”, Sweetie Belle replied.

In 2011, a book by an author named Stan Wolf made a startling claim; Wolf cited witness testimonies from shepherds in the region who were said to have seen a force of Nazi soldiers walk through a wall of sold rock, never to be seen again.

Apple Bloom blinked a few times as she processed what she heard. She certainly wasn’t expecting to hear about soldiers moving walls like ghosts. Honestly, she thought they were going to explain that the Nazis were using “The Bell” to travel through time and kidnap random people passing through for whatever sick experiments they had in mind.

“Okay, never mind whatever ah was thinkin’. Cause this is way weirder than what I expected.”

“So Die Glocke can also let you move through walls on top of everything else it does?”, Scootaloo questioned.

“Wow!”, Sweetie Belle’s breathy voice marveled. “Does it come with cup holders too?”

Much like everypony else in Equestria, Sweetie was enamored with the hot new fad doodad that was the cup holder; it was quickly becoming a standard for every model of travel cart to have.

Another witness allegedly encountered young German soldiers living in the mountains’ cave network, aging at an inexplicably low rate, seemingly unaware that the war they were fighting had been lost.

“Kinda like those German sailors from part one.”, Scootaloo pointed out.

The narrator raised the possibility that Kammler and his scientists had sufficiently mastered Die Glocke to allow them to escape the allied forces, traveling either backwards or forwards in time to evade them. While he admitted this was an outlandish claim, he insisted that it became more believable when factoring the events that occurred in the “Pennsylvanian” village of “Kecksburg”, twenty years after the war ended. On the afternoon of December 9th, 1965, radar operators tracked an object from the skies above Kecksburg. The local authorities were able to secure the crash site of this object, and recover it before members of the press could access the location.

“I wonder if they had some help from the Men in Black to pull that off?”, Sweetie Belle privately inquired.

From the limited testimony of those who witnessed this object’s recovery, it’s said to bear a staggering resemblance to Jakob Sporrenberg’s description of Die Glocke, a metal craft shaped like a bell and covered in strange runes and hieroglyphs.

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow, “I don’t remember them describin’ The Bell as havin’ any runes.”

“Or hieroglyphs.”, Scootaloo added.

It is speculated that Die Glocke somehow traveled forwards in time from 1945, materialized in orbit above the Earth and accidentally crash-landed in North America. Another idea is that Allied forces successfully recovered both Kammler and his technology from Nazi Germany, and that the Kecksburg crash was the result of American experimentation with The Bell. In spite of all these theories, it is still highly unlikely that there will ever be a definitive explanation on whether Die Glocke actually existed or if it was merely a tall tale which has taken on a life of its own.

“Ah mean, nopony who’s said they’ve seen it can agree on whether it’s an aircraft, a weapon, a fuel generator or a time machine.”, Apple Bloom began. “So what’s ta stop me from assumin’ it’s mostly made up?”

All that can be done is to follow a frustrating and disjointed trail of evidence, which stubbornly suggests that there may indeed be a degree of truth behind the tale. Looking broadly at German weapons experiments of the era and discounting those stories alleged to involve extra-terrestrial technology or “satanic”(?) rituals, the narrator purported that it was not beyond all possibility that the German scientists managed to create a weapons system far ahead of its time. However, until any concrete evidence comes to light, all one can do is wonder…

Once the story came to its close, Sweetie spoke up.

“So, anypony else find it weird that this is the second time in this three parter that they said America secretly and tested German tech? I swear, Princess America is sounding craftier the more we hear about her.”

Apple Bloom put her face in her hooves and groaned, “Ah thought ah told ya, that’s the name of the country, not a Princess!”

“Who’s to say it’s not both?”, Scootaloo interjected.

Apple Bloom turned to the pegasus and asked, “What do ya mean?”

“Well, we know that the country is called America, or the United States or whatever.”, she began replying. “But where do you think the name comes from? Maybe the country is named after a royal family that’s been in charge of it since the beginning? Like, the America dynasty or something.”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth and raised her hoof to respond before immediately reversing those actions and looking off to the side in thought.

“Let’s just get ta the last part already.”, she finally said with a dismissive wave of her hoof.

Author's Note

Remember to both leave a like AND comment your thoughts down below. I really could use some feedback :twilightsmile:

By the way in case anyone was wondering how Scootaloo’s RD vs Chrysalis story would have turned out..

The New York Nuke: Mysteries of the Third Reich Part Three

The story opened on two military officers in a big storage facility, staring at one of those human flying machines they saw back in the first part. Having originally seen their smoldering and damaged forms crashing into the depths off in the distance, it was nice to get an up close look at them fully intact. From solar canons to time-traveling armies, the narrator began, there are few areas of science fiction that were not inspired in some way by Hitler’s Wonder Weapons program. In the majority of cases, these outlandish proposals rarely made it off the drawing board. But there is concerning evidence that the Third Reich may have come uncomfortably close to deploying nuclear weapons on American soil.

“Finally we get to learn what nuclear weapons are!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed.

“Wait, so this Hitler feller inspired most of human sci-fi by himself?”, Apple Bloom with both eye brows raised as if the surprise in her voice wasn’t obvious enough.

“Yeah, that is pretty nuts.”, Scootaloo concurred. “At that point, you know you’re a big deal.”

“You know what would be even crazier?”

“What?”, Scootaloo said in response to Sweetie Belle.

“What if it happened the opposite way?”

Upon noticing the blank stares she was receiving from her friends, the unicorn elaborated, “Like, what if somepony took a bunch of plot points from sci-fi stories and used them to make himself a prophet?”

“Ah’m pretty sure all sci-fi writers profit that way.”, Apple Bloom said.

“No, not profit. Prophet. As in a savior who preaches and spreads the word of a God or… higher power(?).”

“So, it’s like if Starlight had instead built a cult by claiming aliens were talking to her?”, Scootaloo guessed.

“Yeah, and telling her followers that doing what she claims the aliens are telling her they’ll be allowed to come their planet.”, Sweetie affirmed. “Something like that.”

“Honestly, anypony who gets into somethin’ like that probably has a few screws loose.”, Apple Bloom said.

“Wouldn’t that mean your sister-in-law has some screws-“

Apple Bloom quickly snapped her head in Sweetie’s direction and immediately moved to cut her off.

“SHH! Shh, shh, shh! Alright, alright! Fair point! Just please don’t ever tell Big Mac or Sugar Belle ah said that!”

As that conversation came to an end, so did the intro. It then showed another human flying machine, this one actually majestically swimming its way through the sky with its wings outstretched and its propellers revved all the way up. Squinting just slightly, the girls could make out the silhouettes of the human pilots. Each was located in their own cockpit, one on the top and one right at the front.

As the sun started to sink below the horizon, the solitary “twin-engined bomber” made steady progress along the Baltic Coast. Its pilot, Hans Zinsser, was well aware that twilight was the only safe window of flight for the Luftwaffe. Too late for the enemy’s daytime patrols and too late for their night-fighter equivalents. The “Heinkel 111” he piloted was rapidly becoming something of a rarity.

“Heh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the narrator is messing with us.”, Scootaloo thought with a jovial smirk.

This model had been one of the most abundant bombers at the outset of the war, but “High Command’s” desire to channel their available resources into developing new and untested aircraft designs meant the heavy losses that their existing fleet had suffered were not being addressed. Zinsser had managed to avoid active service, instead operating as a test pilot.

“Damn, that’d be the best job ever!”, Scootaloo wistfully stated.

“Ya mean bein’ a test pilot?”, asked Apple Bloom.

“Yeah! Besides being a Crusader or a Wonderbolt, piloting one of those babies would be my go-to career.”

She could just imagine it now. Testing out Equestria’s state of the art aerodynamic craft. It’d be extra cool if it was equipped with some ammo like the human ones were. Being able to fire cool weapons at targets without worrying about hurting anypony or being fatally fired back at. Even if it didn’t have that, just gracefully flying through the sky at such speeds would be enough to make it worthwhile. Without even thinking, she craned her head to look behind her; the sight of those stubbly little wings of hers elicited a sorrowful sigh.

The bomber Zinsser was now transporting from one side of Germany to the other was destined for modification in order to drastically expand its operational range. This was a necessity, as the airfields which had originally been taken by the Wehrmacht as it had surged across Europe during the opening months of the war had slowly fallen back into enemy hands. He flew on, the light outside the cockpit gradually fading, nurturing a growing sense of unease. Zinsser allowed himself one last look around, scanning for enemy fighters and searching for visual landmarks to take a bearing from. He then glanced down to consult the map that rested upon his right leg.

The screen then cut to the inside of the plane, the perspective being over the pilot’s shoulder from behind. The sight of the insane amount of dials on the dashboard tracking Celestia knows what made Scootaloo second guess her desire to pilot one of these things. She just wanted to fly, not learn all this mumbo jumbo just to keep the air vehicle flying safely and in the right direction. By the dim overhead lighting, Zinsser reckoned he was now passing somewhere to the south west of “Lubeck”, continuing into the province of Mechlenburg. He was still peering down at the map when the whole cabin was suddenly saturated by a white light so blinding that he had to shield his eyes. As the light had faded, he was surprised to see a gigantic white cloud rising into the air off to starboard. All three girls grew perplexed upon spotting this cloud.

“Wait, so that ain’t made by the humans’ weather team?”, Apple Bloom asked without expecting an answer.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Twilight said they can’t control weather in their world.”, Sweetie Belle answered.

“They can’t even do that!? What kind of weird world is this?”, Scootaloo questioned.

With a roll of her eyes, Sweetie Belle replied, “Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s just like every part of our world that doesn’t have pegasai.”

Both the pilot and the Crusaders watched for a bit, hypnotized, as it swelled into a huge mushroom shape when, all of a sudden…

BOOM!!!

…he was hit by a huge shockwave.

Each girl watching was made to jump out of their seats on the floor and were now shivering a little as their ears took in the echoing rumble left by that earth-shaking explosion. The impact of that blast was made a little bit clear when they saw the spiderweb pattern left on the cockpit’s windows.

Realizing she was holding her breath, Sweetie Belle then exhaled her question, “Is that what a nuclear weapon is?”

“What kinda mushroom can make somethin’ that explosive?”, Apple Bloom said, wondering if her limited experience in potion-brewing with Zecora might help her figure what this nuclear stuff was made of.

The control column had been violently yanked out of Zinsser’s grasp and the plane veered off to one side as if it had been swatted by a gigantic open palm. It was on the verge of descending into an unrecoverable dive, but he was somehow able to regain control. This was not the first time he had found himself fighting to keep a plane in the air, but as he finally managed to level the Heinkel out, he was stunned by what he could now outside the cockpit windows. Approximately ten miles away from his position, the huge mushroom-shaped cloud now filled the sky. Zinsser assumed it was the pressure wave emitted from this enormous blast that had impacted the bomber.

“If it turns out that it actually didn’t, I’m afraid of finding out what actually hit the plane.”, Scootaloo thought as a bead of sweat formed on her brow.

Honestly, with how progressively stranger this three parter was getting, she half expected to find out some sort of giant monster both made that explosion and swatted the plane itself. Speaking of monsters causing disasters…

“Wait, was Mothman involved?”, she thought, before shaking the idea from her head and reminding herself that he probably wasn’t real.

He banked his aircraft towards the billowing cloud to see if he could determine what had caused such a massive explosion. As he flew closer, the bomber’s electrical systems started to malfunction, with his radio apparently failing altogether. Frowning, Zinsser turned away, noting how the cloud had an almost violet-blue hue to it and appeared to be illuminated from the inside by occasional smaller explosions.

“Hol’ up!”, Apple Bloom interjected. “Are they throwin’ extra dynamite in there for good measure?”

Looking just as baffled as the farm filly, Sweetie said, “I’m pretty sure that one big explosion is destructive enough on its own!”

Zinsser wrote down that the cloud was approximately one kilometer wide, and that the edges were starting to dissipate after about half a minute, before continuing on his way. Upon landing, his papers were seized, and he was curtly ordered not to speak of the matter to anybody else. Sweetie Belle recalled the time she caught a very tipsy (and underage) Rarity coming home from a party very late one night. Being only five years old at the time, she had no idea what was going on. That still didn’t stop Rarity from threatening the life of her stuffed bunny if she told their parents about it. With how scary that was, Sweetie hated to imagine what the government could do to threaten her into silence. Unlike Rarity, they probably wouldn’t sneak an extra cookie into her lunchbox as a reward for zipping her lip.

“That was one good peanut butter chocolate chip cookie~”, she nostalgically recalled.

The next time he would see his logbook would be weeks after the war ended, laid out on an American interrogation room table in front of him by American intelligence officials.

“Now that she’s heard of them, Princess America probably wanted to interrogate any German soldier who’s witnessed these nukes so that she has info to make her own.”, Scootaloo thought. “And she succeeded too.”

The document would later be transported to Maxwell Air Force Base in “Alabama”, where it was subsequently discovered by researchers in 1973. The story then cut to an image of a couple standing in front of a lighthouse, holding each other and staring out at the ocean in front of them. This was the coastal township of “Owl’s Head”, located roughly five from the city of “Rockland, Maine”, taking its name from the peninsula where it’s situated.

Apple Bloom shivered, “Why am ah so afraid of findin’ out why the town and its coast is called Owl’s Head?”

With Bedtime Stories’ taste for the strange and even the grizzly, it wasn’t entirely crazy to imagine that the story somehow involves a severed owl’s head. Ironic now that she once again remembered that mouse head Owlowicious dropped at her hooves that one time.

“I’m sure the bay is just shaped like an owl’s head, Apple Bloom.”, Sweetie Belle assured.

Owl’s Head is a popular holiday destination and is perhaps best known for the imposing 19th lighthouse, which looms above the town’s coastline. But in autumn of 1944, this picturesque resort was the setting for a mysterious and deeply troubling incident. At around midday of Monday September 18th, an elderly couple out walking along the nearby coastal trail caught sight of a lone aeroplane approaching the town from the direction of “Vinalhaven Island”. This in itself was not unusual, with PBM Mariners conducting regular patrols off the Maine coastline in search of German U-boat activity, but subsequent events would make it clear that this aircraft did not belong to the United States Navy.

All three fillies broke out into a cold sweat. Somehow, they neglected to realize earlier that whatever that secret bomb was, it was obviously supposed to be deployed against an entire town; and now they might see one get wiped off the map. The horrifying image of Canterlot or even Ponyville being incinerated in such an explosion flashed through their minds. While they all were terrified by that prospect, Scootaloo seemed to be taking it the worst.

Both witnesses described the plane as have six engines, rather than the two found on a Mariner, with a much thinner and longer “fuselage”. It was colored in a dark camouflage paint scheme, a stark contrast to the bright livery of the US naval patrol craft. As they watched on, they realized the mysterious aeroplane was steadily losing altitude as it came in from across the ocean, drawing ever closer to the glassy waters below. Both the old couple and the young trio kept watching as the aircraft continued its slow and torturous descent, until it crashed into the sea with a big splash.

In moments it was all over, with nothing but churning waters and smoke rising from the point where the doomed craft had entered the bay. After waiting for a short time to see if anybody had survived the crash, the couple hurried back into town to report the incident to Knox County Sheriff’s Department. The Crusaders felt partially sorry for the pilot and would normally have wished he hadn’t suffered that crash. However, considering what sort of cargo that plane was probably carrying, it was either his life or the lives of the entire town. Enquiries were then made to the military, who confirmed that they were not aware of any planned activity in the area and that all their aircraft were accounted for.

“You remember when we tried to get our cutie marks in skydiving?”, Sweetie Belle asked, receiving a reply from Scootaloo.

“Yeah. Too bad they turned us away and told us we weren’t old enough or whatever.”

Scootaloo then grumbled to herself about how she saw a frail old stallion around Granny Smith’s age get to skydive that same day.

“If you can be too young to skydive, then you should also be too old to skydive.”, she muttered.

“Honestly, seeing this guy fall to his death inside that flying machine makes me kind of glad we didn’t end up going.”, said the unicorn filly.

The screen had cut to a scene of a man standing at a beach between his car and some sort of road (or beach?) sign. He looked out at what appeared to be three tarps laid out across the beach.

“Are they pieces of a parachute?”, Apple Bloom wondered.

The narrator explained search conducted using one of the local fisherman’s boats yielded no results for the deputies sent out to investigate the report, other than an oil slick, and so no further investigation took place.

“If I didn’t know what was on that plane, I probably would’ve given up pretty quickly too.”, Scootaloo reluctantly confessed as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh, Celestia. This is gonna come back ta bite ‘em. Ah know it!”, Apple Bloom said with her face in her hooves.

Ten days later, on the morning of September 28th, the remains of three dead men were found washed up on “Penobscot Bay”, just to the north of town. The three fillies found themselves surprised that there was actually three bodies found, not suspecting that the plane required more than one person to pilot it. As the resident who had located bodies stood waiting for the police, he noted they were dressed in grayish blue overalls and equipped with various items which suggested they were aviators. One of the men appeared to have some sort rank displayed on his collar, with yellow and brown tabs. While the resident did not recognize this insignia, the cross-shaped black medal located on the left breast pocket was chillingly familiar to him.

Realizing that whatever they were looking at was beyond their remit, the attending deputies immediately referred the matter to the military. They remained at the scene and assisted in keeping back a growing crowd of onlookers, whilst soldiers recovered the bodies of the three pilots and transported them to the nearby “Ash Point Naval Air Station”.

“Oh no, those humans are done for now that they’ve gotten close to the water where bomb probably is!”, Sweetie Belle said as she slowly brought both up to place atop her head.

Exhaling through her nose and looking down to the ground, Apple Bloom replied, “With how big that explosion from earlier was suppose’ ta be, ah don’t even think they woulda been safer if they stayed their homes.”

With that, the Crusaders sat there, grimly anticipating to see an entire town consumed in a mushroom-shaped cloud, leaving nothing behind except it’s ashes; Scootaloo gulped as she mentally prepared herself to experience, second-hoof, a disaster countless times worse than the one that struck her home recently. The narrator then went on to explain how a steady stream of military and government officials visited the town over the next few days. Some of them claimed to be army intelligence officers, while others introduced themselves as “FBI agents”, asking if any other residents had seen what transpired. Regardless of the subsequent reply, these officials went to great pains to emphasize that the bodies came from a submarine which had sunk further out in the bay and that no plane crash had occurred.

Miraculously, all three fillies raised an eyebrow upon hearing that. They kept that expression as it was further told of how the story of three dead German airmen embedded itself within the local consciousness. Their confusion turned to slight relief when the narrator further exposited how a local diver named Ruben Whitmore decided to investigate this incident many years later. This was accompanied by an illustration of what was presumably Whitmore in scuba gear diving down to search the sea floor.

“Wait, so it never went off?”, Apple Bloom questioned.

Scootaloo turned to her and went, “Shush! Don’t jinx it!”

Internally, the orange pegasus knew that her friend’s words had no impact on the outcome. She really just hoped her hunch that this “Whitmore” guy would accidentally cause the bomb to destruct after discovering it would be proven false.

For several months, Whitmore dived in and around the area, searching for evidence of the crash. The alleged wreck was not there, but he managed to recover several small pieces of metallic debris, exactly at the spot that the plane apparently came down.

“Wait, does this mean the government got the bomb out of the ocean?”, Scootaloo asked.

“Huh.”, Sweetie placed a hoof on the tip of her chin. “I feel kind of embarrassed we didn’t realize that sooner.”

Indeed, that did seem obvious now that they all thought about it. Meanwhile, one of the metal pieces Whitmore discovered was subsequently identified by experts as a “manufacturers plate”. Despite rusting and degrading during its time under the water, raised lettering was still clearly visible. This consisted of a serial number and the word “Fliegeroberstkommando”.

“Wuh?”, Apple Bloom said with a head tilt.

Scootaloo ran her hoof back and forth through her mane, “The only part of that word I think I got was commando.”

“I swear, at least some of these German words had to have been first spoken by someone who was choking at the time.”, Sweetie Belle added.

This word was a German military designation that loosely translated as a pilot holding the rank of Colonel. The narrator pointed out how the fact that the wreck appears to have been covertly recovered, and the insistence by the United States military that it never even existed, raised some troubling questions.

“Why did they need to cover up the nuke, even after the war?”, Sweetie wondered. “Aren’t nukes supposed to be a weapon every human knows exists?”

“Plus, wouldn’t ya wanna have the public aware that the enemy has those city-destroyin’ bombs?”, Apple Bloom added. “Ya know, in case they do it again and the people can be prepared the next time?”

“I think maybe the German were the first to make nuclear weapons. Then when that plane crash-landed in the water, the American military took it apart, figured out how it worked and then finally made their first nukes.”, suggested Scootaloo.

The American Military apparently never attempted to conceal or deny similar attacks by submarine-launched “Japanese” aircraft during the Second World War.

“Hmm, sounds like we got another country that fought in World War Two. And on the same side as the Germans, from the sound of it.”, Apple Bloom guessed.

So, it begged the question: what exactly compelled them to cover up this particular enemy incursion?

The exact purpose of this lone German bomber is unknown. Such an aircraft, equipped with conventional weaponry, would have had little chance of inflicting significant damage to any target in the American mainland. The extreme range it would have to operate at, paired with the strong defenses of the US Air Force would have essentially made such an endeavor a suicide mission. So why did these young German airmen die so far from their homeland?

The screen cut back to the image of the German officers staring at the plane from the beginning of the story. The narrator told of a covert German military project predating the outbreak of World War Two, codenamed “Amerikabomber”.

“See! These Germans know how to name properly name a cool, top secret operation!”, Scootaloo praised. “None of that Project Paperclip horse apples.”

“Ummm… isn’t that name pretty on the nose, though?”, Sweetie Belle pointed out.

With a roll of her eyes, Apple Bloom nonchalantly stated, “Ah’m really not surprised you of all ponies would choose a super obvious name like that for a secret project, Scoots.”

“Hey! I’ll remind you, I’m the one who came with Gabby Gums as our fake name for our school articles!”, the pegasus spoke up in defense of her creativity.

In 1938, Adolf Hitler was well aware that his future plans for “European”domination ran the risk of bringing the Third Reich into direct conflict with the United States. He ordered that the Luftwaffe commence research into a bomber capable of delivering its payload to “New York City” and still having enough fuel to return home.

“So, this New York City was the real target…”, Apple Bloom deduced.

“I wonder what happened to the old York City?”, Sweetie Belle wondered aloud.

Scootaloo took a second to ponder that question before answering, “Maybe it was destroyed in the First World War?”

Apple Bloom had actually forgotten that there was supposed to have been a First World War; she now began to wonder why they haven’t heard a single mention of it so far.

At the time of Hitler’s request, there was no aircraft on Earth capable of completing the 7,200-mile round trip, let alone one heavily laden with explosive munitions. As with many of Hitler’s edicts, the project was paid the necessary lip service and then quietly filed away.

“Wow. Sounds like Hitler didn’t command as much respect as you’d think.”, Scootaloo remarked.

However, this would immediately change when America entered the war in December of 1941. Suddenly, the Luftwaffe had a new top priority. Many different different designs were considered, from aircraft equipped with “jet engines” to modified rocket technology, but the truth was that Germans had neither the neither the resources nor the expertise to pursue such an undertaking.

“Yet they’re supposed to have been capable of building a flying saucer and a time machine?”, Sweetie Belle questioned.

“Yeah. Really undermines the last two parts, don’t it?”, Apple Bloom concurred.

Instead, extensive work was carried out in the creation of a specially crafted conventional bomber capable of the task, the JU-390. As with many German military projects, the completed aircraft arrived far too late in the conflict to be able to turn the tide of war, and a lack basic resources meant that few were ever constructed. In the dying days of World War Two, the allies believed only one functioning prototype of the aircraft ever existed, which was found dismantled when the American army captured Dessau in November of 1944.

That thinking changed during the post-war interrogation of a Luftwaffe airman named Unteroffizer Wolf Baumgart. The image showed Baumgart, the mustachioed photographic reconnaissance expert, claiming to two American military officers sitting across from him that there actually were seven total JU-390’s that had been constructed. According to him, they had completed flights as far afield as “Capetown” and “Tokyo”.

Apple Bloom sighed, “Ah wish this crystal ball could show us a map so we could tell how impressive that is.”

However, it was Baumgart’s assertion that one of these aircraft had successfully reached New York, that most troubled his captors. The Luftwaffe officer claimed that in January of 1944, a JU-390 had set off from the airfield at “Mont-De-Marsan”, not far from “Bordeaux”. Sweetie Belle felt her lips crook upward into a smile.

“Now, those are fun words to say!”

“What is?”, asked Apple Bloom.

“Mont-De-Marsan and Bordeaux.”

Scootaloo gave Sweetie Belle her most judgmental look, “Wait, you think those are fun to say. But you think words like Wehrmacht, Luftwaffe and Kriegsmarine sound like somepony choking to death?”

“I mean those are better than the other German words we’ve heard so far.”, Sweetie conceded. “But whatever human came up with those last two words know how to hit the ear just right.”

Scootaloo dismissively rolled her eyes and she along with the other two girls went back to watching the story. Baumgart had explained how, over the next 32 hours, this plane had crossed the Atlantic Ocean and managed to cross American airspace to within 12 miles of New York City, taking several photographs of its supposedly iconic skyline. In 2007, a supporting story appeared “online” which claimed that in early 1944, another JU-390 had managed to reach “Ohio”, having set off from an airfield in Norway. Apparently, this plane was able to take pictures of the coastline off “Long Island” during its return journey.

“Well, if they really could reach America, then why didn’t they just send their planes over there to attack them?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Don’t ya remember? They said they only made six of these planes.”, Apple Bloom explained. “If they tried ta attack the United States, all six of those planes are gettin’ shot down.”

“They should’ve done what I did to get all of us onto that cruise ship for free!”, Scootaloo chirped.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle shivered as they recalled being shot out of a canon and flying through the air to somehow miraculously land safely on the deck of the cruise ship.

The narrator asserted that Baumgart’s accounts, coupled with the fact that the JU-390 was equipped with six engines, lends significant credence to the possibility that one may have indeed crash-landed in Maine in September of 1944. As he explained how America’s entry into the war caused Hitler to become obsessed with scoring some sort of symbolic victory against them, the now black screen illuminated with the eruption of a nuclear blast. Hitler was said to have raged over the countless German citizens killed during the incessant Allied bombing campaign and vowed to find a way to repay these actions in kind. The fillies all winced, this being the first time they actually felt sympathetic to the German people. Then a terrible thought occurred to Scootaloo.

“Wait. So, did the Americans actually drop nukes on Germany?”, she mused. “Like… more than once?”

With wide eyes, Sweetie Belle tried to comprehend that prospect.

“How big and populated is Germany that it can keep fighting even after a bunch of their big cities were destroyed by nukes!?”

Apple Bloom was busy picturing the countless smoldering heaps of buildings and the millions of charred human corpses that would have been left by that many bombs.

“War brings out the worst in everypony.”, Apple Bloom thought bitterly.

There was only one way for Hitler to achieve his aim; to drop a nuclear weapon on a major American city. While according to human history, Germany was unable to create a viable nuclear weapon during the course of the war despite their best efforts, this narrative is directly challenged by the alleged nuclear explosion witnessed by Hans Zinsser during his flight near the “Ludwigslust” testing grounds. Naturally, his account would be easy enough to dismiss, were it not for the existence of a corroborating witness.

Writing after hostilities had ceased, an “Italian” war correspondent named Luigi Romera claimed that in October of 1944, the same month of Zinsser’s report, he had been dispatched to Germany at the request of Benito Mussolini.

“Were these Italians on the Americans’ side or Germany’s?”, Sweetie Belle wondered.

Thinking it over for a second, Apple Bloom answered, “Ummm, ah think Germany from the sound of it.”

“Ehh. Nah, I’m pretty sure they were on America’s side.”

With a single irritated twitch of her left eye, Apple Bloom grumbled, “Why’d ya ask then?”

Whilst in Germany he was taken to a remote island in the “Baltic Sea”, not far off the coast, where he witnessed a gigantic and blinding explosion. When he asked what had caused the blast, his military escorts told him that it was a “fission weapon”. The screen then cut to an image that caused all three fillies’ lower jaws to slowly descend to the floor.

“Okay, that’s it! I’m calling shenanigans!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed as she pointed her hoof at what was on screen.

What was shown was a perfect illustration of Manehattan with all of its most famous structures. It of course had the famous Statue of Friendship to complete the image. Perfectly captured was the statue’s stoic yet welcoming expression, its magnificent crown and the torch raised up high in its right hoof. Except, it wasn’t actually being held up by a hoof, but rather a hand belonging to a human female dressed in the statue’s iconic garb. The Statue of Friendship, but in human form.

The narrator continued on discussing how the Amerikabomber project hinged on the delivery of a super weapon directly into the heart of enemy territory. A weapon designed to cause the largest possible loss of life, and to gift the Nazi leadership with a propaganda victory the likes of which the world had never seen. The successful delivery of such a device could have granted Hitler an untold degree of bargaining power and potentially even change the entire outcome of the war. Unfortunately, the trio of fillies were taking none of this information in, as their minds were still stuck on the drawing of New York City, or “alternate Manehattan” as they knew it.

“I mean, did the humans come to our world a century ago and copy our buildings?”

As Scootaloo spoke, Apple Bloom recalled something her unicorn friend had said last night.

“Hey, Sweetie. Didn’t ya say yesterday that there’s… human versions of us in their world?”

Sweetie Belle snapped out of her wide-eyed stupor. She then took a second to recall what Apple Bloom had brought up before turning to the farm filly and saying, “Y-yeah, that is what Twilight told me. Why do you ask…?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Apple Bloom explained, “Well, if this place has different versions of us there, then maybe we shouldn’t be so surprised there’s other versions of our cities there too.”

“Well… I guess your right.”

“Does this technically mean we’ve been listening to stories about alternate universe Equestria this whole time?”, Scootaloo considered asking but decided against it.

Meanwhile, the narrator was positing whether the threat of further nuclear bombs by the Germans would have caused the Americans to put its offensives on hold or encouraged them to retaliate harder with nukes of their own. The window of opportunity for such a raid on the American mainland supposedly would have been closing rapidly in the aftermath of the successful “Normandy landings”. And with little in the way of resources to call upon, if the Germans were able to create a viable fission weapon, it is unlikely they would have been able to create more than one such device.

“I guess there really isn’t a point to throwing that weapon if they can just throw way more back at you.”, Scootaloo said in an uncharacteristic moment of wisdom.

The narrator then began to conclude with his now familiar rhetorical spiel, asking what caused the US military to deny the existence of the downed German aircraft off the coast of Maine and then covertly recover its remains. What awaited the naval divers who first ventured onto the wreckage? An odd-looking solitary weapon, rather than the bomb bay full of munitions that they were expecting to find? The reality is, that barring any future admission by the American government, the truth behind the Owls Head Crash will never be known. Potentially, this may have been a further test flight or reconnaissance mission for the developers of the JU-390.

“That could explain why they didn’t wanna tell the public.”, Apple Bloom mused. “The American government guessed that Germany only had a few of those planes. If there really wasn’t a city-destroyin’ bomb on it, then they had no reason ta scare the public by admittin’ that the enemy had planes that could reach them.”

Or perhaps the last desperate attempt at a good news story or propaganda coup for the German people, the conventional bombing raid on an American city providing a symbolic response to airborne destruction of Germany’s infrastructure. But the possibility remains, that this may have been something far more sinister. Something so awful and horrifying to the minds of American leaders that it needed to be concealed from their people. And if this was, indeed, the case, one must remain thankful that it never came to pass.

Scootaloo looked intently at the scene of New York City as it darkened into nothing but a silhouette. It’s resemblance to the familiar Manehattan made the threat of nuclear annihilation feel so much closer to home. Even though it was in an alternate universe, the idea that she and her friends had to live with the possibility of being annihilated at any moment and the average person could do nothing about it made her heart sink to her stomach. Her whole world had never felt so fragile.

“Hey, ah just realized somethin’.”, Apple Bloom spoke up.

“What is it?”, asked Sweetie Belle.

“If New York is just alternate universe Manehattan, don’t that mean America is actually Equestria?”

Her eyes lighting up with realization, Sweetie replied, “Oh! Yeah, your right!”

“Does that mean Celestia is the ruler of America in their world?”, the farm filly asked, before quickly correcting herself immediately realizing something important. “Or actually Twilight should be its Princess, ah guess.”

“Wellll, Twilight told me her human counterpart was still in high school the last time she visited.”, Sweetie explained. “So, I doubt she’s somehow become a princess in that short amount of time.”

“Ta be fair, our Twilight climbed up the ladder faster than the other princesses ta become our leader.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”, the unicorn conceded.

While this conversation was going on, Scootaloo had craned her head back to look at the window. She had been doing this repeatedly all night, usually out of a concern for her aunt’s safety. And while that was still on her mind, there was also something that compelled her. Something she couldn’t explain. It was as if she couldn’t risk not taking a good, long look at her hometown or else it might be gone before she knew it.

“Anyway, a deal’s a deal. Time ta play that card game ya promised, Sweetie.”

Scootaloo turned her forward upon hearing her chance for a new, much-needed distraction to occupy her anxiety-riddled mind.

“Alright.”, said Sweetie.

“That reminds me, Sweetie Belle.”, Scootaloo said. “What were you gonna make me do if we decided to watch a different video and I chose a bad one?”

Using her horn to lift up and dole out the deck of playing cards, Sweetie Belle simply waved her hoof dismissively, “Eh, I don’t know. I honestly wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

Scootaloo narrowed her eyes at Sweetie, growing more suspicious of her friend’s behavior. If she had to guess, she would say Sweetie Belle didn’t want to give her dare away in case she got an opportunity to use it again. Rather than dwell on it though, she took up her hooful of cards once Sweetie was finished giving them out. A little too much has been on her mind lately; instead, she should put her focus entirely on absolutely destroying her friends at this game.

While looking though her cards, Scootaloo was made to jump out of her fur when she a heard a loud boom outside. Instinctively, she snapped her head back towards the window to find that the town was, in fact, still there. Realizing that it was just another lightning strike, she turned back to her cards.

“Have I been getting really jumpy lately, or is that just my imagination?”, she wondered.

Author's Note

Hope you caught my neat little reference to the now abandoned “Ask The CMC” Tumblr Blog.

For those curious about what they’ll be reacting to next, the only hint I’ll give is that it’s going to be a ghost story (f***ing finally!).

Remember to leave your thoughts and the comments below, the feedback really helps. Leaving a like also helps as well!

Morning Milk Run

Author's Note

I know I promised to show the Crusaders reacting to a ghost story next, but don’t worry. That’s still coming. In the meantime though, don’t skip out on this!

Edit: Finally figured out a proper title besides “Interlude”

Morning Milk Run

“Rarity… RARITY!!!”

The fashionista snapped her eyes open with a gasp. She had half a mind to give her little sister a most stern warning for so rudely waking her from her much needed rest. That was, until her shifting eyes finally looked down. It was then she remembered that she actually wasn’t in bed, but was in the middle of pouring bowls of cereal for Sweetie and her friends. And thanks to her, Sweetie’s bowl was now overflowing so much that a… let’s call it a “milkfall”, was spilling out onto the floor.

Rarity immediately put the carton of milk down before sheepishly apologizing.

“Oh! I’m sho so- *yawn -rry, Sweetie!”, she said wearily. “Let me clean this up first and I’ll get your cereal soon.”

“How about we just pour our own cereals, Miss Rarity?”, Apple Bloom suggested from her seat at the table.

“Of course.”, she replied, happy to just focus on getting this milk off the floor before any pests came.

She grabbed a roll of paper towels from the cabinet and moved to start cleaning the floor when she saw something that gave her pause. Standing right in front of her and licking at the milk puddle was her fluffy, white cat, Opalescence. Rarity smiled at her pet’s “assistance” and instead decided to clean the counter until Opal was done helping herself to that milk. For her part, Sweetie Belle picked up the overfilled bowl and poured some of the excess milk into a bowl being held up to her by Apple Bloom. Now using the actual carton, Sweetie started pouring milk properly into both her friends’ cereal. Unfortunately for Scootaloo, the last of the milk was used up on hers, leaving her breakfast just a little dry; however, the pegasus seemed too busy looking out at the window to notice.

Sticking an ear out to listen closely, Sweetie Belle gave the carton a shake.

“Hey Rarity, we’re out of milk.”, she said.

“*sigh. Of course we are.”

Rarity took a look out the window. The rainfall last night was positively merciless in its downpour, but it’s seemed to have calmed at the moment. So much so that it looked like it might cease altogether soon. She’ll be fine as long as she brings her raincoat and umbrella with her.

“Well, I did promise to check on Sweet Apple Acres every couple of days.”, she said as she finished wiping down the counter. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to pick up some milk on the way back.”

“Can we come with you?”, Scootaloo suddenly spoke up.

Turning her head back to face the little pegasus who had been quiet all morning up until now, Rarity’s voice displayed her surprise as effectively as a mood ring.

“O-oh! Tired of being cooped up in Sweetie’s room I take it?”

Using one hoof to rub the back of her head, Scootaloo replied, “Yeah, I guess. But, if it’s not too much trouble, could you maybe drop me off to see Auntie Lofty and Holiday on the way there?”

Rarity got a good look at the filly’s body language. Noticing the flattened ears and anxious eyes, she responded accordingly with her most reassuring smile.

“Why of course, darling!”, she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster in her sleep-deprived state. “The weather looks like it will calm down enough for us to make a trip soon. So, how about we head out as soon as you girls are finished with your breakfast?”

Scootaloo visibly perked up, unable to contain her bright smile and embarrassing wagging tail.

“Thanks for being so cool, Miss Rarity!”, she complimented before finally digging into her Lucky Horseshoes.

Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom, who was also happily chowing down like Scootaloo. As much as she wanted to join them for the sake of her grumbling belly, there was still something that had her mind preoccupied at the moment. Getting Apple Bloom’s attention with a tap of her shoulder, Sweetie took the opportunity to lean in and whisper a question into her ear.

“Did Scootaloo seem okay to you when you woke her up?”

With an audible swallow, Apple Bloom whispered back, “Well… she did sorta shriek a bit when ah jostled her awake.”

“Yeah, same thing when I woke her up yesterday.”

“Ya think she’s havin’ nightmares about the accident?”

“Well, what else could it be?”

The farm filly simply shrugged her shoulders, “Ah’d probably be havin’ nightmares too if ah went through what she has.”

The two of them snuck a glance at Scootaloo holding her bowl up to her face and slurping the rest of her cereal as they continued talking.

“Whether or not that’s the reason, we’ll find out after today.”, Sweetie said.

Apple Bloom nodded, “If she’s really so shook up about her Aunts’ safety, then seein’ ‘em safe and in one piece is sure ta quiet those nightmares down!”

Unfortunately, her optimism wasn’t quite as infectious as it probably needed to be right now.

Sweetie Belle grimaced as she dared to imagine the worst outcome.

“What’ll happen to her if they aren’t okay, though?”

~

The Ponyville weather team was finally feeling merciful today. Their uneventful stroll through the town’s muddy main street so far was definitely an improvement over that wall of wind she and two of the girls had to fight their way through a couple days prior. Though the hustle and bustle in the commercial area was a bit much today, they at least got to the residential neighborhood they were looking for just fine. Rarity had heard from passerby’s that it wouldn’t be raining for another hour or so. Even then, the rain was supposed to be much lighter this time around.

“Perhaps I should just go with that glow in the dark mask idea I drafted yesterday?”

Unfortunately, Rarity was not in the mood to start counting her blessings. Especially when Stage Craft’s commission was still looming over her.

“But that’s not what he’s looking for.”, she realized. “Maybe one of those glass-bowl space helmets can work?”

The fashionista in her immediately stamped out that idea; one couldn’t get more tacky than that. Rarity’s gut had been telling her that she needed to figure out a good design for the mask first, then the rest of the costume would fall into place. After all, the most iconic piece of the phantom pony’s costume was always his mask. It’d be madness to not implement an equally striking piece of face wear in this new design. Unfortunately, no inspiration was coming to her.

“Why is this so much more challenging for me than it should be!? Is this a sign my degree in fashion design was all for nothing?”

Her mind would have gone on a much longer stream of self pity if her train of thought hadn’t been interrupted when she heard Apple Bloom speak.

“I dunno if ah wanna talk about Cindy right now.”

Upon hearing this unfamiliar name Rarity’s ear flicked to get a better listen to the girls behind her.

“Just hear me out.”, she heard her little sister say. “I promise I’m not gonna argue again about whether Roy did it.”

Without putting their walk to a halt, Rarity turned her head around to ask, “Who are Cindy and Roy?”

Those names of an unfamiliar tongue left Rarity’s mouth in an awkward manner.

The two fillies looked at Rarity like she had just caught them conspiring to prank her (again).

“Well…”, Sweetie began, her eyes shifting all over the place as if her surroundings would give her an answer.

“They’re… from a story we listened to last night.”, Apple Bloom quickly chimed in.

As Sweetie snapped her head towards Apple Bloom and practically told Apple Bloom to “shut the buck up” with just a single glare, Rarity quickly recalled the magic crystal ball she gave the girls back on Friday night.

“Oh, that’s nice. What was it about?”, Rarity asked as her gaze shifted away from them and back to the road ahead.

“Uhhh…”

Swiftly stepping in to save her friend the trouble, Sweetie spoke up, “It’s about a girl named Cindy who had… a bunch of cakes that were stolen from her.”

After Sweetie frantically finished that brilliant plot synopsis, Apple Bloom helped elaborate, “Yeah, it was somethin’ like forty cakes.”

That certainly got Rarity’s attention.

“Forty?”, she exclaimed, making eye contact with the fillies behind her once more. “Well that’s just terrible!”

The two girls felt relief wash over them in waves upon seeing she had bought it.

“So, what happened to them?”, Rarity asked.

“Oh, we didn’t get to finish it last night! It was getting late.”, Sweetie Belle quickly explained.

“I see. Well at least you three are finding the entertainment you need in Twilight’s device.”, the mare concluded, finally content to let the conversation end there.

Waiting a moment for her big sister’s attention to lapse, Sweetie Belle carefully whispered to Apple Bloom, “Gosh, you really are Applejack’s sister!”

Sensing the jab made at her for almost giving away what they’ve been secretly been watching, the farm filly shot back, “Ah was raised under the same roof as the Element of Honesty; we weren’t taught how ta lie good. What’s yer excuse?”

“Hey, Rarity is still none the wiser after that. So, I obviously did something right!”, she defended.

Apple Bloom sighed, “So, what were ya gonna ask me?”

Sweetie once again checked to see if anypony was listening.

“You know how we talked yesterday about how the human world has versions of us living in it?”, she said.

“Yeah?”

“If that’s the case, then shouldn’t that mean there’s versions of them living in Equestria?”

Apple Bloom took a second to consider this.

“Huh. Ah suppose yer right.”, she said, before something occurred to her. “Wait, so ya tried ta bring up Cindy… cuz you were wonderin’ if she was here in Equestria?”

“Yeah! I was wondering if you think she might be alive in our world.”

“Well shucks, ah dunno.”, the farm filly shrugged before tapping a hoof to her chin. “She definitely ain’t gonna have the same name she does in the human world, I bet. We’d probably have ta search every mental hospital in Equestria for any crazy mares who burned down their own house.”

Sweetie Belle scowled, miffed by her friend once again insinuating that Cindy was secretly creating disasters around herself.

“Hmph. I personally like to think she had a happy marriage and now lives as an old mare in a retirement home.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes before realizing that she had the option of getting a third opinion.

She turned to the orange pegasus right in front of her and asked, “Hey Scoots, what do ya think?”

The filly in question snapped out of her day dreaming.

“Huh?”

“Ah was wonderin’ where ya think Cindy James’ counterpart here in Equestria would be? What’s she be doin’?”

It took a second for what Apple Bloom said to register before Scootaloo finally responded.

“I’d guess she’s still a nurse in our world, probably. Maybe even a doctor.”, she said with a shrug.

Turning away to look out in the distance once again, Scootaloo was content to let the conversation die just as it was starting. The two other fillies noted how antsy the pegasus was, anxious even. Her eyes were simultaneously wide open and alert, yet blank and distant. The way she trotted also seemed to exude a sense of urgency, evidenced by how her much quicker strides put her ahead of her two friends. If one were to look closely, they’d see her efforts to pacify herself with deep breaths. These were signs that Scootaloo was picturing, perhaps even expecting, the worst; though she obviously hoped with every fiber of her being that this wouldn’t be the case.

To Apple Bloom, it looked like Scootaloo might explode at any moment if given enough time. Even though her friend’s troubles would be over soon, the farm filly honestly couldn’t stand looking at this any longer; she just needed to get Scootaloo to chill out. She frantically tried to think of a means to that end until her eyes fell upon the massive puddle on the ground ahead of them. It was then a smirk, like some sort of infection, grew and spread across her face. She then suddenly crouched down like a cat ready to pounce.

Both Scootaloo’s internal panicking and her walking were put to a halt by a big slash. While the rain coat, hat and boots that she was wearing gave cover to much of her body, her face was still left vulnerable. Getting over the shock of the splash, she immediately began snorting and spitting the water from her face. Once she was done spluttering and wiping the the water from her face with her foreleg, she looked with squinted eyes to where the splash came from. As her vision cleared, she began to see somepony to her left standing in the middle of a puddle and looking back at her.

It was when she registered that somepony as Apple Bloom did Scootaloo finally said, “What the hay is your problem!?”

Thankfully she didn’t say that loud enough for Rarity to hear. Part of the reason the mare hadn’t heard the splash or Scootaloo’s subsequent protest was because the three fillies had lagged significantly behind her. The other reason was that she was a little too lost in her own head at the moment to take notice. Apple Bloom, for her part, kept wearing that cheeky grin as she addressed Scootaloo.

“Only one way of gettin’ back at me for that.”

She hopped in place, splashing Scootaloo once again. Apple Bloom then hopped to the next puddle over where she made yet another big splash. For a second, Scootaloo continued to frown for a moment before suddenly returned with a mischievous smirk of her own. She took Apple Bloom’s invitation, galloping to the nearest puddle and practically canon balled into it, splashing the water all over the farm filly. Sweetie Belle had been looking upon all of this, absolutely perplexed. Not sure what to do, she then recalled the famous saying, “When in doubt, join them.”

Okay, that may have actually been an amalgamation of two different sayings, but it’s one she’s followed ever since she met both of her best friends. The little unicorn filly then hopped into the puddle nearest to her, creating a big splash of her own. It continued on like this for the three of them, leaping from one puddle to the next, trying to soak each other as much as possible. For a moment, Scootaloo allowed even herself to forget about the worries she’d been carrying with her on this trek through town. Unfortunately, that all came to a stop when Sweetie made one final splash.

“AHH!”

Upon hearing the shriek behind her, Sweetie immediately froze in place; her entire body went as stiff as a board. For a solid seven seconds she dare not turn around, as she could already tell what was awaiting her and she sure wouldn’t like it. Nevertheless, she still eventually did turn around, albeit as slowly and hesitantly as possible. As expected, her dinner plate-sized eyes were met with the sight of Rarity with her face both soaked and flushed red with fury, her mane now drooping and clinging to her shoulders. The mare was scowling at all three fillies, but, of course, being Sweetie’s older sister, her glare soon focused on just her.

“I can hardly believe that a few years ago you chided me for treating you like a foal.”, she said in the most composed manner she could manage, though a growl was occasionally sneaking through. “Yet here we are now and I must remind you to act your age!”

Like Apple Bloom, Scootaloo continued to watch Rarity scold Sweetie Belle like this for a little longer until she got bored. Allowing her eyes to wander elsewhere, she scanned the lively streets full of ponies excited to finally be exiting their homes; it had been even more busy on the main street though, filled with the hollering of shop and stand owners trying to make up for the abysmal, practically non-existent sales they had yesterday with everypony cooped inside. Scootaloo’s wandering gaze then froze upon spotting in the corner of her eye a rickety old shack sitting on the right side of the street on the path ahead of them. And the best part about this was that, in contrast to her worst fears, the shack was still intact through all the storms it had to weather.

“We’re here!”, she exclaimed, immediately galloping to the shack and began knocking as soon as she got the front door.

After leaving who knows how many taps on the door, she waited with her wings fully extended and her tail wagging uncontrollably. The others soon arrived and joined her in waiting… and waiting… and waiting… and more waiting for good measure. This gradually wiped the smile off Scootaloo’s face. The filly then began wondering if maybe her sense of relief was premature. Just when she was about knock on the door again, Rarity decided to do it for her. Giving the door four hefty knocks, they all waited once more…

Nothing.

Scootaloo called both of her aunts’ names, but it still yielded no reply.

Tilting her head, Apple Bloom wondered aloud, “Huh. Wonder what’s keepin’ ‘em?”

Sweetie Belle rubbed her chin for a few seconds before making a suggestion, “Do your aunts ever wear any noise canceling headphones, Scootaloo? Maybe that’s why they can’t hear us?”

Noise canceling headphones had in fact become necessities for her parents recently, especially when Sweetie invited her friends for sleepovers. She was amazed at what they were able to get away with while her parents slept with the aid of those things. They were even able to clean up the mess left behind by the storm cloud they stole so well that her parents couldn’t tell anything had ever went wrong upon waking up the next morning.

“I-I’ve never seen them wear anything like that to bed.”, the pegasus filly answered shakily.

Sensing Scootaloo’s unease, Rarity placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder, “Now, now. I’m sure they’re just outside shopping like everypony else in town now that the weather has cleared!”

Scootaloo felt her tense expression of anxiety ease into a more neutral face. Considering Rarity’s explanation, it actually made sense. Both of her aunts preferred to do their shopping on Saturday. Holiday liked to go on her Saturdays off work because it afforded her as much time she desired to try on new clothes, while Lofty liked to go on Saturdays because that was usually the day the shops had exotic materials she could use in her quilts. But since it violently stormed all day yesterday, they probably had to push their shopping day back a bit.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to get going right now, Scootaloo.”, Rarity said reluctantly as she took her hoof off the filly’s shoulder.

Scootaloo turned up to the unicorn mare and asked, “Will we be able to come back here again later to see if they got back?”

“No need to worry, we’ll be in and out of both the farm and the store in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

With that last line of reassurance, Rarity then began leading the way from the house to exit the neighborhood. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom immediately followed, but Scootaloo lingered at the front door for a little longer. She gazed at he shack with a simultaneous feeling of both anticipation and apprehension, not sure whether she should be afraid or excited to hopefully get a look inside. Of course, she couldn’t stand there for much longer. Apple Bloom called out to Scootaloo to hurry up and rejoin them, to which the pegasus filly immediately began galloping to catch up.

The journey to the Sweet Apple Acres turned out to a bit more difficult than expected. Somepony had apparently crashed their cart into a lamppost, knocking it down and blocking off the entire street. The pony pulling the cart wasn’t on scene, but according to bystanders they were apparently hauled off on a stretcher. So it wasn’t too much of an assumption to say that they were seriously injured at the minimum; they of course hoped that the injuries weren’t fatal or life-destroying. The ponies setting up the yellow tape told them they must take the longer route. Not knowing any teleportation spells, Rarity and the girls had no choice but to comply. Throughout the entire walk, Scootaloo thought about the possibility that Aunt Lofty and Holiday still aren’t home when they check the shack later; what would that mean? Rarity, for her part, spent the walk hoping they would accomplish what they needed to before the rain came back.

“Fifty five buckets of oats on the wall, fifty five buckets of oats…”

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom was privately wishing that they were there by now, just so that she wouldn’t have to listen to more “99 Buckets of Oats”. Even sung by somepony as vocally gifted as Sweetie Belle, the song could only be tolerated for so long. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait much longer. In the very next moment, she soon saw the entrance to her family’s farm on the horizon.

“There’s the farm!”, Apple Bloom exclaimed before sprinting into full gallop.

The other two fillies quickly followed her example, galloping in their bet efforts to catch up to their friend. Rarity was content to speed up her pace to a faster yet non-strenuous canter rather than pointlessly expend energy trying to run at their pace. Apple Bloom wasn’t sure why she felt like running other than maybe being eager to get a look at her home which she wouldn’t be seeing until the end of this week. She closed her eyes and really breathed in the pleasant, natural odor of the orchard. However, she still hadn’t opened her eyes upon releasing her hearty sigh of satisfaction. She honestly didn’t feel like she needed to; she knew the path like the back of her hoof after all.

“Apple Bloom look out!”

Before Apple Bloom even had time to process Scootaloo’s warning, her legs were taken out from underneath her and she was forced into a somersault that ended with the poor filly landing roughly on her back, knocking the wind out of her.

Letting out a few meek coughs, upon opening her eyes Apple Bloom was greeted by the sight of her two friends standing over her. Scootaloo was visibly wincing, her exposed teeth clenched as she inhaled with a hiss. Sweetie had her mouth covered with a hoof, but just when she removed it to say something, Rarity dashed into frame.

“Oh my goodness Apple Bloom! Are you alright!?”

“Ah’m fine.”, she breathlessly answered.

“Oh Celestia! You’re bleeding!”, Rarity squeaked.

Apple Bloom’s mind shot out of its state of lethargy like a canon ball and into a new state of panic. Whatever the injury was, judging by Rarity’s tone it must have been pretty bad. She sprang her head up from the ground into a seating position.

“Where!? Where!?!”, she said as she whipped and jerked her head around in search of her injury.

Rarity felt completely foolish for what she had just said. Her habit of going into theatrics really could make a bad situation a little bit worse sometimes. Needing the little filly to calm down, she grabbed onto both of her shoulders.

“Apple Bloom, calm down.”, she said in a steady voice. “I need you to hold still for a second.”

Apple Bloom took a deep breath and did as she was told. Rarity grabbed hold of both of her cheeks to make the filly face her. She then looked at the two streams of blood very slowly traveling down her forehead and followed them up to the source. She pushed back Apple Bloom’s hair to reveal the gash at the top of her forehead. Studying it closely, she was relieved that it appeared to be not as bad as she initially assumed, certainly not fatal. Though she definitely needed to take care of it immediately if she didn’t want the farm filly suffering an infection.

“Does your family keep a medical kit in the house?”, Rarity asked.

Apple Bloom took a second to breathe in one more time, before nodding.

“Excellent!”, she said before taking the filly by the hoof and helping her up. “Perhaps you could show me where it is?”

“Sure, Miss Rarity.”

The two then began making their way up the path, Rarity continuing to Apple Bloom’s hoof as they headed straight to the Apple family’s house. Both Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo began following the two. However, the latter was looking behind her as she trotted. At first her eyes caught a blood covered stone on the ground, almost certainly the one that Apple Bloom cut her face on while she was forced into somersaulting. But she found her sight constantly drawing back to the thing that made Apple Bloom trip in the first place.

Blocking the path to go in and out of Sweet Apple Acres was a tree that had fallen over. No leaves or fruits were left on its branches; some of their remains could be seen scattered around the tree, matching it’s charred and blackened state. The outer bark could be easily peeled off and judging by the look of the stump behind from where the tree fell from, the insides suffered a lot of burning as well. It was already pretty obvious what had happened, but the lightning bolt-shaped streak of sizzled tree sap and exposed inner bark was the biggest give away. Good thing the rain was apparently powerful enough to dampen the fire and keep it from spreading to the other trees.

Scootaloo turned her face away from the fallen tree to look forward where she was heading. She’d already seen one pony suffer for not looking where they were going, she was not about to wind up like her friend just did. When she decided to look down at the ground in front of her, she was taken aback by the sight of something, or the shadow of something, zooming across it from the left to right. With how fast this silhouette passed over, she couldn’t make out much features but she could definitely tell it had wings, a very big wingspan all things considered. In fact, that silhouette seemed to indicate a creature that was massive, bigger than any bird she knew of. Unless this creature was actually of average size and had flown only a few feet above her. But Scootaloo felt that was impossible, given that she should have heard it flapping its wings if that were the case.

Scootaloo zipped her head to look above, but saw nothing. Not a living thing could be seen in the sky, and whatever this flying creature was must have been a really good hider for its size, because she couldn’t find in the trees around her either. The filly continued to puzzle over this. For some reason, the more she tried to think about this, her mind kept digging up Apple Bloom’s accident, the struck down tree, the cart accident that happened in the center of town and her parents seemingly having gone M.I.A. for whatever reason. She wasn’t sure why her brain fixated on these seemingly unrelated events. Still, why did they all have to happen today?

Ghosts of the London Underground

The chill, white beams of the moon shined between an increasingly narrow parting in the clouds, providing an extra source of illumination through Sweetie Belle’s window upstairs in Carousel Boutique. Scootaloo looked out at this moonlit night, reflecting on the day she’d had. With how much time was lost bandaging Apple Bloom’s head up, they barely had enough time to pick up the milk, especially with how packed the store was. It was already drizzling outside by the time they got out of there, and Rarity needed to get Apple Bloom out of the rain as soon as possible if she didn’t want the rain ruining her bandages. Unfortunately, this meant that they couldn’t go back to check her Aunt’s rental shack to see if they returned.

Scootaloo continued to watch the clouds slowly close in on each other until they completely obscured the moon and it’s light. She turned around to see her friends in the middle of selecting their first “bedtime story” of the night. Apple Bloom, with those bandages still wrapped around her head, covered her own eyes and let Sweetie scroll through the list as if today had been no different from the last two days. The pegasus filly then looked back down at her math homework, only a few questions left. As Scootaloo hastily jotted down her best guesses, the other two finished picking a tale.

“Alright, ya can stop Sweetie.”, Apple Bloom said.

Removing her forehoof from her eyes, Apple Bloom read the title.

“Ghosts of the London Underground.”

Scootaloo paused on the last math problem, “Uhhh… ghosts?”

“Yeah. We got ourselves a ghost story.”, Apple Bloom answered.

Scootaloo tensed. There were few things in this world that she feared (at least, that’s what she liked to tell herself). But ghosts like the headless horse scared her senseless just to think about. Meanwhile, the other two sat their pillows on the floor and proceeded to lay their heads down on them. Scootaloo decided to put her pencil down, grab her pillow and join in. She was not going to draw accusations of chickening out a story anytime tonight. Once Scootaloo settled in, Sweetie finally clicked the story.

The video opened on some sort of tunnel. One that was obviously not naturally made, given its perfectly circular structure and the walking platform it had on the right. The lights that were lining the walls on the right side provided just enough for the Crusaders to notice the wires hanging from the ceiling and left wall. These were all enough clues to give away the story’s setting, an underground subway railroad. It’s a very recent phenomenon exclusive only to Manehattan, but supposedly that was no longer going to be the case. The mayor of Fillydelphia had recently announced that he had plans to construct a subway network under the city. This had the side effect of reigniting the ongoing feud he had with his older brother, the mayor of Manehattan, who made accusations that Fillydelphia was becoming a “cheap imitation of Equestria’s greatest city”.

The narrator began by describing how the “underground” has been at the center of London’s transportation infrastructure for almost a century and a half.

Sweetie Belle whistled, “These humans must have been around way longer than us!”

“Sheesh, why are we SO behind compared to these guys?”, Scootaloo puzzled, scratching the top of her head.

During that time, it has played host to many historical events. From sheltering civilians in the Second World War to being a target in the 2005 London terrorist attacks.

“We just can’t get away from World War Two, can we?”, Apple Bloom remarked.

Given how many people have lost their lives in these tunnels, could their souls remain as ghosts of the London Underground?

Apple Bloom tapped a hoof to her chin, “Ah wonder, if there’s any ghost stories about the Manehattan subway?”

“Doesn’t that require more of a history?”, Sweetie Belle asked. “Manehattan subway is still kind of new.”

“So, what? Ya think nopony’s died there in the ten years it’s existed?”, the farm filly rebutted.

After saying that, the farm filly decided that this was a question best for her next letter to Babs. Scootaloo privately hoped Sweetie Belle was right; the last thing she wanted was to be afraid of entering the subway stations next time she went to Manehattan.

As the intro faded out, the three fillies were shown a man in a suit with a pair of glasses and a very buzzed down haircut. He stood at a desk which had on top of it one of those telephone thingies sat between two bulky, square-shaped devices with pitch-black glass screens from the looks of it.

“What are all those little papers he’s counting?”, Scootaloo wondered, before considering that they were possibly train tickets.

As the human kept counting the day’s earnings, the narrator described him as Steve Coates, whom had a fairly relaxed work day. His shift had started at 10 pm and besides the inevitable rush of commuters in the last stretch before the tube station closed, the early hours of this midweek morning had been quiet. As the supervisor of Liverpool Street Station in Central London, Coates now busied himself in the ticket office, cashing up the tills and carrying out any number of other mundane administrative tasks. He much preferred the relative peace and quiet of the night shifts compared to the hustle and bustle of the daytime, even if they did seem to pass by more slowly. There was a strange sense of priviness to having such a large public space all to himself; a tranquility he otherwise rarely got to experience. Sweetie considered trying out a night owl lifestyle once she was old enough to make her own sleep schedules; if for no other reason than just to see what it’s like.

On the desk in front of him, the phone began to ring, shattering the silence.

“He musta not been too happy about that.”

Getting two perplexed stares from her friends, Apple Bloom further elaborated.

“Ya ever interrupt a grownup durin’ their moment of peace and quiet? They get real grouchy.”

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle then began nodding in understanding. The former recalled the numerous times she woke up Rainbow Dash from her naps. The latter winced at the memory of when Rarity had to cancel her spa day mid-visit after receiving a message about her little sister getting in trouble with the haydog stand owner.

Picking up the receiver, the familiar voice of the line controller - who was stationed offsite - told Steve that he was looking at the CCTV feed from the east-bound platform of Liverpool Street and that he could see a man down there standing near the tunnel entrance. Steve Coates, the station supervisor checked his watch. It was just after 2 am. The gates to the station had been closed and padlocked almost three hours beforehand, so there shouldn’t have been anyone besides him inside the station itself. As Scootaloo felt shiver dread come over her, Steve told the line controller that he would go down and check and then hung up.

The next image showed Coates down in the tunnel’s platform, flashlight shining bright, doing a thorough sweep of the area after having been taken down there by “escalator”. The trio of fillies found themselves wondering why he would need to take this so-called “escalator” when there seemed to be a perfectly usable set of stairs right behind him. As he reached the east-bound tunnel entrance, he took out his torch and shone it onto the tracks receding into the pitch dark of the subway. He also checked the line immediately below the platform as he made his way back, but there was no one there. At the bottom of the escalators, there was a public phone.

“Wait, so the escalators are those stairs?”, Scootaloo asked. “Is that what they call them in their world?”

“Ah coulda sworn ah heard ‘em just called stairs in some other story we watched.”, Apple Bloom said.

Steve used this public phone to call the line controller back and tell him that he had carried a thorough search and found the platform to be secure. However, the line controller’s response didn’t make any sense. As the controller’s reply was played, the illustration showed a blurry, out of focus white figure materialize into view.

“I can see you on the monitor right now. I can see the tunnel’s entrance; he’s standing right there. He’s wearing white overalls.”, the controller said over the phone.

Scootaloo once again experienced that now all too familiar feeling of her hair standing up on the back of her neck. She then gulped as a means of releasing her tension quickly, a sort of pacifying behavior. Confused, Steve agreed to take another look, leaving the phone hanging with the controller on the other end of the line. He went off and performed another search, but still the platform was completely empty. The illustration visually undercut the narrator’s words, showing Steve shining his light directly on the ghostly figure. Though he was still completely unfazed, as if the man was invisible to him. The figure then disappeared from the viewers’ sight after Steve turned off his light and made his way back to the phone.

“There’s no one else here,” he said to his colleague when he got back to the phone, but the line controller was having none of it.

“How did you not see him? He was standing right next to you. He was wearing white overalls, you shone your torch right at him for several seconds. There is no way you couldn’t have seen him!”

“Either you’re winding me up or there is a glitch on your screen,”, Steve replied. “I’ve done two sweeps now, and I’m telling you there is no one else here!”

“What would you assume was actually happening if you were in Steve’s place?”, Sweetie Belle asked both of her friends.

Scootaloo tried to think of what Rainbow would probably do.

“I’d probably guess that somepony is just messing with me.”, she said, relieved that she didn’t have to admit that she’d would’ve automatically lost her cool after assuming it was a ghost.

“Right…”, Apple Bloom said in a skeptical tone as she eyed the pegasus. “Well, ah would probably make the same assumption.”

“I don’t know.”, Sweetie said. “I think I would give the controller the benefit of the doubt. If there really is some magic in the human world, then maybe someone is using it to make themselves invisible.”

“If they’re invisible, then why does the controller still see them?”, asked Scootaloo.

“Maybe it only works on someone’s eyes but they can still show up on camera?”, Sweetie suggested.

With that he put the phone down and turned to go back up the escalators, when something made him stop in his tracks. On the bench to his right, he saw something draped over the seat and arm rest. Shining his torch at it revealed it to be a set of white overalls which were definitely not there before.

“Don’t pick them up, don’t pick them up, don’t pick them up!”, Scootaloo ravenously repeated in her own head.

Surprisingly, the other two held similar sentiments, feeling that inspecting those overalls or touching might be asking for trouble; it was best to just get out of there instead. A sudden chill went up Coates’ spine as he quickened his pace and made his way back up to the ticket office. He didn’t know it at the time, but he had just had a run in with the famous Liverpool Street ghost. Though she knew what the narrator meant, Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but wonder if this ghost was just as famous amongst the dead as they are among the living. Like, does a ghosts’ “street cred” increase the more living beings they scare?

The story then cut to what appeared to be one of the London Underground’s entrances, closed off by some sort of striped belt stanchion. The narrator then began explaining how the London Underground was opened in 1890, making it the human world’s oldest subway system. It was said that each year 1.3 billion people pass through its 270 stations, which are collectively manned by nearly 6000 members of staff. The Crusaders all felt their eyes widen in shock upon hearing that statistic. It wasn’t enough that these humans vastly surpassed them in technological advancement, but apparently they dwarf them in population size as well. The number of humans going through London Underground alone was almost half the entire population of sapient creatures on the planet Equis where they lived.

“They’re… fudgin’ those numbers somehow, right?”, Apple Bloom asked rhetorically with a hint of uncertainty.

Most of the passengers who take the subway do so without a second thought, completely oblivious to the history which surrounds them.

“Ugh, that line sounds like something our history teacher says on our field trips.”, Scootaloo grumbled.

“Ah don’t think our trips are so bad. Sure is a change of pace from bein’ stuck in the classroom.”, Apple Bloom countered.

Sweetie Belle sighed, “I guess. But Mr. Yesteryear’s talent really does seem to be finding the boring in the exciting.”

It was true. Despite their middle school booking objectively interesting field trip destinations, their teacher still found it necessary to tediously detail the most pointless aspects of the place. Some of the places that they’ve gone to on their trips include a castle in Trottingham that famously fought off a dragon, an abandoned earth pony village from the pre-unification days that was devastated by a plague, an old theater where one of Equestria’s greatest playwrights did her best work, and a shipyard that housed the largest armada in history before it was sent off to do battle with the Kelpies. Yet, every time the whole class was ready to fall asleep by the time he got to the interesting parts.

The narrator continued explaining that the ground in which this subway system was built has been settled upon for millennia. From the Underground’s initial inception right up to the present day, there have been thousands of accidental deaths, suicides and tragic events, not to mention the amount of graveyards, cemeteries, plague pits and church crypts which have been disrupted or relocated during its construction. Add all these together and the number of potentially disturbed souls begins to soar. Apple Bloom once again thought back to her school’s field trip to that ancient earth pony village. She remembered Mr. Yesteryear explaining how back in the day when a devastating disease broke out in the earth pony nation, towns would be overwhelmed by the amount of cadavers they suddenly had on their hooves. They had to make entirely new mass graves on the fly, which they also called plague pits; they actually visited the village’s plague pit that day.

For the average commuter, the day-to-day experience of riding down the tube is one of over-crowded chaos, especially in the headache-inducing rush hour. For Scootaloo, this resurrected an unpleasant memory of one of her many trips to see Rainbow Dash’s Wonderbolts performances.

“Grrr! Don’t talk to me about rush hour, please!”, Scootaloo growled. “It was freakin’ impossible to make my way through Cloudsdale during its rush hour!”

While the other two fillies wondered how traffic was a problem in a town where everypony flies, the narrator talked about how those passing through the Underground would discover an entirely different world if they were able to visit any one of the many station during the midnight hours long after closing. One which is mostly peaceful but can also be unnerving, haunting and downright eerie.

“Mac says that’s exactly what the farm is like for him when the rest of us ain’t around or are sleepin’.”, Apple Bloom remarked. “Says he always treasures it, though.”

“Kind of like how my dad really values his time on the toilet.”, Sweetie muttered quietly.

The narrator then declared that he would be just some of the stories told by those who work on the London Underground. The screen cut to an incredibly rotund human with a mustache and suit and tie sitting in a booth. The man, named Tariq Rana, was the supervisor of Becontree Station who was working a late shift after closing down for the night. He was just finishing off some final paperwork and then planned to head home. On the right side of the office in which he was sitting, there was a door which led up to the overground District Line platform. In the relative silence, the door began to rattle, but Tariq thought nothing of it.

Scootaloo frowned, “I really hope that didn’t turn out to be the last mistake he ever made.”

Rattling doors were a frequent occurrence due to the up and down drafts created by passing trains, so he simply assumed that a train was approaching on the District Line.

Sweetie Belle grimaced, “Coco Pommel would be able to talk to anypony about that all day.”

“Ain’t that the mare who helps run Rarity’s shop in Manehattan?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“Yeah.”, Sweetie answered. “One time she was having a chat with Rarity here at Carousel Boutique, she got into a super scary rant about how the trains passing by her apartment break her concentration, cause stuff to fall off the counter and break on the floor, and even how it keeps her from getting a good sleep.”

As the memory of the uncharacteristically intense raving from the usually demure mare came flooding back to Sweetie, the other two went back to listening to the narrator. He described how a few minutes later, when the door rattled a second time, Rana was sure he would soon hear the sound of carriages passing above and to the right of him. However, that sound never materialized. Confused, he made his way through the door and up on to the District Line platform to see what was going on. Looking up and down the tracks, he could see that no trains were approaching from either the left or right.

Even though he could feel no breeze on the night air, he reasoned that the rattling must have been caused by the wind and headed back down to the office to finish up, but no sooner had he closed the door behind him when it rattled a third time. This time though, it was much more sustained. Unnerved by this bizarre occurrence, he decided to heap up to the station foyer, where another member of staff was working. As he stepped out onto the disused subway platform and began to make his way up the steps, he suddenly experienced an intense feeling that someone was standing behind him.

Scootaloo, as quickly and discreetly as she could manage, turned her head back to get a look behind her. Then, just as quickly, she turned it back around and for a second it felt like nopony had noticed. That is, until she looked to her right to see Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looking back at her, snickering all the while. The pegasus filly sighed and went back to watching the story, not even making an effort to hide the very slight tinge of a blush that formed on her cheeks. The universe really did seem to have a bone to pick with her lately; so, of course, it couldn’t allow her to avoid embarrassment for once.

Turning his head, Tariq saw the terrifying image a woman with long blonde hair and a long, old-fashioned dress a few steps further down from where he was. All three fillies let out a small, involuntary gasp when their eyes fell upon the woman’s face… or lack of a face, more accurately; every part where her facial features were supposed to be was left entirely blank. Sweetie Belle slowly raised her hoof and placed it upon her cheek. If that was what happened to someone if they became a ghost, she somehow wanted to be a ghost even less than she already did, if that was even possible. Being a lost soul cursed to roam the place of your death for eternity was bad enough. But to her, being left completely unrecognizable on top of that would be the rotten cherry on top.

Utterly shaken, Tariq turned and ran up to the station foyer, taking three steps at a time. When they met, his colleague remarked how he looked like he had seen a ghost.

Tariq replied by saying, “I think I just have.”

His co-worker’s response was, “Did you see the blonde woman with no face?”

“Oh boy. It has a reputation.”, Apple Bloom stated with both anticipation and apprehension.

While this meant that they’d probably be getting an interesting backstory on this spirit, the backstory and subsequent actions of this woman during her afterlife might turn out to be stomach-turning to learn about.

Apparently, in 1958, there was a train collision at this station on the District Line, which killed ten people and Tariq was not the only person to have seen the blonde lady of Becontree.

“So, were they implying she was one of the passengers on that train when it crashed back then?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“What else would they be implyin’, Sweetie?”, Apple Bloom responded incredulously.

The story cut to an image of two sets of those escalator stairs that were mentioned earlier, set in a station twelve miles west of Becontree at Hyde Park Corner, one of the most central stops on the network. Back in November of 1978, Barry Oakley was working the night shift, long after the last train had left. He and a colleague had shut the escalators down by removing the corresponding circuit breakers in the control room.

With her mouth hanging slightly open and one eyebrow raised, Scootaloo asked, “Why would stairs need machine parts in the first place? What do these do that’s different?”

They had then returned to the supervisor’s office to continue their administrative tasks. At around 2:30 in the morning, they heard an almighty commotion outside, which sounded like grinding gears mixed with a rhythmic knocking. Running out to the foyer, the two men stared in bewilderment at the escalator that they had previously shut down was now running again but making a “hell”(?) of a racket in the process. Sweetie Belle tilted her head slightly at the sight before her.

“Are those stairs moving?”, she asked.

“Why would they need stairs that carry you down to the bottom for?”, Scootaloo wondered before adding, “Seems a bit lazy, honestly.”

“Actually, ah think Granny Smith woulda loved havin’ these”, Apple Bloom remarked. “What with her back aches and bad legs n’ such.”

The farm filly’s smile slowly curved downward into a small frown as she was reminded of the fact that she can no longer get her grandma’s opinions on things like this; now that the old mare was no longer in the picture. Apple Bloom then immediately tried to bring her attention back to the story. She preferred to think about Granny Smith only for small bits at a time these days.

The running escalators came as a complete shock to the two men. As far as they were aware, once the circuit breakers had been removed, it was impossible for the escalators to run, as there was no power going to them. Not only that, but it would require a special key to start back up again. After a brief investigation, in which they found the circuit breaker was still removed, they managed to shut the escalator down once more and then returned to the office. Barry would later say that during this whole time, he had a sense that someone else was there with them besides himself and his colleague. After settling back into his paper work, he happened to glance across to his co-worker and saw that he was standing with his back flat against the office wall, pale faced and clearly in some sort of trance.

Scootaloo as well as the other two girls tensed up. After seeing the creepy faceless girl, they were pretty apprehensive about how it might escalate from that. The pegasus filly had a bad feeling this next one might not just be faceless, but headless even. Maybe even carrying its own severed head in it hands. Sort of like a certain headless spirit she was already familiar with.

Barry’s initial thought was that the man was having a seizure, as he was completely unresponsive.

“Ah actually think ah would rather have ta deal with a hauntin’ than deal with somepony with a seizure.”, Apple Bloom commented.

Scootaloo turned to look at the farm filly in confusion, “Huh? Why?”.

“Do ya know what ta do when somepony has a seizure? Cuz ah sure don’t.”, she answered simply.

After several minutes, the co-worker came back to his senses and with a haunted look he said, “Did you see the face?”.

“Uh oh.”, Sweetie thought before using her eyes to scan the illustration and see if a face had in fact come into view.

Apparently, as the two had been sitting there working away, a hideous face had appeared at the office window and stared at both of them. As the narrator said this, the ghost’s face finally materialized into view. All three fillies could feel their heartbeats increase for a moment at the sight of this ghost’s empty black eye sockets and its big “grin”. What at first they thought might have been a burlap sack placed over the ghost’s head like a mask turned out to be the an entire, leathery layer of skin with a few dumps of hair still up top covering the skull. Barry’s colleague went home shortly after this encounter and never returned to that particular station.

After the screen cut to a worker in a hard hat shining his flashlight down the dark railroad tunnel, the story began talking about one of the most “unenviable” jobs on the London Underground, track walking. Track Walkers are required to patrol the tunnels at night, long after the trains have stopped, usually moving from one station to another. They do this alone and completely in the dark, with only a “battery”(?) powered torch to light the way. Upon hearing the description of this job, all three fillies shared the exact same thoughts about it.

“No way would I ever take that job.”, Scootaloo said, giving voice to their collective consensus.

“Same.”, Sweetie Belle agreed.

Then they both heard a chuckle coming from next to them. Turning to the source of the noise, they saw Apple Bloom covering her pleasant smile with her hoof, trying to suppress her giggles. It didn’t seem to be born out of any perceived hilarity though. Rather, it appeared more nostalgic in nature when judging by the look in her eyes.

“What are you laughing about?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“It’s nothin’.”, Apple Bloom answered. “Ah was just thinkin’ about how if we were watchin’ this a few years ago, we’d all wanna try ta see if we can get cutie marks for bein’ track walkers.”

They all shared a light-hearted giggle, paradoxically remembering those days fondly while also being glad they were behind them. During their moment of reminiscence, the story began following a veteran track walker of twenty years named Bill McCown. On one particular occasion, he was walking the Jubilee Line between the stations of Finchley and Charring Cross, a distance of about eight miles. He decided to take a break on a stretch of track between Baker’s Street and St. John’s Wood. He had been sitting down for about two minutes when he heard a strange sound off to his right. Shining his torch in that direction, he couldn’t see anything, but then he suddenly noticed that the ballast between the tracks was suddenly moving.

“What’s ballast?”, Sweetie Belle questioned.

“You don’t know what ballast is, lil’ Miss dictionary?”, Apple Bloom puzzled.

With a roll of her eyes, Sweetie once again asked, this time in a tone riddled with snide.

“Well, do you know the answer then?”

Shrugging, Apple Bloom proceeded to explain.

“Ballast is anythin’ that’s suppose ta help keep a structure together and make it more stable. Here, the ballast is a bunch a stones underneath the tracks that helps keep it in place.”

Satisfied with explanation, Sweetie and her friends went back to watching the story. As the commotion moved closer to him, McCown could hear footsteps walking past and, in the torchlight, he could see the ballast sinking down with each step. Dumbfounded by what he was witnessing, Bill later reported that he felt a tingling sensation, like static all through his body as it drew level with him. It carried on past him for about ten meters, and then stopped. The three fillies looked on as footprints formed in the gravel of the tracks in front of McCown, with no person visible to be leaving them in the first place.

Sitting in complete silence once more, Bill contemplated that he had to continue walking in that same direction in order to finish his patrol, which he did, with no small amount of trepidation.

In a now familiar scene, when the track walker reached Charing Cross station, his supervisor remarked on how pale he looked.

Bill responded with, “You’re not going to believe what just happened!”.

But before he could explain, his supervisor quickly cut him off and said, “Don’t tell me; you’ve seen footprints in the ballast.”

“Huh… just like the guy who saw the faceless lady.”, Sweetie Belle thought.

Bill was not the first person to have witnessed the phenomenon and he wouldn’t be the last. Records show that a track walker suffered a fatal heart attack whilst patrolling that same stretch of the Jubilee Line many years before. Scootaloo had snapped from her constant shaking after something strange occurred to her about the whole situation.

“So, wait. This guy is supposed to been working here as track walker for years and years, but everyone except him had heard of these ghost footprints during all that time?”, she asked, perplexed.

Apple Bloom raised a hoof to her chin, “Hmm. That is a bit weird.”

“Maybe he did work for years as track walker.”, Sweetie chimed in. “But this might have been one of his first night working at this railway.”

As the story proceeded to transition to an image of the inside of a subway passenger cart, the narrator described how Kennington station is one of the most haunted in the network. More unexplained phenomena is said to be reported there than anywhere else, thanks to a section of track known as Kennington Loop. Sweetie Belle’s very silly unspoken question about whether or not it was like a roller coaster loop got answered when it was explained that the loop exists to allow southbound trains to turn around and head north again. Passengers are cleared out at Kennington Station, before the empty trains are sent into the loop, where they will often have to wait for up to twenty minutes in the 150-year-old tunnels. And whilst they are waiting, there is no way anyone can get on or off the train.

All three Crusaders were shocked by that last detail.

“What!?”, Apple Bloom exclaimed, both arms extended out fully as she gestured at the screen. “So, if a fire breaks out on that train while it’s in the loop, you’re screwed!?”

“Why do I get the feeling this caused the death of the next ghost we’re going to learn about?”, Sweetie Belle rhetorically asked.

Caught in one of those moments where one feels inexplicably compelled to play Grogar’s advocate, she decided to offer a counter.

“I’m sure those humans have probably installed a gadget and gizmo for every scenario on their trains.”

After brushing her hoof through her mane from front to back and puffing her chest out, she continued.

“Plus, if you two are so scared of getting trapped in a little train carriage, I’ll totally lead us out of trouble like I always do!”, she declared.

Scootaloo’s friends looked upon her and her self-satisfied face like an over inflated balloon ready to be popped. And luckily for Sweetie Belle, she had the right needle for the job.

“OW!”

The orange pegasus covered her right eye after Sweetie’s crumpled up ball of paper hit its target.

Bob Cairn and Larry de Larrabeiti both worked on the Northern Line; Bob was a driver and Larry was a guard. Larry describes how, many years ago, he was working on a train that had been sent into the loop. There had been an incident further up the line, which meant that he and his driver were stuck there for about ten minutes. Sitting in the rearmost carriage, he heard the unmistakable sound further up the train of the interconnecting doors between each car opening. It was getting closer and closer until finally the doors to his carriage opened and he turned expecting to see his driver, but there was nobody there. Similarly, Bob also heard the sound of the doors opening at the front end of the train and he turned expecting to see his colleague but was greeted by dead air.

“Wait, so which direction is this ghost coming from?”, Sweetie Belle wondered.

“Uhh… it might be comin’ from both ways… somehow.”, Apple Bloom replied.

“Or there’s more than one ghost.”, Scootaloo added nervously.

The twist in this tale is that Bob and Larry were on different trains; their experiences took place four years apart from each other and the two men have never met.

“Wha?”

“Huh!?”

“The buck!?”

Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom each respectively voiced their utter confusion.

The story goes that a passenger had been killed at Kennington fifty years beforehand whilst trying to board the train between carriages. His body was dragged into the loop. None of the fillies wanted to picture the outcome of that, they didn’t need such a mental image.

“So, wait. Was it saying one of them was the ghost?”, Sweetie asked.

“Nah. Ah think they were just two unrelated guys who both encountered the same ghost.”, Apple Bloom answered. “Just at different times.”

“Well, what was the point of that?”, Scootaloo asked.

This action by the narrator reminded Sweetie of yet another one of their instructors; their literature teacher this time. She always liked to insert random twists and deviations of the story she was reading to the class. If she had to guess, Sweetie would say she probably does this to keep everypony on the tips of their hooves or make sure they’re paying attention.

The narrator continued, remarking how the London Underground seemed to be steeped in stories of the unexplained. Almost every station appears to exhibit its own strange phenomena or has its own resident ghost, sometimes several. There was so much more to tell, from the accounts regarding the “Nun”(?) of Bank Monument Station, to the phantom maintenance man of South Island Place. From the crying children of Bethnal Green to the demonic presence which stalks a disused tunnel at Embankment. Not to mention the strange activity often witnessed at the fifteen abandoned stations still attached to the network. The narrator expressed to the audience his interest in revisiting this subject in the near future.

“That sure does sound like it could be a mite good three parter.”, Apple Bloom confessed. “Ah am awful curious about all that other stuff they just mentioned.”

The narrator then began to wonder if there was an explanation for what people were experiencing in the London Underground. Unfortunately, very little exists in the way of proof. Over the years, some very interesting images have been taken, but like so many pictures of so-called ghosts, they are inconclusive; what’s left is mostly anecdotal accounts.

“Yeah, like the photo of that so-called white ghost at that tomb in Saddle Arabia.”, said Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo turned to her and crossly declared, “That was absolutely a ghost and you know it! What else glows like that during daytime?”

“Ah keep tellin’ ya, that was from the photo bein’ overexposed!”, the farm filly shot back. “For Celestia’s sake, we used ta take pictures for our school newspaper, remember? Y’all should know stuff like this!”

As the two continued arguing, the narrator went on to discussing a study from within the last decade conducted by Coventry University. It uncovered high levels of infrasound in many of the alleged hotspots. However, whilst this might account for feelings of unease or auditory anomalies, it would rarely, if ever, result in hallucinations of full-bodied apparitions. Sweetie Belle grew intrigued by this. She’d certainly heard of things like enchanted instruments being able to alter a pony’s mind, but she never knew that naturally-occurring sound could have similar effects.

Whatever the case may be, whether people really are seeing the spirits of those who have tragically lost their lives in these tunnels, or are simply repeating well-established ghost stories for their fifteen minutes of fame, it is probably best to approach the London Underground with an open mind. According to the narrator, more often than not, it is the people who expect to see something who witness nothing at all and those who expect to see nothing who end up having a life-changing experience.

“Well, when ya put it like that, it sounds like ghosts are real… real jerks that is.”, Apple Bloom concluded.

After sharing a good chuckle at Apple Bloom’s joke, Sweetie Belle turned to Scootaloo and said, “Alright, Scoots. Your turn at scrolling through the list is long overdue.”

She levitated the pen to Scootaloo, who took it in her mouth without protest.

“Actually, Scoots. Could ya check if there’s any more parts to this video before we decide to pick a different one?”, Apple Bloom requested.

“Uhh… sure.”, the pegasus filly said with the pen still between her teeth.

Of course, she didn’t let them know just how badly she hoped that a second part hadn’t been made. She really didn’t want to watch more than one ghost video tonight.

Author's Note

Do any of you wish Bedtimes Stories would do more videos on the London Underground?

The Lair of the Wendigo

Scootaloo quietly sighed to herself out of relief. After quickly scanning through every story on the list taking place after the one they just watched, she found that there had not been a second part. Unless Sweetie’s turn at randomly selecting the next story turned out really unlucky, it looked like there would be no more ghost stories tonight for this little scooterist.

“Sorry, girls. There’s no part two.”, she announced with a barely contained smile.

“Aw shucks.”, Apple Bloom said with a frown.

Sweetie Belle sighed in disappointment.

“Oh well.”, the unicorn filly said before covering her eyes with one forehoof while the other pointed directly at projected screen. “Start scrolling down, Scoots.”

The pegasus filly did as she was told, using the pen in her mouth to scroll down through the list of stories until finally being told to stop. She was still basking in her sense of relief a minute ago, until she heard her friend read the title.

“The Lair of the Wendigo”.

Both Apple Bloom’s and Scootaloo’s ears perked up and twitched slightly upon being greeted by that familiar word.

“Pardon?”, Apple Bloom puzzled. “Did ya just say Windigos?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

“What do you mean sort of?”, Scootaloo asked with a raised eyebrow, now having dropped the pen.

Still looking at the screen, Sweetie squinted her eyes as she explained.

“It looks like it isn’t spelled the way it usually is. Here it’s spelled Wen-digo, instead of Win-digo.”

“Think it’s a typo?”, Scootaloo suggested.

“Who knows?”, Apple Bloom replied. “Personally, ah’m still thinkin’ about how surprisin’ it is that these humans apparently dealt with Windigos too.”

“Yeah.”, Sweetie Belle agreed. “I guess if their world is an alternate version of ours, who knows how many monsters in our world exist in human legend?”

Something about that question by her friend made something click in Scootaloo’s head. As the implication of Sweetie’s question further sank in, a dreadful thought raised itself to the forefront of Scootaloo’s mind.

“If our world’s monsters really do exist only as myth in the human world, does that mean every mythical monster we see in these stories… exists here for real?”

The longer she continued to dwell on this thought, the stranger she began to feel. More and more, these feelings were enveloping her; almost literally, in fact. It was as if the incalculably immense sense of dread was surrounding and enclosing around her whole body like it was a massive pair of wings. A motion that was much like how a mother pegasus shields her foal. Except, rather than keeping the cold and danger away, it imposed them upon her, smothered her in them.

Then suddenly, without warning, the narrator’s voice put Scootaloo’s train of thought to a halt after her two friends put on the story while she wasn’t paying attention. The pegasus’ eyes snapped to the image on screen of an eerie, snowy forest illuminated by the light of a full moon. Her ears stood at attention, listening as the familiar voice from the crystal ball recited a poem for all to hear.

“If you go down to the woods today,
You’re in for a big surprise.
If you go down to the woods today,
You’d better go in disguise.
For when the ground is cold
And covered in snow,
You’ll find yourself in the lair
Of the Wendigo.”

Both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were ready to remark on the delightful surprise provided by the narrator, until they saw something on screen that stopped them in their tracks.

“What in tarnation is that!?”, Apple Bloom cried out.

Grimacing at the screen, Sweetie added, “Whatever it is, please don’t make me look at it any longer! It’s giving me the willies!”

Having faded into view and overlapping with the opening image of the forest was the translucent visage of a ghoulish creature they did not recognize. Much of the details were hard to make out. But there was enough for them to tell that this was a gangly, near skeletally thin monster crawling on four spindly legs, each ending in horrific claws. It’s mouth appeared to be splayed wide open, no doubt preparing to consume whatever was in its line of sight. Meanwhile, Scootaloo subtly checked behind herself, draping one comforting hoof across her own shoulder. No longer did she feel the presence of the “wings” closing in on her, seemingly fading out of her subconscious as suddenly as they had manifested.

Allowing the overwhelming dread she had felt to fade into the background, the pegasus filly’s thoughts began to match her two friends’. They, like every generation since Equestria’s inception, have had the story of their country’s founding drilled into their heads since they were little. And just like most fillies and colts who were told that legend, they all had a healthy dose of fear of the powerful spirits that fed on hate and brought blizzards wherever they came. So much so that they even sometimes shuddered when they heard the noises made by strong winds, mindful of the Al’s sayings which claimed that the winds’ howls were actually the dreadful groans of the Windigos.

Despite how terrifying the prospect of coming face to face with a Windigo might be, they were at least familiar. The fillies could have gone into this knowing what to expect. But this… not Windigo (or “Wendigo” as the humans seemed to call it), through a whole wrench into that. There were virtually no similarities that could be seen between this beast and the Windigos they knew. This obviously begged the question: What did this story actually have in store for them?

“That can’t be the Windigo they’re talking about, right?”, Scootaloo finally spoke up.

“Well, if ain’t got nothin’ ta do with Windigos, then why would they show it?”, Apple Bloom asked.

The conversation halted as soon as the screen displayed the story’s first post-intro illustration. In the middle of a valley surrounded by thousands of frosty trees and massive snowy mountains, there lie a settlement made up of several tipi tents very reminiscent of the ones used by the Buffalo tribes. Three of its inhabitants, a tribe of humans the narrator called the “Algonquin” people, sat in a circle outside their homes. Presumably, they were recanting to one another the legend of a dark and evil spirit that, as the narrator described, had the power to possess and control the minds of men and women.

That would have already put all three fillies on edge, but the intensity was cranked to hair-raising by what they saw occupying much of the middle portion of the foreground. From behind, they saw a haggard figure clad in some sort of tattered robes. Jutting out from the left side of its body at full-extension was its one and only arm, impossibly thin and ending in five highly-twisted, tree branch-like fingers or tendrils. Meanwhile, the Algonquin were continuing to chat, completely oblivious that their folklore’s most evil spirit was stalking them, creeping closer and closer from the looks of it.

Scootaloo’s mind was running itself mad waiting for the moment where the human tribe would halt their gathering, turn their heads slightly and get out of dodge upon seeing the nightmare shambling its way towards them; but that moment wasn’t coming.

“For Celestia’s sake!”, she exclaimed while raising both forelegs in the air. “Get out of there!”

Normally, the other two would be telling their friend to relax, but they were actually sort of in agreement with her this time.

“Yeah. How haven’t they noticed the monster by now?”, Sweetie wondered. “It’s gotta be less than thirty hooves away.”

“Ah think it might actually be a scarecrow.”, Apple Bloom suggested, though in a tone reflecting how her attention was elsewhere.

Looking back at the entity before them, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo did begin to see what their friend was talking about. This creature’s gaunt proportions suddenly made sense upon considering that it wasn’t a living being at all The way the left arm looked so much like a tree branch was because it probably was a tree branch. And it makes sense that out of the three of them, the farm filly would recognize a scarecrow when she sees one. There was one problem, though.

“If it’s supposed to be a scarecrow, then where’s the crops it should be guarding?”, Scootaloo asked her friend.

Apple Bloom shook her head, “Look, it’s clearly winter, so whatever crops they might have ain’t growin’ right now.”

She then gestured towards the screen, “Ah’m more interested in why y’all are just ignorin’ the two ponies at the campsite!”

Indeed, as the other two looked once again, they saw two grazing ponies, one on the left and the other on the right side of the Algonquin camp. Sweetie’s eyes grew to saucer-size, while Scootaloo’s blinked a few times in surprise. Both of them were not only surprised by these two ponies’ presence, but by their stature as well. Each were unusually big to say the least, appearing to reach heights only seen by two ponies in their lives; those ponies being Princess Celestia and Trouble Shoes. Actually, they looked an awful lot like an illustration they saw of ponykind’s ancient ancestors, Equus primitivum. Regardless of how they looked, that still left a more important question unanswered.

“How are their ponies here too?”, Scootaloo asked. “I thought this was supposed to be the human world.”

“Do these Algonquin have some sorta special relationship with ponies?”, Apple Bloom also pondered aloud.

Sweetie Belle briefly considered answering her friend’s questions right then and there.

“Eh. I’ll tell them later.”, she figured.

This entity of Algonquin folklore was said to have preferred stalking its prey in the coldest months. While Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle wondered why this creature only hunted at a certain time of year, Scootaloo noticed the major similarity between her world’s Windigos and human’s Wendigos. Namely, the winter motif they both had. However, that concern soon took a backseat to what the narrator told them next. One of the girl’s blood ran cold as he explained how this spirit entered its victim’s dreams, through which it forced them to seek sustenance in the flesh of their fellowman.

“Are you okay, Sweetie?”, asked Apple Bloom, who noticed the coloration leaving her friend’s face.

“Yeah, you somehow look paler than usual.”, Scootaloo added.

“You girls really didn’t get any of that?”, Sweetie asked back incredulously.

The other two took note of how her now perplexed expression seemed to be transitioning out of a state of disgust. Somehow, they got the feeling they were totally out of the loop. Much like how Sweetie had to explain to them yesterday what it meant when it said the humans were “detonating” Antarctica.

“I mean no, not really.”

Apple Bloom interrupted Scootaloo with a question of her own.

“What do they mean when they say sustenance? And why is it found in ‘the flesh of their fellowman’?”, she said while making air quotes with her hooves.

“Sustenance means…”, Sweetie began explaining, before her pale complexion grew a slight green tinge, making her restart her sentence. “It’s anything that you’d see as food or water.”

“Ohhh!”, the other two said in unison.

They were about to leave the conversation there until the implications clicked in their heads, making their eyes snap to life with dread.

“Uhhh… you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”, Scootaloo asked like a foal who was just told they were being sent to military school.

Sweetie merely nodded and said, “They turn people into… cannibals.”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom both instinctively gulped in response. Though, given the current subject matter, the normally innocuous act of swallowing somehow felt really gross at the moment.

The narrator continued to explain how if the victim, under the influence of the dark spirit, were to consume the body of another, there would be no “going back”, so to speak. They would forever be transformed into a horrifying creature. One which constantly craved human meat, with an appetite that was never fulfilled. They would become what is known as a Wendigo.

The Crusaders all grew queasy at the concept being laid out to them. As a herbivorous species, the idea of consuming meat of any kind was obviously something very foreign to them. In fact, that was one of the biggest hurdles Equestria needed to make as part of the current wave of immigration it was receiving. Numerous public outcries had been made in the coastal cities where newly-arrived griffon and dragon residents were opening butcher shops. So, given how uncomfortable ponies were at the thought of regular meat consumption, the topic of cannibalism was exceedingly rare even in their horror stories. Though, there were some exceptions. Apple Bloom wasn’t going to suddenly forget the nasty rumors that circulated years ago about Zecora serving ponies in a homemade stew.

Born of the Native American tribes that inhabited the colder climates of the north-eastern US and parts of Canada, the Wendigo is explained to be a legend of two halves.

“So, we got another story set in America again.”, Sweetie Belle said blankly.

“Why have most of these stories been set in America? Is it really that special of a place?”, Scootaloo wondered.

“Ah’m wonderin’ what the difference is suppose ta be between ‘native americans’ and other americans?”

“What do you mean?”, Sweetie Belle asked Apple Bloom.

“Just sounded like the narrator was tryin’ ta make a distinction with the way he specifically said Native American tribes.”

The Wendigo’s applied to both the evil spirit which possessed the victim and the physical being they would become after consuming the flesh of another. The spirit was attracted to two opposite ends of the social hierarchy; those who were greedy and spiteful, and those who were desperate and starving.

“Why those two types specifically?”, Scootaloo asked, but was only answered with shrugs.

It was said to haunt people in their sleep, filling their dreams with thoughts of cannibalism and a desire to kill and eat others, starting with those closest to them.

Apple Bloom let out a sharp gasp, immediately followed by covering her mouth with her own hoof.

“Nopony really is safe with this thing around.”, Sweetie lamented.

The idea that one day you could be struck with the uncontrollable compulsion to not just kill your loved ones, but eat their bodies as well was absolutely stomach churning if the Crusader’s nauseated tummies had anything to say about it.

However, the physical Wendigo that was now shown on screen was just as terrifying. Crawling through a woodland setting, the creature was tall and thin, with pale flesh pulled tight over its bones. It had a human-like head, which was somewhat deformed, with gaunt cheeks, dark pits for eyes and lips that had wasted away, exposing its razor-sharp teeth. The extremely sharp claws at the end of its spindly fingers were no doubt used to rip apart its victims. Wendigos were said to be fast, strong and agile, able to stalk their prey over extended periods of time.

“Ah bet they can smell blood from miles away like a shark too.”, Apple Bloom muttered while unconsciously resting a hoof on her bandaged forehead.

If this wasn’t bad enough, they’ve also been known to lure in victims by impersonating the voices of their friends and relatives.

“How is everything about this this thing so… wrong?”, Scootaloo grimaced.

Even though the wording was vague, her friends knew exactly what she meant. The very nature of this monster, at its core, was practically designed to unnerve them as ponies raised in Equestrian culture. The way it took advantage of someone’s trust for those closest to them. How it colonized one’s mind and made them commit the most heinous, unthinkable taboo. It truly was so… wrong, unnatural one could even call it. Mind, body and even love itself, none of this was sacred to this abomination; there was truly nothing that it wouldn’t violate.

“At least the only things here in Equestria that can impersonate your loved ones don’t want to eat you alive.”, Sweetie Belle said, recalling the Changelings who only fed on love, making them the opposite of their world’s Windigos in a way.

Although this was all supposed to be a simple legend used to elucidate the ills of winter, coldness, famine ad starvation, as well as the stigmas attached to greed and the accumulation of wealth, it has since evolved into something more. Listed as a modern-day cryptid, people still report encountering Wendigos to this day.

“Just so we’re clear, cryptid still means monster, right?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“I don’t know.”, Sweetie Belle answered.

The question is whether the legend is fueling these sightings or whether people are using the legend to explain something else they may be seeing. According to the narrator, finding credible reports of these encounters was near impossible, as there are little to no famous incidents on record. Yet they were still able to find some. He then let out a disclaimer that none of the accounts they were about to present had any evidence to back them up. They are purely anecdotal, but intriguing nonetheless.

Surprisingly, while Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were relieved to hear this, such news still brought Scootaloo no comfort.

The first of these encounters took place in New Brunswick, Canada on a property just outside Jemsegnear Grand Lake. Submitted to Reddit in April of 2015, the user states that he and his wife had moved to the area the previous summer.

“Who’s this ‘Reddit’ guy and why is he apparently the guy everyone reports to when there’s a Wendigo problem?”, Scootaloo asked.

“Maybe Mr. Reddit is the top guy in the Men in Black?”, Sweetie suggested.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been established that the Men in Black aren’t guys you wanna call upon unless you don’t mind having to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”, the pegasus filly quipped back.

“If he was one of the MIB’s best agents, they’d probably make sure no one knows he exists.”, Apple Bloom interjected. “Reddit is probably just the name of a magazine or somethin’ like that.”

The property came with about four acres of land and was largely surrounded by dense woods. They spent the first four months renovating the household before settling for what would prove to be a bitterly cold winter. The snowfall at the beginning of that year would be the deepest the region had seen for decades.

“I bet he and his wife were going through a rough patch.”, Sweetie Belle pondered. “Actually, scratch that. Their whole town must have been pretty grouchy if it had gotten that bad.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think the usual Windigo rules apply here now.”, Scootaloo said.

Their closest neighbors lived about a mile or two further along
Route 695 and the total white-out would only add to that sense of isolation, not that they minded the peace and quiet.

Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie Belle and asked, “Uhhh… Sweetie? What’s a white-out?”

“I only remember that it’s a weather condition that’s only seen in really, really cold and snowy places. Don’t know what actually happens in a white-out though.”, she answered.

The sun began to set just after 4 pm on those early winter evenings. And with the usual ambient sounds deadened by the snow, an eerie, deep purple twilight descended upon the scene night after night. At around 1 am on the 24th of January, the user reports that he was awoken by one of his dogs barking and scratching at the back door. Thinking that it needed to go outside and do its business, he left his wife sleeping in bed and made his way downstairs. As soon as he opened the back door, the dog made a dash for the tree line surrounding property, growling and barking at something in the darkness beyond. No matter how many times he tried to call her back, she just kept on running without so much as a glance back towards the house

Seeing the silhouettes of the dog sprinting to the woods ahead and its owner trying in vain to call it back, the trio of fillies was reminded of the fate of the dog from the first story they saw. Realizing what was likely to come next, they each dreaded the moment when the man would have to head into the woods to find her.

After hastily pulling on a pair of snow boots and grabbing a torch, the owner ran out across his yard and soon found himself standing at the edge of the woods, calling her name and shining a light into the thickets of trees. He could hear the snapping of branches off in the distance as his dog made her way through the bush, still growling and barking at whatever she could sense was out there. But then it suddenly went quiet…

“Oh shoot!”, Apple Bloom despaired, knowing what that entailed for the poor pet.

Scootalo grimaced as well, “If the barking suddenly starts back up again out of nowhere, he probably shouldn’t check it out.”

“Too bad I’m not there to tell him that, though.”, she mentally added.

The girls took solace in the fact that he obviously survived to tell the tale. At least they didn’t have to be too afraid for his safety as they watched him take just one step inside the tree line and shine his flashlight at the foliage. He stood still for a moment, listening; there was not even a whisper on the wind. He took a few more steps forward, called again and still heard nothing. He stated that he must have walked another twenty feet before he found himself amongst a grouping of European White Birches.

“Uh oh. If he’s surrounded by those trees, does that mean he lost his escape route!?”, Sweetie Belle panicked. “How does he get out of this, then?”

It was then that the man heard it.

“Babe?”

It was his wife’s voice, coming from behind him.

The entire trio shuddered. Non-coincidentally, they all imagined hearing the comforting voices of their respective caretakers coming out of the Wendigo’s hideous maw. That image felt wrong in all sorts of ways.

“On the small chance that really is his wife, ah hope he tells her ta get back inside soon.”, Apple Bloom tensely stated.

He turned around, fully expecting to see her standing at the edge of the tree line, but there was no one there.

“Turn back around! Turn back around!”, Scootaloo pleaded, expecting the Wendigo to pounce on him while his back is turned.

Then he heard it a second time; “Babe?”

Sweetie Belle briefly wore a blank expression, which soon was wiped away with a smile as she began letting loose a little stream of giggles.

“What’s so funny?”, she heard Scootaloo say.

Sweetie turned to see her pegasus friend being joined by Apple Bloom, both staring at her like she had just repeated the doctrine of the now defunct Camp Blank Flank. In other words, like she was a nut job.

“I just thought about how this thing’s ability to copy voices would make it a really good ventriloquist.”, she then was forced to pause to let out a snort. “And then I imagined it on stage with a ventriloquist dummy!”

Apple Bloom sputtered as she tried to reply, “Wow! That sure does make it less scary, don’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t! That thing is creepy enough on its own without holding one of those weird puppets in its claws.”, Scootaloo commented.

As Scootaloo’s friends took a moment to laugh at her expense, the man realized something was wrong. As before, the voice sounded as if it came from behind, but now it was from deeper inside the woods. He shone his torch into the branches, panning back and forth, when he suddenly noticed a movement about ten feet ahead of him. What both he and the Crusaders thought were branches stood up to reveal a long spindly figure.

While the other two gawked in surprise, Apple Bloom mentally tried to grade this monster’s stealth performance. Given how much experience the three of them have gained snooping and eavesdropping over the years, they’ve learned practically everything one isn’t supposed to do when sneaking up on someone. She decided to give him a B+.

When the torch beam passed over its face, the eyes did not reflect any light, they were just dark, black orbs. No doubt an indication of how this creature lost its humanity long ago. He had no time to think about what he was seeing as he turned and ran back towards the house, bursting out of the tree line and tearing across the open space of his backyard. Only when he reached his back door and saw that his dog was sitting there waiting for him did he look back, but there was nothing there.

“Yes!”, Apple Bloom cheered whilst pumping a hoof in celebration. “Thank Celestia, the dog made it out!”

Turning into an equine embodiment of an imp, Scootaloo decided to begin taunting.

“Oh, you don’t know that. Could actually be a Wendigo in disguise.”, she sneered.

Apple Bloom turned to frown at Scootaloo, before simply replying with, “Shut up!”

Like a wrestling villain, Scootaloo just basked in Apple Bloom’s contempt. Feeling like she had gotten back at the farm filly for the times she mocked her tonight.

When the man went inside, he found his wife still fast asleep in bed.

The user finished his post by saying, “I don’t know if the thing I saw was a Wendigo, but it fits the description. It could have been a ghost or, hell, even an alien. It might even have been my imagination, but the sound of my wife’s voice… And those eyes… It was very real to me.”

“Huh. I’m surprised that the Wendigo apparently gave up that easily.”, Sweetie Belle observed. “I wonder if it’s lazier than we’ve been led to believe.”

“Hmmm. Ya know, that’s got me thinkin’.”, Apple Bloom announced cheerfully. “Given all the manner of critters we’ve encountered, maybe we shouldn’t be so scared of this Wendigo whatever!”

She continued smugly, pointing a hoof at herself and keeping both eyes closed.

“Ah mean, look at me! Ah came face ta face with a chimera and ah’m still here ta tell y’all about it!”

Scootaloo’s chest visibly swelled up.

“You’re right!”, she declared. “What’s this Wendigo compared to a cockatrice that turns you to stone? We could totally handle it!”

“Well… we didn’t actually handle the cockatrice.”, Sweetie Belle pointed out. “Fluttershy did. And Apple Bloom, if your big sister didn’t show up, you actually would have been Chimera food by now.”

Eyelids lowered, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom gave Sweetie the harshest deadpan of the whole night before decided to just let that go. That surge of self-confidence wasn’t coming back anyway.

The user concluded his statement with, “I don’t know what I saw that night, but I can tell you that I haven’t been back into those woods.”

“Well, that’s one ‘brave act’ we have that this guy doesn’t.”, Sweetie conceded. “Despite how much trouble we’ve faced after entering the Everfree forest, that’s never stopped us from coming back there.”

“Yeah…”, Apple Bloom concurred, her face shifting to a neutral expression before continuing to speak.

“Ya know, before Miss Twilight showed up, Everfree was such an unexplored place. But now, it feels like a lot of its mystery has gone away since then. Y’all know what ah mean?”

As the story showed a cozy and picturesque log cabin in the middle of the frozen woods, the narrator began to tell the story taking place later that same year of a young man by the name of John Crowder who would have a chilling experience whilst working in “Brasher State Forest” of St. Lawrence, New York. John worked as a contractor, cutting and marking trails through the dense woodland in preparation for a public opening the following year.

“Ooo. I wonder what’s opening there?”, Sweetie Belle wondered.

“Let’s just hope it’s anything as cool as Mrs. Maregorium’s Toy Emporium!

“Or Silly Suga’s Candy Shop!”, the unicorn enthusiastically added.

“Ya know, that reminds me. Ah heard that a Silly Suga’s was gonna open up here in Ponyville.”, Apple Bloom chimed in before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering. “But, supposedly, Sweetie Drops got some outside help to keep any potential competitors outta town.”

“Who’s help do you think she could have enlisted to do something like that?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Ah dunno. But whoever they are, ah heard they used some really intimidatin’ methods against Silly Suga himself just ta make sure he never even thought of settin’ hoof in Ponyville again.”

“Now that I think about it, that Sweetie Drops did always kind of shifty.”, Scootaloo said as she put a hoof to her chin.

Unlike many of his co-workers, John was from out of state and often found himself spending his weekends in a cabin at the newly-established trailhead, whilst everyone else went home. During December, the first Winter snows began to hit the region and it would be just after 10 pm on the weekend of the 12th that John would receive an unwanted visitor. The story then proceeded to cut to John laying in bed, reading a book labeled “Bedtime Stories”.

“Well look at that, some self-promotion.”, Apple Bloom thought.

As he recalls, the snow was beginning to fall in earnest and he had just put another log on the fire. He was climbing back into his bunk to continue reading his book, when he was surprised by a loud thud on the roof. After a brief moment of shock, he reasoned that a clump of snow must have fallen from the branches of the tree overhanging the cabin and thought nothing more of it. Scootaloo smiled to herself, remembering how she used to get so easily spooked by noises like that. But after years of having the house to herself whenever her aunts weren’t there, she no longer carried herself like a spazz who overreacted to whatever creaks and groans she heard around her house.

However, about five minutes later, John was disturbed again. This time by a light, almost inaudible scratching sound above his head. Again, he quickly dismissed it, while Scootaloo personally felt like she jinxed the human’s situation somehow. He figured that either some branches were scraping across the roof or a Raccoon had decided to brave the elements in search of food. In any case the sound stopped abruptly after a few more minutes and after another hour or so, John decided to turn over and go to sleep.

He had just closed his eyes when he was startled by another loud thud. Then another. And another. And another. And then… nothing.

Scootaloo felt a bead of sweat drop down her forehead as she further began to empathize with John.

“Why do I get the feeling the Wendigo is just doing that to lure him out of the cabin?”, she wondered aloud.

John remembered a chill running up his spine, as it sounded like someone had just walked across the roof of his cabin. It was definitely not a raccoon; the thuds had been too heavy and they sounded bipedal. While Sweetie Belle wondered how he could tell that the footsteps belonged to something on two legs, he reasoned that someone was playing around before remembering just how deep in the woods he was. He then wondered who would have been out there at that time and in that weather? He knew he had to go check it out, but - for obvious reasons - felt apprehensive.

The story then transitioned to one of the most darkly lit illustrations they’d seen from any of these stories. John’s silhouette was barely visible as he hung out over his bannister, looking out at the pitch Black Forest ahead. For a time, he sat looking out his window to see if he could spot any movement. Given the low temperatures, he was already fully clothed. He slipped on his boots, opened the door and tentatively stepped out on to the balcony. And there he stood in the silence of the night, as the snow fell without a sound, knowing that there was someone out there, watching him.

There was nothing on the roof, but his eyes were drawn to the high branches of a nearby tree. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness and he never understood why, but for some reason he had the strangest, most overpowering feeling that there was a presence there. He went to switch on his torch, but something stopped him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a voice telling him that if he did, he would not live to see the light of day. Instead he turned around and went back inside, locking the doors behind him.

Sighing in relief, Scootaloo said, “Glad to see someone with good survival instincts. Just like me!”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Bein’ awful skittish about anythin’ that’s remotely spooky don’t mean ya got good self-preservation instincts.”

“Yeah.”, Sweetie concurred. “In fact, out of the three of us, your crusading ideas were probably the most consistently reckless and life-threatening.”

Scootaloo simply scowled back at the both of them.

With their points made, the unicorn and earth pony filly turned back towards the screen, unaware that their friend was now directing towards them the most obscene gesture in the Equestrian lexicon.

With John, hours had passed by and nothing else happened, but he had been so unnerved by what he felt that he could not even close his eyes. Eventually, sleep did find him. He awoke several hours later. Looking out of the window, he was relieved to see the sun was just beginning to rise. The scene before him was peaceful and silent, but in the half light he spotted on the balcony just outside the doors bare humanoid footprints in the virgin snow. And in that moment, he knew something been watching him while he slept.

Scootaloo gave an involuntary shudder. She hated being reminded of how everypony is at their most vulnerable when they sleep. For a moment, the poor filly considered checking the window behind her but, of course, realized that was silly. She didn’t need to be caught doing that the second time that night.

Although John didn’t see anything that night, when his colleagues returned the following Monday and he told them about his experience, most of them laughed and joked about it. One or two, however, were dead serious when they told him that he’d been visited by a Wendigo. As the video began transitioning away to its next story, the trio of fillies grew perplexed.

“Hol’ up!”, Apple Bloom protested. “How do they know for a fact it was a Wendigo?”

“We didn’t even see the monster this time!”, Scootaloo complained

“Yeah.”, Sweetie Belle agreed. “And Scootaloo, I think you made a good point earlier. If this thing is supposed to be so relentless, why did it let these people get away so easily?”

The conversation might have continued on longer if it weren’t for the next illustration that popped up on screen. Bundled up in typical winter garb was a bearded human wearing glasses and holding one of his species’ “hand canons”, as the Crusaders liked to call them, only this one seemed to have more instruments attached to it. However, that’s not what was capturing their attention. Rather, it was what the human was standing next to in a most triumphant pose that choked down any words that was about to leave their throats. Lying lifeless deep in the snow next to this human the narrator called Chuck Latimer was the body of a male deer; its impressive antlers were tall enough reach above the human’s waist from where he lay.

Before any of the three fillies could say anything, the narrator began talking about how Chuck had the story of his own encounter with a Wendigo published in an issue of “Fortean Times” over twenty years ago. The Crusaders all felt their blood ran cold as they were told that Chuck had a background as a “hunter from Delta County, Michigan”. Born in 1939, he had apparently spent many years hunting in the woods and forests of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. This had all confirmed to the fillies what their guts had been telling them and they did not like it. The occupation of “hunter” was not one that had a presence in Equestria, only in cultures like those of the Griffons. But even then, those hunters didn’t hunt down and kills sapient beings such as deer, unlike this Chuck Latimer fellow.

Sweetie Belle was the one who finally decided to take the initiative, putting the story on pause. She turned her to look at the other two and their dumbstruck faces. It seemed a bit cruel that they had to learn this horrific truth just when the Wendigo’s scare factor was starting to wear off for them. It took another few seconds before either of them finally spoke up.

“Ah can’t believe that the humans we’ve been hearin’ about in all these stories also like ta…”

Apple Bloom couldn’t even finish that sentence; thankfully she didn’t have to.

“How sick do you have to be to hunt a race as peaceful as the deer!?”, Scootaloo blurted out.

With a sigh, Sweetie finally spoke up.

“Girls.”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned to face their friend, much anticipation could be seen on their faces over what she would say next.

“There’s… something else about the human world I forgot to tell you.”

“You mean to tell us that Princess Twilight told you that in the human world ponies, donkeys, deer and all creatures with hooves are pretty much pea brained animals.”, Scootaloo summarized Sweetie’s explanation right back to her. “And you somehow forgot ALL about that!?”

“It just never had the right time to come up in conversation, I guess.”, the unicorn filly sheepishly excused herself.

“So, those ponies we saw with the Algonquin earlier in the story were… livestock?”, Apple Bloom asked.

Sweetie Belle shrugged.

“Probably.”, she replied. “It’d be no different the chickens you and Fluttershy keep.”

Scootaloo chimed back in.

“And that dead deer?”, she asked, pointing one hoof at the screen while keeping her eyes on Sweetie.

“If I had to guess, he probably eats them.”, she simply answered back.

Both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom shuddered at that mental image, though the latter halted herself sooner when a thought occurred to her.

“Ah guess, ta this Chuck feller, eatin’ that deer is just like when Gallus and Smolder eat those little rodent critters they like so much.”

Having already met a friendly dragon and griffon before helped a great deal when they needed to make friends with the School of Friendship’s first resident griffon and dragon. Unfortunately, given that they never saw Spike or Gabby indulge in their natural carnivore diet, that left them totally unprepared during the moments they bore witness to the moments where Gallus and Smolder did so. Still, they eventually got used to that. Although, that didn’t exactly answer the question of whether they could get past the fact that humans treated their kind, despite being non-sapient, like cattle and possibly even food.

Apple Bloom’s stomach grew nauseous. With so much talk about things like cannibalism or ponies and deer being eaten, the thought of consumption of any sort was starting sound disgusting to her. Like the act of eating itself was somehow tainted into an act of depravity. Scootaloo quickly took notice of how grossed out her friend looked.

“Are you okay, Apple Blooom?”, she asked.

“I-it’s alright.”, the farm filly reassured. “Can we please just get back to the story now?”

Taking the hint that her friend wanted to get this over with, Sweetie Belle levitated the pen in her magic and tapped the projected screen to continue the story.

As everypony in the room tried to let awkward feeling in the air around them dissipate, the explanation on Chuck Latimer’s background continued. It was told of how so much years spent hunting allowed him to become accustomed to the outdoors. He had heard many strange tales about the forests of North America. He had even heard some weird sounds on previous camping trips, but had never seen anything out of the ordinary and didn’t believe in any of the stories he had been told. Relatives had described him as an honest, salt of the Earth kind of man, with a no-nonsense approach to his endeavors.

Apple Bloom felt a little smile creep onto her face as she was able to forget about her nausea from a mere moment ago. The description of this man reminded her so much of her sister in all the best ways. It was just what she needed to hear if she wanted to be able to empathize with him, in spite of his profession. She was glad that it came as soon as it did.

The story of Latimer’s encounter was published some years after his untimely death and was submitted by his son, Andrew; this news immediately wiped the smile off of Apple Bloom’s face. It took place in December 1983, whilst his father was on a hunting trip in the “Gwinn State Forest” of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The Crusaders briefly felt relieved that story was finally transitioning away from the image of Chuck standing over a dead deer, only to be disappointed when an even worse image of him pointing his hand-canon at a deer in the distance popped up.

“Oh come on!”, Sweetie Belle griped.

Chuck was three days into this particular excursion when he came across something he was never able to explain and which kept him from doing solo hunts for many years afterwards. It was early afternoon and the going had been tough. He had tracked a large buck for some distance over difficult terrain, which was blanketed by snow. He finally got eyes on his quarry when he approached the edge of an expansive clearing. Being some distance away and downwind of the animal, he had time to be patient as he carefully moved into a good position and took aim with his “Remington Rifle”.

When he finally took the shot, Latimer was disappointed (though the Crusaders were relieved) to see the buck twitch and bolt into the trees beyond. He had it in the flank, but his aim had been off by a good three inches.

Scootaloo winced, “Oh jeez! Did it have to be in the flank?”

“There are lots of worse places ta get shot than the flank, Scoots.”, Apple Bloom retorted.

“But isn’t sitting down gonna hurt like a bitch afterwards?”

Still, it was wounded. It would soon succumb to its injuries and all Chuck had to do from that point was follow the trail of blood.

Scootaloo couldn’t help but feel slightly infuriated by how casually this man treated shooting and killing her fellow hooved-creature. But she quickly decided to let it go. After all, he was doing this to survive and couldn’t afford to emphasize with his own prey. Besides, it’s not like he was doing this for sport, right?

As the story showed the illustration of him making it halfway across the clearing, things supposedly started to get a little weird for him. Chuck described that the air seemed to turn thick and dull, and that everything went quiet. All the usual woodland sounds died out and he was suddenly overcome by a peculiar feeling of vulnerability, as if he was exposed. He continued forward, but not without a degree of trepidation. Just inside the tree line on the other side of the clearing, he saw the buck lying on its side, it’s flanks bellowing as hot air - visible in the low temperatures - poured from its nostrils. Sweetie Belle covered her ears, wanting to be spared any more details of the deer’s suffering.

He got to within 30 feet of the dying animal, hunting knife in hand, when he noticed something strange. Just behind the deer, there was a mass of white, which at first glance looked like a pile of snow. But now he could see that it was moving as if attached to the wounded buck. He would move just a few steps closer before stopping dead in his tracks. His mouth hung agape as he saw an inhuman face rise up from behind his kill.

All three fillies grew horrified as the story panned to reveal the monster standing over the deer’s body. They quivered at the sight of the blood dribbling out of its mouth and would not dare to challenge Chuck’s description of the creature’s facial expression as the most evil he had ever seen. It was as if the trio had suddenly been reminded of the harm this abomination was capable of inflicting.

It suddenly moved into a defensive posture, crouching over the deer as if protecting it. It then emitted a high pitch screech, which was enough to send Chuck running for the opposite side of the clearing. That detail was also enough to make Scootaloo shudder from her place on the floor as she recalled the blood-curdling screech of the Mothman from the first story they watched two nights ago. He managed to get back to his camp and abandoned his trip early. As far as his son knew, Chuck never went hunting in those woods ever again.

“Huh.”, Apple Bloom said plainly. “That’s the third time this Wendigo let a person go.”

“I know right?”, Scootaloo agreed. “I thought this thing was supposed to hunger for human flesh. Why did it go for the deer instead?”

Sweetie Belle tapped a hoof to her chin, “Do you think the whole ‘human turned cannibal’ part of its mythos was made up, but everything else is true?”

“Maybe.”, Apple Bloom conceded, until a new thought occurred to her. “Or maybe it used ta feed on humans a long time ago, but now that they’ve got all this technology and weaponry, the humans became more trouble than they’re worth.”

Scootaloo nodded at her friend’s speculation.

“Yeah, that makes sense. They probably won’t attack a human unless they have the element of surprise.”

After Chuck recalled the creature’s numerous other physical features that the Crusaders were already familiar with, the narrator told of how Chuck would often tell this story to those closest to him. Even as he was terminally ill with cancer and on his deathbed, he would recount this tale one last time…

The mention of Chuck Latimer’s death at the hands of cancer was enough to make all three fillies’ ears sorrowfully flatten against their heads.

The narrator then began rhetorically asking whether these were all just tall tales or if these people actually did see something out in the woods? The biggest problem to found with so-called Wendigo encounters is that it’s a known fact that this creature is nothing more than a legend. All three fillies found the narrator’s certainty to be a bit out of character, but opted to let him explain himself first. In the original folklore, the Wendigo did not have a physical presence at all, it only existed in spirit form. It’s physical manifestation only came about later and even then, there are multiple descriptions regarding its appearance. Whilst most tribes described it as depicted in this episode, others said that it looked more like a man-eating Sasquatch.

“What’s a Sasquatch?”, Sweetie Belle said before cringing slightly. “Sheesh, that word felt weird leaving my mouth.”

“Whatever it is, ah hope ah never have ta meet it.”, Apple Bloom declared, naturally wary of its description as man-eater.

And particularly in later years, and especially since the advent of the “internet”, modern descriptions suggest it has the skull of a deer for a head, complete with antlers.

As the the head of the Wendigo shown on screen transformed into that of a deer skull, all three Crusaders went silent for a solid few seconds.

“What the buck?”, Scootaloo finally said.

None of the fillies, for the life of them, could figure out what connection deers could possibly have with the act of cannibalism. The deer were known to have a deep connection with nature and are just as if not more peace-loving and non-aggressive in their stance than Equestria is. Sure there had been rough patches with them in the past, but that was only because the deer’s homes, the forests, were being encroached upon. They certainly never had been reports of the deer committing any indiscriminate killing, and especially no reports of these known vegetarians consuming anyone’s flesh.

“Are the deers in the human world totally different from the deer we have here?”, Sweetie Belle pondered.

She was only met with shrugs by the other two, so she’d have to call that a “maybe” for now.

Unlike the Skinwalker - another Native American legend - Wendigos are unable to shapeshift, so these discrepancies in appearance only serve to cast further doubt upon its physical existence.

“Sounds like something they’ll talk about in a future episode.”, Sweetie Belle said. “Any of you want to see their story on that next?”

Apple Bloom rubbed their back of her own head.

“Ehh, ah think for now ah’ve heard enough stories from these… Native Americans.”

She still wasn’t exactly sure what adding the word “Native” in front of “American” was supposed to imply.

It was now being explained how it’s easy to see how legends such as those of the Wendigo were perpetrated when one considers that they come from the days before modern medicine when many illnesses and mental conditions were caused by spirits. The Northern US and parts of Canada are bitterly cold during Winter and there would, without a doubt, have been times when food was scarce in such harsh environments. This perhaps led to some individuals becoming so desperate that they resorted to eating the flesh of the dead, an act seen as the ultimate taboo. It is possible that the legend was born out of a need to both explain and deter these actions as well as to establish morality against greed and personal accumulation of food or wealth. To the Crusaders, it was once again very encouraging to be reminded that these humans did indeed have a sense of morality that could be compatible with their own; it’s moments like that which remind them that friendship is an offer that should be extended to anyone, and these should not be the exception.

“I totally get why they’d want to stop cannibalism and greed, but why can’t anybody be allowed to get rich?”, Scootaloo questioned.

“You remember Mr. Yesteryear’s lesson about pre-civilization pony tribes?”, Sweetie Belle asked her friend.

Judging by the way Scootaloo averted her gaze and bit her bottom lip, the answer was “no”.

With a sigh, Sweetie began explaining.

“So, the biggest difference between ponies before and after they became ‘civilized’ was that they didn’t have agriculture-“

Scootaloo was in the middle of raising her hoof when Sweetie immediately answered the question that had not yet been asked.

“You know, crops and farms.”

The pegasus put her hoof back down.

“Anyway, so before they had that stuff, there was never an excess of food available.”

Scootaloo turned her eyes towards Apple Bloom to help simplify.

“The point Sweetie Belle is gettin’ at is that if ya live in a place where there ain’t alotta resources and yer tryin’ ta hoard a buncha stuff, yer just bein’ a selfish jerk.”, the farm filly chimed in. “That’s probably what it was like for these Algonquin tribes.”

The point was better communicated when the narrator explained how the legend encouraged individuals to share their supplies for the good of the tribe.

“Exactly.”, said Sweetie Belle. “These people probably didn’t have money, so wealth only came in the form of food and supplies. You shouldn’t be hoarding that stuff from everyone else.”

All that said, could people be encountering something else in the woods and incorrectly attributing these sightings to the Wendigo? After all, the forests of North America are so vast, there are places within them that people have never visited. It’s not difficult to consider the possibility of a long-lost people still eking out an existence deep in those interiors; or possibly something else entirely non-human. This reminded the girls of how the hippogriffs, fleeing from the Storm King, carved out a new life as seaponies deep down in the ocean.

It was then said by the narrator that there were some videos that suggested this possibility was, indeed, the case. Whilst they may actually be nothing more than hoaxes, they are rather intriguing. He then warned the audience that they were presented with clips that have been attributed to possible Wendigo sightings.

While the other two let out an audible gulp, Scootaloo put her best mask of bravado she could manifest. Though her voice immediately undercut her efforts.

“B-bring it on!”

The first video was from 2009. In it, a group of humans were sitting around a campfire and having the following conversation.

[“This stick is getting pretty damn sharp.”

“Oh f*** the smoke is in my face!”

“Well, you’ve been sharpening it for like two hours.”]

Just then, an otherworldly vocalization could be heard, which halts the campers’ conversation. In the background, a pale and lanky humanoid figure on all fours could be seen quickly crawling in and out of view. Amazingly, none of the campers appear to spot the creature. As for the Crusaders, all of them had immediately began trembling upon seeing the Wendigo. One would erroneously think, based on their reactions, that they’d never come face to face with a monster before, especially more than once.

[“Do you hear something?”

“That’s the dog.”]

“What dog?”, Apple Bloom interrupted.

[“Okay, it’s probably shy though.”]

The conversation was cut off once again, this time by the video cutting to a zoomed-in replay of the moment the monster was spotted in the background.

“Eugh!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed, not liking the view of this thing’s gaunt and spindly frame in motion.

While the narrator acknowledged that this video could be genuine, he also pointed out how odd it was that there appeared to be a light source on the ground near to and pointing directly at the creature as it passed by. Also, the way the camera is aimed in that direction at nothing in particular, instead of focusing on the people around the campfire, makes it seem a little staged.

“Ah suppose that’s a bit too convenient.”, Apple Bloom conceded.

The next video was recorded on January 1st, 2014 and focuses on a group of guys exploring an abandoned property. The video opened with the camera pointing at a red piece of clothing, possibly a dress, on the ground.

[“Is that a dress?”

“That’s disgusting.”]

That got Sweetie to raise an eyebrow.

“What’s so gross about a dress?”

“Are they talking about something that isn’t on camera?”, Scootaloo wondered.

After the camera is taken off the dress, it’s pointed around the room, trying to follow wherever the flashlight is pointing. Apparently, one of the guys suddenly hears a noise.

[“Was that you?”

“I don’t hear anything…”

“It’s nothing, come on.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, the backyard.”]

In anticipation, all three Crusaders held their breath as one of the guys quickly checked the backyard.

[“There’s nothing.”

“I’m gonna go back. I saw a bath-“

“Shhh!”

“What? What is it?”

“Sounds like it’s on the other side. You know, where we first came in.”

“…”

“Yeah, it’s back there.”]

They continued to whisper to each other as they made their way to the source of the noise. One of the guys began shucking his friends. Noticing that they still had the flashlight shining bright, they urged the man holding it to shut it down.Just as they turned the light off, the recording picked up a truly unearthly sound. What started off as a squeal shifted into a horrifying amalgam of groaning and clicking.

[“What is that?”

“Turn-turn the light back on. It sounds like it’s in the corner.”

“What the f*** is that!?!”]

The whole trio of fillies felt their fight or flight (mostly flight) instincts flare up as the blue light revealed the monster poking its head from behind the corner. The creatures shriek made the fillies jump in their seats and sent the guys bolting out of room and booking it out of the building, cursing all the while. It took a lot of self-control for Scootaloo to resist the instinct to run away herself. The narrator began commenting not only on the dark lighting and the lack of a clear shot of the creature, but also how the whole situation seemed very “contrived and almost cliche in this day and age”. It was this reasoning that led him to the opinion that this video was also staged.

Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but gawk at the narrator’s line of reasoning for dismissing what was, to her, more than solid evidence of this thing’s existence. Especially the first video. She felt that it would take some of the most talented illusionists in Equestria to fake that one.

“I guess that time me and my friends saw a cockatrice didn’t actually happen, then. Too contrived and cliche to have been real.”, she bitterly thought.

The next video was shot in 2005 and uploaded in 2011.

Scootaloo was almost ready to calm down after the last footage, but that detail the narrator mentioned about the next one seemed ominous to her.

“Why did it take so long for them to ‘upload’ it?”

She was relieved to hear that the person who originally filmed this video did not die before he could share it with the world. He just didn’t notice anything wrong in the footage until he reviewed it six years after it was recorded. The footage itself consists of the uploader with his camera wandering around a remote graveyard surrounded by woodland. Nothing out of the ordinary is seen until a red arrow on screen points out what appears to be a strange humanoid figure peeping out from behind a gravestone. The zoom in on the creature shown afterward unnerved the trio. Its features, if it had any, were still hard to make out, but what they saw painted an unpleasant picture.

Apple Bloom shivered, before turning to ask something from both of her friends.

“Have any of y’all ever looked through old photos n’ got creeped out when ya saw somethin’ in ‘em ya don’t remember bein’ there?”

“No.”, Sweetie answered. “Have you?”

“Well, no. But ah figured it be awful creepy if it did happen.”

The unicorn deadpanned a look at her friend for wasting a potentially interesting conversation.

“I can say for sure if I saw something like that in my old photos of me and my aunts at Neighagra Falls…”, Scootaloo said while pointing a hoof at the creature on screen. “I’d be pretty freaked out. Not gonna lie.”

The narrator noted that while the time delay between recording and uploading is interesting, this figure could easily be someone standing behind a gravestone pushing a mannequin into shot and then retracting it before the camera pans back. Sweetie Belle felt a bit more satisfied with the reason for dismissal this time; at least he was offering an alternative explanation for what was being seen, instead of just saying “this feels staged” or “it’s too cliche”. The narrator announced the final video, which was found on a “camera phone” from the mid-2000’s, meaning the video quality was poor.

“Is it me, or is this story really long?”, Sweetie Belle complained.

Scootaloo couldn’t agree more.

“Tell me about it. This is already the longest one yet and it’s still going!”

Their slight irritation would give way to a tinge of fear as they were told by the narrator how no one has come forth to claim the footage and the owner of the phone has never been traced.

“Ah really hope we’re not about ta actually see someone die.”, Apple Bloom grimly prayed.

Nopony dare say a word as they watched the footage of a couple wandering through the woods. The man points out to his spouse a strange creature out in the distance, to which she reacts in shock. It looked almost translucent as it makes its way through the trees; whether the Wendigo was in its spirit form or it really was because of the poor camera quality, it was hard to say. Uneasily, the couple continued watching the entity as it inched closer and closer, while the Crusaders hang at the edge of their seats. The fillies’ hearts skipped a beat when the creature let loose a blood curdling screech and began charging at the couple. Their heart rates continued at skyscraper heights as they watched the couple desperately run for their lives before the husband decided to drop his camera phone.

When the video ended, they all released a breath that they hadn’t realized they were holding.

Shaking like a leaf in the wind, a startled Scootaloo thought to herself, “I think I need to go use the bathroom after this is over.”

The narrator, for his part, said that if this was actually a hoax, then it was a very good one.

“Ah wish ah could ask him how he’s so unaffected when watchin’ stuff like that.”, said Apple Bloom, marveling at how calmly the narrator breaks down and analyzes videos as scary as these.

For him, one possible give away was the sound of the creature. It was extremely clear and does not seem to vary in volume despite varying distances away from the recording device. Also, the quality of the footage leaves a lot to be desired. He then began his conclusion by stating that the Legend of the Wendigo seemed to be just that; a legend. It survives today in Native American folklore and internet “creepypastas”.

Some of the fillies let out a snort, while others went straight to chuckling.

“What?”, asked Scootaloo between giggles.

“Who tells stories through sPooKy sPagHeTTi?”, Sweetie Belle asked, using a mocking tone for those last two words.

The narrator also made sure to mention how the legend also lends its name to an actual mental illness called “Wendigo Psychosis”, whereby the sufferer develops the craving for or fear of consuming human flesh. Not only is this little factoid considered about as real as it gets for a lot of people, it also quickly sucked the humor out of the room and left the fillies in awkward silence. On the other hand, the question still remained of whether the legend developed for deeper reasons. Was there something more that the Algonquin people knew about? Could there be something out there in those woods?

The Crusaders allowed the story more time to fade out fully before they even considered saying anything. They weren’t even sure what they could say about all they’ve seen. It turns out that out of all of them, Apple Bloom would be the first one willing to try speaking up.

“That… was a roller coaster.”

“Yeah.”, Sweetie Belle concurred. “Yeah, here we came into this expecting to hear about the Windigos of Equestrian legend, and then we got something totally different.”

A smile creeped onto Scootaloo’s face as she spoke.

“Yeah, this was something totally different.”

Both of her friends took notice of Scootaloo’s sudden positive shift in mood.

“What ya smilin’ about?”, asked Apple Bloom.

“It’s nothing.”, the pegasus filly answered back. “I just remembered what Sweetie Belle said earlier about the monsters in our world existing in human legend.”

“What about that?”, Sweetie asked.

“It just made me wonder if there was some sort of ‘rule’ that any monster seen in human legend must exist in our world for real.”, Scootaloo tried explaining. “But since human legends have Wen-digos, a monster that’s totally different from our Win-digos, that probably means there are other monsters in human legend that don’t exist in our world either.”

While Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle struggled to wrap their heads around this train of logic, Scootaloo continued.

“Plus, there’s never been legends of anything like those Wen-digos here in our world!”

“Well, not in Equestria.”, Apple Bloom countered. “But there might be somethin’ like the Wendigo in other countries. Ah wouldn’t be surprised if Yakyakistan has stories of a creature just like that.”

The pleasant expression on Scootaloo’s face immediately began to fade.

“Plus, we don’t know for sure if there aren’t Windigos in human myth.”, Sweetie added. “They might even just be called by a totally different name in their folklore.”

As her expression completely soured, Scootaloo passive-aggressively retorted, “Or maybe, what I said is actually true and we don’t need to argue the point further.”

Surprised by yet another mood shift from their friend, they had no time to question Scootaloo’s behavior before she got up and headed to the door.

“Where are ya goin’?”, Apple Bloom asked.

“I gotta use the bathroom. I’ll be back before you know it.”, she answered as she exited the room.

After a few seconds in silence, Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom and asked, “What’s with her?”

Author's Note

Happy Holidays everyone! Hope you enjoy your present! Especially since you all asked for this one in the poll I conducted.
For those wondering, the next one is not going to be Eleven. Though expect to see that one not too long from now.
By the way which design for the Wendigo is your favorite? I personally like to imagine that the half-deer appearance is what the spirit itself looks like. While the pale humanoid is what the people possessed by the Wendigo look like.

Our Lady of Fatima

“Come on, we can’t end the night on just two stories!”

Sweetie Belle pleaded her case to a now tired Apple Bloom, who was now feeling unnerved from the experience provided by the last story they saw.

“We ain’t got much time left tonight anyway, so we might as well just go ta bed.”, Apple Bloom reasoned. “We got school tomorrow, remember?”

Sweetie Belle immediately rolled her eyes at that.

“When did you become such a stick in the mud?”

Before Apple Bloom could make another rebuttal, the sound of somepony entering the room caught both fillies’ attention. Snapping their heads around, they saw Scootaloo coming back from her little potty break. Obviously having heard at least part of their conversation from out in the hall, the pegasus looked at them curiously.

“What are we arguing about?”, she casually asked.

Apple Bloom’s expression immediately lightened as she began to gesture towards Scootaloo.

“Ah think we might have our tie breaker.”, the farm filly said with self-assurance.

“What?”, the pegasus asked.

Sweetie Belle immediately decided to step up.

“Alright! Scootaloo, can you tell Apple Bloom that cutting the night short just to get bed on time is dumb and that we should watch more stories?”

Scootaloo blinked a few times. Just when she thought of the right question to ask however, Apple Bloom cut her off.

“And can ya tell Sweetie how much worse tomorrow’s gonna suck if we stay up all night and that we’re both too tired ta listen ta the stories anyway?”

The pegasus filly was not in the mood for being tasked with making a decision tonight, especially one that’s supposed to please everypony. Luckily for her, she already had a pretty simple answer for this. Clearing her throat, she began to speak.

“I think there’s enough time for another story. But only one more story.”, she finally answered.

In response, Sweetie Belle pumped her hoof in the air while Apple Bloom sighed in defeat.

“Well Apple Bloom, you better get scrolling.”, Sweetie smugly said as she levitated the pen to her friend before turning to her other friend. “It’s your turn to ‘choose’ the next story, Scoots.”

Wasting no time, the two other fillies got into their respective positions.

Covering her eyes and extending he hoof out, Scootaloo told Apple Bloom to scroll up. As was procedure at this point, Apple Bloom did so until Scootaloo told her to stop. When she uncovered her eyes, Scootaloo had to sound out the last part of the title as she read it.

“Our Lady of Fa-ti-ma.”

“Wonder what that one is about?”, said Sweetie Belle looking over Scootaloo’s shoulder.

“Well the title sure doesn’t give any hints.”, Scootaloo said. “Other than it’s about some lady.”

“Only one way to find out then.”

Taking Sweetie Belle’s signal, Apple Bloom immediately clicked on the story. The farm filly, as well as the other two, wasted no time in laying down on the ground, their pillows comfortingly cushioning their noggins. The story opened on a nice, pleasant-looking town; since none of the building were anywhere near tall enough to be considered skyscrapers, they didn’t outshine the trees that surrounded them. The only notable building was the one only partially seen down in the bottom left corner. On top of its high-peak roof sat a cross, though it looked slightly off; its horizontal axis was higher than it was supposed to be.

“Does this take place in a hospital?”, Sweetie Belle considered.

The narrator established the time of the setting as the Autumn of 1917. He then told of how the brutality and savagery of the First World War was threatening to finally overwhelm borders of the country simply known as Portugal. But it was also at this time that 70,000 people gathered near a rural township to witness an appearance by a virgin that was supposed to marry soon. It was then that the narrator stated the following question: what exactly happened during the “Fatima Event”?

“Just when ah started ta think that all record of World War One was lost, they finally decide ta start talkin’ about it.”, Apple Bloom remarked in a pleasantly surprised tone.

“Who’s this virgin chick, though?”, Scootaloo questioned. “And who’s she marrying?”

“Both she and her fiancé must be like royalty or something if seventy thousand people are gathering to see it in person.”, Sweetie Belle pointed out.

“There wasn’t even close to that many ponies at Shining and Cadence’s wedding!”, said Scootaloo. “They’ve gotta be like the royalty of other royalty!”

With narrowed eyes, Apple Bloom rubbed her chin with her forehoof in thought.

“Why did they feel the need ta bring up that she’s a virgin? In fact, why is ‘virgin’ the only title this lady’s been given?”

Sweetie Belle began pondering this as well.

“Was she celebrated for having stayed one for such a long time?”, she guessed.

“How is that something that’s celebrated?”, said a puzzled Scootaloo. “I thought when you’re a grown up, you get made fun of for staying a virgin past a certain age?”

“Nuh uh!”, the unicorn filly objected. “My sister says it’s always noble to save yourself for marriage.”

*snort

Sweetie Belle’s ears flicked to the source of the mocking sound, the rest of her head soon following in the same direction.

“What’s so funny, Scoots?”, she asked, scrutinizing her pegasus friend with a most suspicious stare.

“Nothing~”, replied Scootaloo in a coy, singsongy voice.

Sweetie didn’t have any more time to further press Scootaloo as the intro came to an end.

The story opened up on a small town on a hill, which the narrator identified as Ourem. It is located approximately seven miles to the northeast of Fatima. The location was originally the site of medieval watchtower, positioned to guard against “Muslim” invasion during the “crusades”. As the years passed by however, the number of residencies around the fortification steadily expanded to create a significantly larger settlement.

“Any of you think these humans’ crusades are anywhere near as noble as ours?”, Scootaloo asked the room.

Putting on her proudest smirk, Apple Bloom cheerfully answered, “There ain’t a quest more noble and gallant than helpin’ others find their special talent!”

With that, each filly took their heads off their pillows and got up to give each other a three way high-hoof.

As the narrator continued, the camera panned out to reveal ten-year-old Lucia dos Santos playing out in the midday sunshine with her two younger cousins in some fields on the outskirts of town, dated May 13th, 1917. The jovial mood surrounding the group faded. They suddenly remembered the sort of stuff that occurs in these “bedtime stories”, and the possibility of children getting in mixed up in that upset them. Not in the same way a parent or legal guardian does out of the natural instinct to be concerned about their young. It was more like they couldn’t help but see themselves and their friends when they look at those children who were only a few years younger than them.

As the children laughed and chased each other around, there wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the sky, until a sudden flash of lightning sent them running for the shelter of some nearby oak trees. The light, pattering rain outside Sweetie’s window for once didn’t reflect the flashy storm apparently brewing in the story. However, this supposed storm would soon reveal itself as something entirely different. As Lucia held nine-year-old Francisco and seven-year-old Jacinta close to her, she saw the dazzling and radiant figure of a beautiful lady dressed all in white, standing there where the lightning had struck. Despite her fears, the young girl felt drawn towards the figure and told her cousins to stay where they were as she rose and tentatively walked to meet the newcomer.

Despite only being able to view this woman’s robed/shrouded form from behind, the glowing aura emanating from her was enough to tell the Crusaders that she was not only a powerful, but a comfortingly maternal presence.

Apple Bloom felt like she was getting goosebumps just watching her.

“The only one ah’ve seen give off these sorta vibes was Princess Celestia herself.”, she squeaked in awe.

With wide eyes, Sweetie Belle pondered aloud, “Does that mean she’s a human equivalent of an Alicorn?”

As Lucia approached, the lady bore a kind smile and introduced herself as Mary, the virgin mother of Jesus Christ.

“Her name is Mary?”, Sweetie said right before she had a disappointing realization. “So there’s not going to be a wedding, then!?”

The other two fillies had more important questions on their minds.

“Are we gonna learn anythin’ about her son? He sounds like a big deal if she’s specifically introducin’ herself as his momma.”, Apple Bloom thought.

“Was this Jesus guy adopted by her?”, Scootaloo wondered. “Cause unless my aunts left some really important stuff out when they gave me ‘the talk’, there’s no way she can be a virgin if she gave birth to him.”

The lady motioned for the other children to approach, but Francisco would not be moved, insistent he could not see what the girls were experiencing.

“Why can’t he see her?”, Apple Bloom questioned. “Is she only visible ta girls?”

“Unless…”, Scootaloo whispered to herself while rubbing her chin.

She gulped after a scary thought came to her mind.

“…she’s a ghost!”

When the apparition advised him to say the “Rosary”, he immediately gained the ability to see her, and cautiously stepped forwards to join his sister and cousin.

“Is ‘the Rosary’ a name for a spell?”, Sweetie briefly considered. “No, no. Twilight said humans don’t know how to use magic.”

Scootaloo, meanwhile, was busy worrying for little Francisco’s safety.

“Don’t go near her! She might be luring you in so she can steal your soul!”

The story transitioned to all the surrounding the figure. Each of them had their both of their hands pressed together in front of their faces. The fillies weren’t sure if that was supposed to be a pleading/begging gesture or if that was actually a salute. It turns out it didn’t matter whether they saw her from the front or back. The light she emitted was too bright for them to make out her features. The figure explained that she would reappear to the children on the same date over the next few months, and that together they would end the horrific war that threatened to consume their country.

Scootaloo’s fear of this spirit woman quickly melted away, quickly being replaced by newfound respect.

“Woah!”

The other two couldn’t help but admire this lady and her mission as well. However, the smiles that erupted on their faces wouldn’t last long as their friend then uttered something incredibly baffling.

“Is she gonna give them powers!?”

“What?”, said Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, both turning their heads toward Scootaloo, who began to clarify.

“I mean, she just said she wants to help them end this war. How else does she expect a buncha little kids to put a stop to it unless they got the power to do it.”

Eyes closed while attempting to wrap her head around what she just heard, Sweetie Belle raised both of her hooves up.

“Wait. Let me just get this straight.”,she said before summarizing as best she could.

“You think that this lady is going to stop this worldwide conflict by assembling a super hero team out of a rag-tag group of random kids who will use their powers, which were gifted to them by her, to make all the countries stop fighting.”

Without hesitation, Scootaloo swiftly confirmed all that Sweetie had stated.

“Yup.”, she said, before adding, “Kinda like their world’s version of the Elements of Harmony.”

“Ya realize that when the Element bearers had ta stop a war between Appleloosa and the Buffalo tribe, they didn’t end it by blastin’ both sides with the Elements of Harmony, right?”, Apple Bloom questioned without even attempting to hide the snark in her tone.

The lady, or Mary as she’s called, then asked Lucia to offer up a daily prayer for peace until their next meeting, before rising and vanishing into thin air. The excited children immediately ran straight to their homes to tell their bewildered parents what had just taken place. Word spread quickly throughout the small town and when the children returned to the spot four weeks later, they were accompanied by a crowd of approximately fifty curious onlookers; on-screen the story transitioned to an illustration of that exact event, with the onlooking adults filling up the foreground and the children in a field off in the near distance kneeling in a semi-circle on the grass.

Sweetie raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Was everyone in town really that bored?”

“Ah don’t think they were necessarily desperate for entertainment.”, Apple Bloom retorted whilst wearing a glum expression of pity. “They were desperately searchin’ for hope wherever they could find it.”

After a short time, the vision descended from the skies and asked the children to pray with her, before again vanishing before their very eyes. None of the adults who were present witnessed the shining figure appear, but they saw the three children apparently speaking and interacting with something. Several claimed to see the branches and foliage around the children disturbed by an invisible force that entered and then subsequently left the location. The following month, a crowd of several hundred gathered to watch as Lucia and her cousins again apparently spoke to the Virgin Mary. Witnesses this time reported a mysterious haze that seemed to envelop the children, before rising up again into the heavens.

“Maybe this means this ‘Mary’ lady is one of this world’s gods?”, Scootaloo suggested.

“Hmmm.”, Sweetie Belle rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she considered this.

“My gut’s tellin’ me that ain’t exactly what she is.”, Apple Bloom said.

“Me too.”, Sweetie concurred. “Something about her title, ‘virgin mother’ doesn’t scream ‘goddess’ to me. If she were one, she’d probably be explicitly called as such.”

Soon, rumors of the visions spread to the local authorities, who took a dim view of the situation. They decided to detain and question the children on August 13th, in order to prevent the assembly from again taking place.

“What!?”

Apple Bloom was baffled by the police’s actions.

Sweetie managed to get her stop hanging agape, saying, “Are these supposed to be the fun police!? What did those kids do wrong?”

“I heard actions like these are pretty common in wartime.”

Both Sweetie and Apple Bloom flicked their curious ears towards the one who spoke up.

The latter asked, “Where did ya hear that, Scoots?”

“Ocellus told me.”, the pegasus filly answered simply before elaborating. “She said that back when Chrysalis still ruled, the hive considered itself to always be at war.”

She paused before continuing, “That meant they were always looking for any weird or suspicious behavior as a way to spot traitors or sabotage. So, someone talking to thin air would definitely get arrested and questioned.”

The narrator went on to explain that the kids would speak with the apparition a fourth time.

Apple Bloom, along with her two friends, breathed a sigh of relief at the news that the children were let go.

“For a sec, ah thought they were gonna put ‘em in a nuthouse.”

After speaking with her, young Lucia turned to the assembled crowds and informed them that Mary would visit for one final time the following month, and this time would reveal herself to everyone who attended. Three weeks later, people were traveling from across the length and breadth of the land, desperate to catch a glimpse of the “Lady of the Rosary”.

“There’s another title she goes by. Doesn’t help though.”, Sweetie Belle thought. “If only they’d tell us what a Rosary is.”

“How did word get out to the entire country that quickly?”, Scootaloo wondered.

“Portugal might be a small country.”, Apple Bloom answered with a shrug.

As the story transitioned to its next illustration, the narrator began to speak of the events at “Ourem” on the morning of October 13th, 1917, which are referred to by the “Catholic Church” as “The Miracle of the Sun”. It had been raining heavily for most of the previous evening, and the attending crowds had been forced to negotiate freshly sodden and muddy footpaths in order to reach the site. Now, as midday approached the rains had finally eased off, but the skies remained angry and sullenly overcast.

“Angry?”, said a puzzled Scootaloo. “When do skies get angry?”

An equally curious Apple Bloom asked, “Do these humans in Portugal worship the sky?”

“Isn’t that a bit primitive?”, said Sweetie Belle.

“Sweetie!”, Apple Bloom chastised. “Ya shouldn’t look down on others for who they worship.”

An improvised wooden shrine was thrown together, and now a crowd of seventy thousand people stood in front of it. They were a diverse mixture of faithful worshippers, skeptics and idle curiosity seekers, all waiting for some kind of sign that the Virgin Mary truly had come down from heaven to walk amongst their number. As the crowds watched on impatiently, three small figures dressed in flowing white robes were gently lifted onto a hastily erected platform that stood before them. With the people waiting expectantly, Lucia had stepped forward to announce that the Virgin Mary was now present and had chosen to entrust her and her cousins with a series of holy secrets and truths. The trio of fillies immediately had their minds run wild about all the possible knowledge that could be granted to them and began wondering what they would ask an entity as powerful as this Virgin Mary or Equestria’s two former diarchs.

Without hesitation, Apple Bloom would’ve asked this Mary lady how the afterlife was treating her granny. Scootaloo wished she could ask Luna if dreams can predict the future; or better yet, ask Mary if she could teach her how to see into the future herself. She felt like she and the ones around her were getting blindsided quite a lot, recently. Sweetie Belle, personally, only had one question that she would ask this Mary who possessed so much spiritual knowledge and wisdom. It was one that she had been trying to get Ocellus to answer, who for some reason became really evasive whenever she asked: if changelings only feed on love, do they still have to poop?

Once again, it appeared that nobody other than the children was able to see the astral visitor, but there would be plenty of witnesses to what would happen next. The Crusaders’ attention was peaked as they saw the image pan out enough to reveal a large crowd staring up at the sky; the fillies knew to prepare themselves for what they suspected was the story’s climax. Lucia then announced that Mary, the mother of their Lord Jesus Christ, was going to be the one to finally end the Great War that had been raging for the last three years. Here and now, she would demonstrate her mighty powers to the assembled crowd as proof she was capable of making good on this promise to them.

Apple Bloom beamed.

“She’s gonna wipe that Hitler jerk off the map!”, she declared.

“That was World War Two. This one is set during the first.”, Sweetie Belle corrected.

“You can’t prove that he wasn’t around to start both wars.”, the earth pony rationalized.

“Maybe.”, conceded the unicorn. “But if he was around to cause trouble later, then she obviously didn’t destroy him.”

Lucia then turned and raised her hands towards the skies, before this movement was mirrored by her younger cousins, Francisco and Jacinta. The next illustration then showed many in the crowd mimicking this action as the narrator talked about how descriptions of exactly what took place after this do varied somewhat. However, pretty much all those who were present agreed on some level that they saw the clouds above them slowly part and the sun began to shine down on the upturned faces of the watching masses. Many claim that the light that was generated by this development was in fact strong enough to dry their rain-sodden clothes and once again bake the damp ground beneath their feet so that it was solid enough for them to stand upon.

As the realization of what was going on made the fillies’ jaws drop, the narrator continued explaining how a significant number of witnesses would go on to describe how the sun started move around in the skies above them in an extraordinary and sometimes frightening manner. Some people described the movement as a slow rotation or cartwheeling motion. To others, it started to gyrate around its axis with some speed, much the some way a child’s spinning top would move. In some testimonies by those present, they claim the sun morphed from a bright orange to a deep dark purple, and then back again; others stated it changed to a silvery metallic color, still clearly visible but almost intangible to behold. In a minority of cases, witnesses reported seeing streamers and flashes of light issuing forth from the heavenly body, descending to the ground below.

With every detail, the Crusaders only became more amazed.

“Holy shit!”, Scootaloo finally exclaimed.

“Is… is this lady is like the Celestia of the human world!?”

Apple Bloom couldn’t help but shake her head following Sweetie Belle’s question.

“Ah… can’t believe ah’m sayin’ this, but ah haven’t even seen Celestia show this level of control over the sun.”

The narrator began clarifying how it was the descriptions of the sun’s rapid movements back and forward across the sky that were most disturbing. Countless reports described the sun violently zigzagging from side to side, whilst others state the sun suddenly accelerated towards the ground, burning with a fiery intensity before again returning to normal.

“I’m more amazed by the color changing than that, personally.”, Sweetie Belle said. “I’ve never seen the sun turn purple or silver.”

“You also haven’t seen the sun hurtling down towards you from the sky, either.”, Scootaloo pointed out.

This amazing turn of events would continue for another ten minutes, evoking screams of both joy and terror from those watching below. Lucia then slowly lowered her arms back down to her sides and turned to face the masses. The clouds rolled back in overhead to once again obscure the sun and its activities from the terrified crowds. The three girls watching were more than impressed at the sheer power being wielded by children even younger than they were.

“If Lucia and her little cousins are able ta handle all that power, maybe we could one day wield the Elements of Harmony and be heroes like our big sisters.”, Apple Bloom said, her voice reflecting growing sense of wonder as she imagined using the elements against Equestria’s newest baddie alongside her friends.

She then somepony touch her shoulder, prompting her to turn her head and find a smiling Sweetie Belle comfortingly grabbing onto her shoulder as well as Scootaloo lifting her head high enough off her pillow to beam directly at her.

“Don’t forget.”, Sweetie Belle spoke up. “There ain’t a goal more noble, gallant or heroic than helpin’ ponies find their special talent.”

Apple Bloom smirked and playfully rolled her eyes at Sweetie’s attempt to imitate her accent. She would’ve thanked her friends, but this was frankly getting corny enough as is. So, she just went back to watching the story instead. Besides, they knew she always appreciated gestures like those.

In the immediate aftermath of the incident, “the church” despatched a number of local priests in order to conduct an official investigation into what happened. Their orders were to evaluate if what was reported was compatible and acceptable with the church’s traditional teachings, and then present their findings to the local “bishop”.

“Is this ‘Catholic Church’ up to some Men in Black type stuff?”, Scootaloo wondered.

“What?”, Sweetie Belle puzzled. “No. They’re not covering anything up. They probably worship this ‘Mary’ girl.”

“It amazes me how much we bring up the Men in Black even when they have nothin’ ta do with the story we’re watchin’.”, Apple Bloom griped slightly.

As part of their investigations, the priests had conducted hundreds of interviews with some of the people who had been present and were reportedly struck by two things. Firstly, there was a wild degree of variance in what individual people reported having seen that day. And secondly, the number of witnesses was spread widely across the different demographics and groups who had attended, regardless of their own personal beliefs or levels of faith. The narrator then declared that there was little doubt that something truly awe-inspiring had taken place in that damp little country field, and that those who were present largely believed it to have been an act of God.

“Shouldn’t that first point cast some doubt on the whole event?”, Sweetie Belle pointed out.

Apple Bloom privately did have to acknowledge that was a pretty bold declaration from their typically skeptical narrator. Still, a part of her really, really wanted to agree with that sentiment. It wasn’t like the previous stories where it was actually relieving to see holes poked in the stories and reports of monsters and horrific incidents. The prospect of this lady’s existence would’ve added something actually positive to the world of these humans. It also took her back to a time not so long ago when she dared to believe in folktales meant to inspire hope. The Great Seedling being the first to come to mind.

The huge volume and compelling nature of the testimonies of those who were involved were certainly enough to convince the Catholic Church that the incident was indeed a genuine visitation by the Virgin Mary. Successive church leaders would go on to spend many years investigating the event, right up until the present day. As recently as 2017, “Pope Francis” officially classified the event as a holy miracle and opened proceedings that paved the way for all three children to be canonized.

“Woah, woah, woah!”

Scootaloo waved her forelegs back and forth trying to halt the narrator from further speaking.

“Who repays someone who does all that super cool stuff by basting them apart with a canon ball?!”

“Ah don’t think that’s what they mean.”, Apple Bloom tried to explain.

“You mean they’re going to be shot out of the canon?”

“No!”

While the exasperated farm filly defeatedly put her head in her own hooves, the narrator carried explaining how not all commentators and observers placed so much faith in such religious explanations. This has given rise to a altogether different slants to what took place. One of the biggest being that the incident was actually an extra-terrestrial visitation rather than a holy one.

“Wuh?”, said Apple Bloom, taking her face out of her hooves.

The other two were just as perplexed as they listened to the narrator elaborate. The biggest basis for this explanation was that the solar effects described by the witnesses were not reported anywhere else in the world that day other than the Fatima site itself. This meant that it can only have been a localized occurrence. Given this fact, is it possible that the entity viewed by the children might instead have been a visitor from another planet, and that the bright light seen moving around the sky was some form of craft as opposed to the sun itself? Sweetie Belle rubbed her chin as she considered the point that was just raised.

“I guess that is a major hole in the story if no one else outside of Fatima saw the sun zooming around.”, she conceded. “Still, isn’t it kind of weird to assume it’s aliens?”

“I was kind of thinking the same thing, at first.”, Scootaloo confessed. “But if it isn’t magic or aliens what else could it be?”

Whether a true miracle or an extra-terrestrial visitation, the fact remains that many people witnessed the event, some in wildly different ways to others, and many saw nothing at all.

“What!? So, not everyone saw the miracle!?”

Apple Bloom’s thoughts were pretty much echoed by her friends.

The narrator then postulated that the occurrence was either deeply personal or some form of optical illusion that not everyone was in a position to experience in the same way. With that, he offered a third explanation. That being that the witnesses were seeing an optical phenomenon known as a “Sundog” or “Mock Sun” or as it’s known technically, a “parhelion”. It consists of one or two intensely bright halos of light appearing to form alongside the sun. The Crusaders marveled at the illustration giving such a nice pretty view of this event, though they wished they were seeing it in color.

Parhelia are caused when the sun’s rays are reflected back by patches of ice crystals which have formed int the upper atmosphere. To observers on the ground, it appears as if the sun’s mass is gradually increasing or decreasing in size, dependent upon how large the patch of crystals is, which the light is passing over. They are not restricted to any one geographical area or type of weather system and are something that has historically been witnessed all over the globe. This made sense, since the Crusaders all realized that they actually have seen this event before in person.

“Still, ain’t the timin’ for that way too convenient?”, Apple Bloom argued. “A parhelion just happens ta show up when Lucia announces that Mary will show off her powers?”

“Also, how did so many people see the sun changing color and zigzagging across the sky?”, Scootaloo added. “Those ‘sundogs’ are nothing like that.”

Coincidentally, the narrator proceeded to acknowledge the very same points that Scootaloo raised. In the face of this, he offered another meteorological explanation. This time, it involved the sun’s color altering subtly when incoming light is reflected off droplets of moisture in the atmosphere. It was also possible that the reports of the sun resembling a silvery spinning disk may have been the result of thin, almost indiscernible clouds passing across and impairing the vision of those watching from below.

“This just makes me wish Rainbow Dash was here.”, Scootaloo sighed. “She used to be on the weather team, so she could probably explain all of this.”

The narrator then pointed out how staring directly at the sun for any sustained period of time can cause significant damage to the retina. Even spending a limited amount of time trying to focus on a powerful light source such as a light bulb can cause minor damage to the eye, and the illusion of movement as the eye muscles start to tire and overly relaxed. Having laid the groundwork to suggest that it could have been a combination of meteorological effects and optical illusion that the people of Fatima were witnessing, the more skeptical observers then turn to the psychological aspects and mentality of viewing an incident as part of a crowd.

“They ain’t gonna suggest everyone there temporarily went crazy, are they?”, Apple Bloom glumly speculated.

In this case, the vast majority of those who attended had an expectation or burning desire to see something happen, which was enough to persuade not only themselves, but also those around them that a miracle was taking place.

“Ponies… or people, see what they wanna believe.”, Sweetie Belle summarized.

Noticing the sheer disappointment written all over Apple Bloom’s face, the unicorn then patted her on the shoulder.

The scientific term for such phenomena is Pareidolia and is something that critics of religious sightings have often fallen back on in order to undermine what has been reported. As witnesses testify to having seen humbling and fantastic images, what they describe naturally goes on to influence and taint the mental image for others who are watching. There have also been numerous alleged appearances by the Virgin Mary throughout the years and the argument against a majority of them is that when the idea or image of Mary is placed into the minds of the public by media after one sighting has been reported a certain percentage of people will then suddenly start to see the face of Mary everywhere they look, from smoke rings and shadows to foodstuffs and coffee stains.

Sweetie Belle snorted.

“That reminds me of the time Rarity got offended after I said the shape of a mound in Opal’s litter box looked a little bit like her.”, she admitted with a facial expression that was somehow half embarrassed and half pleased with herself.

While Scootaloo burst into a wheezing fit of laughter, Apple Bloom stewed at the narrator’s words.

“Ya know what, ah don’t care what he says.”, she declared. “If what ya say is true, Sweetie Belle, then there is some magic in these humans’ world. And that means it’s most obvious explanation.”

The story then cut to the first up close image of what was described as the most regularly scrutinized element of the story, Lucia herself. She stood there, wearing a modest long-sleeved plaid shirt and lengthy skirt. Her most distinctive article of clothing was the veil hanging directly from the top of her head and draping all the way down to her hips, or possibly even past them from the looks of it. The way she faced directly at the viewer was like she was posing for a photo, except that the look on her face was a perfect mask of sternness that was a far cry from the expressions that any of the three fillies were expected to where when posing for a picture. The Crusaders weren’t sure why she looked so serious in this particular image, but they could only guess that Lucia was constantly feeling the weight of the glorious purpose bestowed upon her by the Virgin Mary.

Cynics are quick to point out that Lucia was the youngest of seven sisters, with a five-year gap between her and her next oldest sibling.

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Scootaloo inquired.

From an early age she played her sisters and parents off against each other, striving to be the center of attention by spinning tall tales and fantastic stories. All three Crusaders began to pout as they were all little sisters themselves, even if Scootaloo would technically only be a surrogate one. So, the character assassination they were putting Lucia through for being the littlest sibling naturally felt like an attack on them.

“Every single critic who said that about Lucia was definitively the big sibling in their family. So biased!”, Sweetie complained with her forehooves crossed.

Tragically, both Francisco and Jacinta would be claimed by the “Spanish Flu” that ravaged “Europe” in the aftermath of the war. So, the only real source of information about what the children saw would be Lucia. Upon hearing this, the fillies’ outrage fizzled out to make way for sympathy in regards to Lucia and her family’s loss. They continued to listen as it was told how over the years her account has been altered and revised to no small degree, and many of her predictions have only arrived years after the events she described took place.

World War One did not end for another year after the incident and it would not be until 1927 that she claimed Mary had foretold that her cousins would die at a young age. She also said that the spirit had shown her visions of soldiers executing a bishop in the ruins of a great city. Some have tried to tie this to the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II, but even Lucia’s own mother disowned her testimony, giving interviews to state that the girl was a fantasist and a trickster. The fillies grew more and more uncomfortable as the evidence against Lucia piled up. Mere minutes ago she was an inspiration for kids like them to accomplish great feats, now she was shaping up to be a disappointment.

“It musta been tough, though. Havin’ your own momma call ya a liar ta the whole world.”, Apple Bloom considered.

According to the narrator, it was actually rare for the papal authorities to so readily accept an incident so miraculous in nature, but the witness accounts of several thousand people made for a compelling case. Even taking into account the undermining factors of mass hysteria and suggestion, the possibility that something extraordinary did take place in front of the assembled crowd is very real. The actions of Lucia in the years after the incident have done little to improve her credibility, but none of these issues explain what it was people saw or how it made them feel. Nor can they explain the sheer coincidence that something truly significant occurred in the skies overhead at exactly the time it was predicted by the children. Apple Bloom felt a smile creep onto her muzzle now that she finally heard her point from earlier acknowledged.

The narrator then posited his own idea for how the supernatural works; some people see it, some people don’t. Both groups accuse each other of being uninformed or crazy and this is, of course, why they divide themselves into skeptics and believers. Sweetie Belle let loose a hum of intrigue.

“You know, that is kind of how it works here too.”

Scootaloo turned to her and asked, “Where?”

“Here. In Equestria.”

“How so?”, Apple Bloom chimed in.

“You know. It’s like how only one pony in this room can use magic…”, the unicorn pointed at her own horn before taking it away to gesture back at Apple Bloom. “…and the others can’t.”

Rather than the ending the analogy there, she unfortunately began elaborating even further. She then pointed her hoof at Scootaloo.

“Or how some ponies can fly but only one…”, she paused mid-sentence as she looked at the tiny, pathetic wings on her friend’s back, suddenly remembered a certain detail about her flightless friend.

“Or I guess nopony here in this room can…”, she finished a forced, but appropriately sheepish smile.

“Ah ha. Ha. Ha! HA!”

The pegasus filly’s little mock laughter session had her face start out as a perfect mask of joviality that by the end slipped off to reveal her scorn.

Meanwhile, the narrator was busy discussing how the most interesting aspect of the Fatima event is that so many skeptics who were present testified to witnessing the spectacle. Many believers who were also there that day, on the other hand, saw absolutely nothing. Whether one genuinely believes that for one day only, the mysteries of heaven revealed themselves to mankind, or that some other inexplicable force visited earth under the guise of a miraculous event, it is difficult to deny that something truly humbling and extraordinary did take place in a quiet corner of Portugal, roughly one hundred years ago.

The Crusaders simply looked on at the illustration of Mary’s bright astral form, who slowly faded out of the picture until only the field she was standing in could still be seen. With that, the story faded to black, signifying its end.

“Ah gotta say, even though ah am bummed that Lucia might’ve made that all up…”, Apple Bloom spoke up. “Ah’m still happy ah watched this one.”

“Yeah. It really washed out the bad aftertaste from the last story. I had a lot more fun.”, Scootaloo concurred. “Still, there’s one thing that’s bugging me.”

“What?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“If it has nothing to do with canons, then what does ‘canonize’ mean?”, the pegasus filly inquired. “You never explained that.”

“Oh.”, the unicorn said, realizing it was her job to answer. “Well, in this case, when they say they’ll canonize someone like Lucia and her cousins, it would mean they’re officially declaring them as people who should be considered good and virtuous.”

She then began tapping her own chin, looking up thoughtfully.

“At least, according to their own doctrine. Basically, they’re calling them saints.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes shined with simultaneous realization and recollection.

“Oh! Ya mean like how the Seven Pillars of Equestria were categorized as saints after they disappeared? Or how Cadence was, immediately after she became an alicorn?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Maybe that’s what this Mary girl used to be, back when she was alive.”, Scootaloo suggested.

“You mean a saint?”, asked Sweetie.

After Scootaloo nodded her head, Apple Bloom gave an answer.

“Ah guess it would make sense. Ah’m pretty sure they briefly mentioned that she only works for their god, rather than bein’ a god herself. She probably did a ton of good stuff in the process.”

“Weird that they didn’t mention the god’s name, though.”

Before Scootaloo’s observation could be explored any further, Sweetie Belle came back with her own entirely different question.

“Do you think the Element bearers have done enough to be called saints?”

Apple Bloom looked as if she was shocked Sweetie would even need to ask that.

“We’d probably be up all night tryin’ ta list all the ways they’ve saved the day! Princess Twilight would definitely have ta canonize them after they’re gone!”

A big grin formed on Scootaloo’s face.

“Yeah…”, she said. “I can totally picture their titles now. Rainbow Dash the loyal and awesome, Applejack the honest, Rarity the generous, Fluttershy the kind and Pinkie Pie the…”

The little orange pegasus halted her speaking, drawing a blank for Pinkie Pie’s title.

“…the funny one?”

That got her a reaction from the other two in the form of snorts followed immediately by chuckling, which then evolved into cackling. It wasn’t long before she started joining in.

“Heh, heh, heh… phew.”, Apple Bloom sighed, before checking the time. “Well, ah dunno about you two, but ah’ll just make mah way ta the bathroom and brush mah teeth.”

She then got off the floor and headed out of the room, soon followed by Sweetie Belle getting up to join her. Watching the two walk out the door, Scootaloo was getting up to follow them. She was halted in her tracks when her ears suddenly picked up a weird, faint little noise from behind her. It reminded of the scratchy squeaks and screeches her aunt’s rocking chair made, but somehow it also sounded… alive.

She cautiously turned her head back to face Sweetie Belle’s window, assuming that’s the only reasonable place it could have come from. What she saw made her leap back at what she saw. Or partially saw. Whatever was just out the window had scurried out of view too quickly for her to make out any details. The sound of creaking on the roof outside made her back to the door and speed trotted out. She wasn’t sure, but as her mind tried processing the image she just bore witness to, she could’ve sworn that it was a wing she saw. A big one too.

Author's Note

Figured this would also be fitting for the season, given how one of the most important actors in Jesus’ birth is the focus here.
As always, do not forget to leave your thoughts in the comments below. It always lets me know that my audience is still here.
Have a Happy New Year! :twilightsmile:

Nighttime Stroll

Despite there being barely a cloud in the sky, the wind was coming out in full force. Though it wasn’t the storm that the town of Ponyville had to weather a couple days before. Still, these gusts were hard to miss, especially with how wildly the trees in their path swished all over the place with abandon. Had the breeze been any stronger, it would start stripping the trees of all their loosely hanging leaves like someone blowing all the pappus off a dandelion. While this weather may have been a bit unfriendly, it certainly wasn’t bad enough to scare the one pony outside from continuing her path down Ponyville’s streets.

The little filly was able to withstand the chilling breeze coming at her from behind thanks entirely to the coat she put on before leaving Carousel Boutique. Despite how much of a comforting cocoon of warmth this parka was, it didn’t entirely keep her from shivering. Even though she wanted to blame it completely on the back half of her body still being exposed, that wasn’t entirely true. The filly’s ears clamped down to her head to block out the howls of the wind; despite the lack of snowfall, if folklore proved correct then there might just be some Windigos close by. She didn’t have much longer to dwell on that possibility as she spotted a path to her right, which she immediately zipped down the direction of.

Scootaloo, the filly in focus, was out here trotting to her aunts’ temporary residence, a dingy little shack on the northwest side of town. Or, that’s what she was doing initially, until she took that sudden right turn. The path she shifted onto just happened to lead to her and her aunts’ actual house that they were forced to move out of in the meantime after that one fateful night. So, there was only one possible reason for her to make such a sudden change of course, despite having come out here specifically to check and see if her sweet little aunties were okay.

She wasn’t sure why she felt like she needed to stop by the house before she paid her aunts a surprise visit. It’s not like she could expect anything to change since she was last there. Even if she took a look from behind, all she’d see was a house with its upstairs going under repairs. Actually, now that she thought about it, it would be nice to check up on the progress the repairponies had made so far; they did promise she and her aunts would be able to start moving back by the end of the month, after all. Though, deep down she realized that wasn’t really the reason why.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Scootaloo felt like she just needed to check up on her house. It wasn’t quite the same as her desire to see her aunts; that one she could somewhat rationalize. At first, it was out of concern over the possibility that the dingy little shack they’ve taken residence in, which couldn’t possibly be up to code, would collapse in the harsh storms. While she did find out that morning the place was perfectly fine, the question of whether her legal guardians were okay was still up in the air. So, why was she wasting her time stopping by their house first when there shouldn’t be anything there?

Each of these thoughts ate at the pegasus filly’s brain like they were maggots. She couldn’t help but feel more and more tense as she dwelled on the subject. The possibility her hasty conclusion that not only her aunts but her own house were under threat was entirely unfounded paranoia and some inexplicable, irrational compulsion was uncomfortable to put it mildly. Yet, the one explanation she had at their back of her mind for why they might actually be in danger was admittedly even scarier.

“I really hope Rainbow, Princess Twilight and the rest of the Elements will listen to me if I have to tell them… it is here.”

It was silly, she knew, that she not even dare mention in her own mind the entity plaguing her dreams for the past few days.

“Maybe I really am getting paranoid.”, she considered before immediately deciding to cut this train of thought short.

As she shambled through the dimly lit streets of her neighborhood, Scootaloo let out an involuntary yawn. How late was it again? Well, it really didn’t matter to her how late it was anyway, school night or not. She just didn’t have any patience left in her to wait when she needed so desperately to know if her family was okay. Just then, her ears just barely managed to pick up a most ominous sound; faintly, through all the howling winds, an unusual hiss interjected itself into the eerie emptiness of the street’s atmosphere.

Springing into attention, the filly’s eyes jerked every imaginable direction that was above and/or around her. She had to pull down her coat’s hood in order to open her peripheral vision and to make sure her hearing wasn’t obscured. Head held high, she scanned the area above her for anything standing on the roofs of the neighborhood’s houses or a silhouette passing over the stars in the sky. Her flicking ears could no longer detect hissing anywhere. While she wanted to assume this meant she imagined it, it was entirely possible that the wind was now doing a better job of hiding the shrill noise.

Just when she got the hood back on, something once again made Scootaloo jump. Another distant noise, yet it was much, much louder; it was a rumble followed by a crash, further accompanied by the sound of splitting wood and broken glass. To find the source, Scootaloo need only look ahead of her. Less than half a mile away, she could see a tall cloud of dust forming on her side of the street. She stood there in absolute shock, only to have her moment of frightened awe intruded by a dreadful realization.

“Oh no…”

The filly then got into full sprint, her anxiety propelling her forward like a rocket.

“No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no!!!”

At the speed she was going, Scootaloo was on track to breaking her personal record which was set when she had to run away from that Ursa Minor that stormed through Ponyville. It was amazing what fear and panic could make the body do. She was laser-focused on the crumbling house ahead; well, almost laser-focused. As she got closer and closer to the disaster she witnessed, the pegasus filly noticed something curious.

“Where is everypony?”

Indeed, despite how that collapsing house obviously should’ve been more than enough to rouse the entire neighborhood from its slumber. Yet, as she looked to both sides of the street, Scootaloo saw nopony stepping outside onto their doormats to see what the commotion was about. She didn’t even see lights turning on in the houses. As far as she could see, the town every bit as lifeless as it was when she came out here. There’s no way Ponyville became a ghost town before the sun even rose, especially without her noticing, what with her not getting any sleep tonight. So, why was there nopony around?

Amazingly, her mind became so preoccupied with these questions that she nearly passed her destination. Scootaloo noticed the demolished pile of rubble coming up on her right. The high winds were still picking much of the dust and debris left by the collapse. She chose to pump the brakes, kicking up her own cloud by planting her hooves to the ground and sliding to a halt. She spun around to face directly at the mountain of splintered wood, brick and shattered glass in front of her.

Her lungs were already desperately heaving as much air as they could get after all that galloping. The sight before her did nothing to ease her hyperventilation, bringing her to a state of hysteria that was just below a full blown panic attack. For the second time that night, the filly’s own realization and all the terror it brought enveloped her and smothered her, much like the gusts of wind blasting her from all directions. The pressure was becoming so unbearable that she didn’t feel like standing, though she did anyway. She knew couldn’t handle looking at it much longer, but she had no idea what to do other than stare with watering eyes at the scrap heap that was her home.

Scootaloo’s rapidly-beating heart felt like it leaped out her chest when the banshee-like moans of the wind were once again suddenly interrupted by a strange hiss, the exact same one from mere minutes ago. Except this time she could tell exactly which direction it was coming from, directly behind her. She did as her instincts told her and immediately spun around to face the source of the noise, though a part of her wished she didn’t. She should’ve just booked it as soon as she heard the spine-tingling sound, not even bothering to find out the identity of the stalker who’d just made themselves known. Turning around, what she saw made her back up more and more until until she bumped against her house’s front door, somehow in one piece unlike the rest of the building.

It stood on top of the roof of the house across the street. Its image for a moment looked like it had become the new icon printed upon the moon in place of where Nightmare Moon’s visage once was. It stood upright on two legs, it’s form silhouetted against the backdrop, towering over her. The only other features that could be spotted were the wings folded to its sides and its two round, red eyes glowing like the celestial body that it stood in front of. There was denying it, she was in the presence of the dreaded creature, the Mothman.

Out of nowhere, the wind calmed to an eerie quiet, though it wasn’t absolute silence. There was still a light breeze that could be both heard and felt blowing through the streets. Everything that was in the wind’s path was coming to life with motion, from the swishing leaves to the ringing wind chimes. Their sounds echoed across the neighborhood. The only things that stayed still besides lining both sides of the street were the two living figures standing on opposite sides, one looking down from its high point at the other, signifying perfectly the powerless of the latter in the face of the former.

The way its eyes seemed to look right through her made her throat go dry. She was too fixated on the creature to move and she was too petrified to scream or even let out a gulp. The heavy coat she wore to help her stay warm now only helped to accelerate the nervous sweats building up on her body. The sweat wasn’t only that wetted her face, tears that had initially began to form when she saw her house now poured freely down her cheeks. Her breathing only got even heavier.

For several long moments, neither moving a single muscle. It wasn’t clear which one would make the first move, but it wouldn’t be long before that answer was revealed. The creature on the roof suddenly spread its legs further apart, crouched low and spread its wings in preparation for take off. The second she saw movement by the Mothman, Scootaloo immediately began running. She ran back in the direction she came, wanting to get back to Rarity’s place for safety. Celestia be dammed, she wasn’t going to stop and knock on somepony else’s door just to be snatched up by the winged beast before whoever’s inside comes down to let her in. Even if they were closer.

It truly was horrible timing that she had tired herself severely after sprinting her way to her house. She hadn’t even gotten very far and she was already getting wheezy. Still, the sound of beating wings from behind her growing closer and closer did well to remind her that she had to keep the pace up or else. She got a lucky break when she spotted a path to her, one that she knew would take her to the town’s center and main street. After taking the right turn, she felt a chill course through her body as she heard the creature’s monstrous shriek, even though she was still sweating.

The more she kept running closer to the center of town, the more she realized how much of a problem her parka was becoming. The coat was so heavy and hot that it was slowing her down significantly. Despite her head start, she would not be able to make it back like this. So, she decided to take the opportunity to slow down a bit so that she may pull down her hood and take off her jacket.

Unfortunately, she still managed to underestimate how quickly this being could catch up with her. Almost halfway through unbuttoning her coat, Scootaloo felt yanked off the ground, slowly ascending upward into the air as she felt the ground disappear beneath her hooves. After letting out a much-needed wail of terror, she looked straight up to confirm that the Mothman was indeed lifting her by the hood of her coat, which she was now dangling from. The creature didn’t look down at her, only straight ahead at something she couldn’t pinpoint; probably at wherever it was planning to take her.

The poor little pegasus squirmed and writhed in a manner much like every prey animal has when in her situation. Her panicking mind managed to clear up enough to realize what she needed to do. In one single motion, she lifted both of her arms and allowed her slide out of her jacket. Unfortunately, that left her falling from around eleven feet in the air.

“AHHHH-OOF!”

She felt her hind legs land first and then was unfortunate to have the displeasure of getting the wind knocked out of her as the rest of her body came crashing down to earth. She both had to catch her breath and wait for the world around her to stop rocking before she could stand up. She fought through the splitting headache she was suffering to stand up, only to feel a different pain shoot up through her right hind leg. Scootaloo hissed, grunted, and let out a wave of whining before opting to take the weight off of that one leg for now. Suddenly, she then felt a little “present” delivered to her face, courtesy of the wind that was once again picking up speed.

She peeled the item off and looked down through teary eyes to see her coat cradled in her arms, now with claw marks plain and visible, even in the dark. However, her attention was soon ripped away from it when the monster’s cry once again echoed nearby. Following the direction of the screech, the filly turned towards her two o’ clock position. With her vision clearing fully, she she saw the Mothman thirty feet in the air, not only flying but gradually diving back towards her at blistering speeds. The little flightless pegasus then began twisting her head all about in a frantic search for any possible escape route. Her sights finally settled on what was the nearest building: Ponyville Town Hall.

This was her best option, or at least the best one she could think of right now. There was no way she was making it home in the state she was in. Plus, sometimes the caretaker for Town Hall forgot to lock the door, as she knew from experience. Though, that was still one big gamble to be taking. Too bad she didn’t have any time to consider that right now. She had about twenty feet to cover to reach her closest source of shelter.

At first, she tried to make a break for it at full speed only to be immediately reminded of her leg injury. Wincing, she lifted her right hind leg off the ground and began limping her way to the building. Each step she took took was accompanied by wheezes and sniffles, at this point more symptomatic of her sheer sense of terror and desperation than her exhaustion. Painstakingly, she hobbled forward on three legs. She kept her gaze straight at her destination, not once daring to look back at her assailant.

With gritted teeth, she got to the stairs and immediately began climbing them until she finally stood in front of the entrance to the town hall. She wasted no time and grabbed ahold of the door handle. In a miraculous turn of luck, the doorknob did give way when she turned it. She shoved her way through the twin door entrance before immediately turning around and slamming them shut. Scootalooo balanced on one hind leg while leaning against the doors with both fore legs.

The filly then placed her back against the entrance, sliding down against it into a seating position. She did this partially to block the creature from trying to force its way through, but mostly was just for the sake of getting some rest. She exhaled a humongous sigh of relief. After a solid minute of silently sitting there and letting all her tears and snot loose, the little pegasus quickly flicked her eyes and ears in every direction to get a sense of whether the beast was around.

When she didn’t find any sign the Mothman was trying to break in, Scootaloo took the opportunity to inspect herself for injuries. Her leg still hurt, unsurprisingly. It definitely wasn’t broken, more like it was sprained; she also couldn’t find any injuries anywhere else on her body besides a few little scrapes and bruises. Perhaps, she should probably count herself lucky in that sense. She was also as exhausted as ever, if the way the air felt like it burned when it traveled through her lungs was any indication. Not to mention the streams of sweat she felt pouring down her face.

“Jeez, I’m soaked!”, she muttered as she used the back of her foreleg to wipe her forehead. “You’d think the wind would’ve cooled me off at least a little-“

Scootaloo immediately lost her train of thought when she caught sight of her forearm. Her eyes grew to saucer size, she not only seized talking but also momentarily halted breathing as well. The bright orange fur on her arm was now stained red. After a brief moment of confusion, Scootaloo then realized what was going on. A quick glance up at her own forehead confirmed what she suspected; there was blood trickling from an open wound on her forehead.

Inexplicably, pain began emanating from that spot where there was initially none before. Scootaloo winced and cringed as she felt like her noggin was in the process of splitting open, forcing her to put a hoof to her head. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t feel this until now. Perhaps, she’d built up enough adrenaline numb herself to that pain and must’ve finally started wearing off. That would’ve been a perfectly acceptable explanation if it weren’t for one thing that didn’t add up. Why didn’t the pain in her leg injury become numb too? It was hurting since landing and at no point did it feel like the pain was going away anytime soon.

The filly then began panicking as she realized that she needed to get some bandages on this gash soon. She’d better get looking and see if town hall keeps a first aid kit. After all, it wasn’t like she could trot outside head back to Carousel Boutique right now. That monster could still be waiting for her to come out only to snatch her up right at the exit. With that, she got up on her hooves and start hobbling towards the darkness of town hall’s back room, the moonlight coming through the window providing much needed illumination.

She used the moment to appreciate the nice architecture and the cool decor of tapestries of the town hall’s circular center room. Of course, she normally didn’t think much of the town hall and it’s decorations. But, the same could’ve been said for her house. She hadn’t had time to process what had just happened to her humble abode. Just thinking about it now threatened to make her eyes grow leaky again. Too bad she didn’t have time to mourn right now if she didn’t want to lose too much blood or get an infection; adults told her that was something she should always prevent.

Just as she got to the center of the room, Scootaloo felt the careful balance in her three-legged gait disturbed. The ground below her had trembled briefly before immediately calming down. After catching herself, she began quietly panicking for what might as well have been the thousandth time that evening. Her mind couldn’t help but raise all the worst possible suggestions for what was going on. Not the least of which was that an earthquake was forming, which would swallow up the whole town.

The filly’s ears flicked to a most familiar sound from outside. Looking out a window to her right, she saw a dust cloud in place of where the neighborhood’s mattress store used to be. Just when she was about to vocally question what in Celestia’s name was happening, Scootaloo then saw the building next to it begin crumbling to the ground as well. Her mouth fell agape as she watched the house’s foundations give way, each wall cracking and then folding inward followed by the roof finally falling on top of the rubble. The way it collapsed did not any sort of causal factors. The rumbling underneath her seemed to be a product of the building’s collapse, not the other way around.

Except this time, the rumbling wasn’t calming down. In fact, it only seemed to intensify as Scootaloo witnessed all the buildings surrounding town hall start collapsing in on themselves as well. So violently did the ground shake that Scootaloo was her falling flat on her rear. Just when she was readying to immediately get up, her eyes caught sight of something that made her pause. At the very top of the window above the stage, the creature’s nightmarish face popped into view from the side.

Scootaloo, still seated on the ground, immediately began scooting backwards towards the door. With the ground still shaking from underneath her, she felt like she had enough time trying to regain her balance underneath these conditions. Especially when her most feared monster was still out get her. While she was indeed aware of the window separating her from the Mothman, she also sincerely doubted that it would hold itself together if the best decided to start crashing through it.

*CRASH

Almost to the door, Scootaloo had not taken her eyes off the Mothman since spotting it. That was, until her attention was ripped away by something that had crashed right next to her on the floor. Looking down to her left, she couldn’t tell what she was looking at. She wouldn’t figure out what it was until she looked up to see a big hole above her. As it turned out, Scootaloo had narrowly avoided getting crushed by a big piece of the ceiling.

She would’ve stared in befuddlement at the ceiling chunk even longer if she hadn’t just remembered that the monster was still supposed to stalking from outside the window. She immediately continued her journey, crawling on all her knees until she reached the entrance. Pulling herself up by the door’s handle, she turned around to look at the window one more time… only to find nothing there; without giving off a screech, a flap of its wings or remotely any sound at all, the Mothman had simply vanished.

The rumbling around her had suddenly grew tenfold, forcing Scootaloo to hang tightly onto to the doorknob to keep her from falling again. The filly had to shield her eyes from all the flakes falling down from the ceiling like hail. She felt the pit in her stomach somehow grow even than she thought was possible when she saw the support beams holding up the entire building begin splitting. If that weren’t enough of an indicator for her to get the buck out of there, she also cracks begin to form in the walls and ceiling.

Wasting no more time, she tried opening the door. Only to be baffled to e met with resistance. No matter how hard she tried to force it, the doorknob just wouldn’t turn. Somehow, the door she entered through minutes ago had locked itself on her. This was bad news to get as she noticed that the damage appearing all over the building’s interior wasn’t slowing down. In fact, the top looked it was ready to cave in at any second.

The little pegasus strained against the door. She tried ramming whole her body against the doors, elbow first as hard as she could. With that failing she decided to try pulling instead. She braced herself against the ground and began yanking the door. Allowing herself to forget about the pain on her hind leg, she put as much into there as she did into her arms; her groans of exertion rang in the room equally as loud as the crumbling. Scootaloo finally stopped pulling, her plan for escape devolving into frantically banging on the door with her hooves.

“LET ME OUT! LET ME OOOUUUT!!!”, she screamed to anypony who could be listening.

Unfortunately, even if her cries were to eventually be answered, it would be too late. Above her, Scootaloo heard the bone chilling groan of the ceiling support falling apart under the weight. It was then followed immediately by a snap. When she looked up, the last thing the filly saw was the roof descending down upon her, silencing her screams.

“AAAAAHHH!!!”

Since the lesson started, the entire classroom had been sitting in a dull stupor. So lost in outer space were the students’ minds that not a single word of the teacher’s lecture had been absorbed. They had no reason to absorb any of it when the school day was almost over anyway. The only thing that would snap them out of their trance would be the sound of the bell signaling that it’s time to go home. Or so they thought.

The students were caught completely off guard by the unnerving scream that erupted from the back of class. When they all turned around, they saw that Scootaloo’s body which had been laying face down on the desk for the entire period, had suddenly sprung to life. The filly immediately followed her scream up with a big string of gasping. Her glazed, thousand yard stare soon softened, the visions of the nightmare she had just awoken from beginning to dissipate.

Her eyesight cleared up to reveal the entire class staring back at her with varying flavors of shock and confusion. Scootaloo felt her cheeks heat up as she noticed the apprehensive looks everyone gave her, like she was some sort of unrecognizable crazy mare who just showed up in class today. The way some of them then began whispering to each other with their eyes still trained on her only made it feel even worse for the poor pegasus. Normally, the few looks of sincere and altruistic looks of concern she also saw, especially the ones by her two friends, would have been comforting if it weren’t somehow even more embarrassing.

To her right, Scootaloo heard a light cough coming from right next to her. Turning to the source revealed her math teacher looking down at her, mouth hung open slightly as she carefully considered her next words. The way the obviously concerned teacher had already been standing next to her and, now that Scootaloo noticed, had her hoof placed on the filly’s shoulder indicated that she was the one who awoke the pegasus from her slumber. While cutting your nightmare short was usually something to be thankful for, she couldn’t help but be angry with her given the situation that put her in now.

“Um… Is everything okay, Scootaloo?”, the teacher, Ms. Tally, asked.

The orange pegasus narrowed her eyes in scorn at the concerned adult.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”, she answered.

“You sure you don’t want to leave early and see the guidance counselor?”

“No thanks.”, she responded once again, while burying her face in her folded arms.

The teacher silently stared at her student for a solid few seconds before telling her, “Alright. Just feel free to let me know if you need anything.”

She then trotted back up to her desk and continued explaining the class’ assigned work. Of course, she also had to chastise a few students at first for continuing whisper amongst each other about Scootaloo’s freak out. At first, Scootaloo’s resentment only built up further for the rest of the class period. Why couldn’t Ms. Tally have just spared her the embarrassment and let the bell wake her up eventually, instead? Now she had to feel the scrutinizing of everypony else around her even as she shielded herself from them in her own arms. However, the bigger concerns on her mind soon began to eclipse what had just happened moments ago; so, Scootaloo decided to let go of her grudge for the time being.

More than anypony else, she could barely wait to get out of class. The second she heard the bell, faster than a flash, she gathered up her stuff and dashed out the door, not even bothering to listen to the teacher explain whatever tonight’s homework assignment would be. She had more important things to take care of at the moment. The filly cantered her way through the halls and out the front doors of Ponyville Middle School, her eyes never deviating in the slightest from the path ahead of her. It was by the time she started heading down the path to her aunties’ home that she finally started to hear the clopping of both her friends, who had been following her the entire time.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle weren’t sure what approach to take if they wanted to break the ice. There’s no way they could just say nothing about what just happened back at class. But what were they supposed to say about it? The only thing they both wanted to ask their friend right now was, “How did it feel getting temporarily possessed by a demon back there?”

It went on like that for a little while, neither party saying a word as they trotted their way through town. Two of them weren’t even sure where they were heading; the destination obviously wasn’t Rarity’s boutique. The only sound that could be heard from any of them was the wet squeaks of their boots with each step they took. As it turned out, it would be the one leading the group up front who would break the silence.

“So, are you two also gonna ask me if I’m okay?”, flatly stated Scootaloo, who had gotten tired of waiting for the inevitable conversation to start.

Caught by surprise, Scootaloo’s two friends fumbled on how to respond for a second before Apple Bloom spoke up.

“Actually, we were gonna ask ya what just happened back there…”, she paused mid-sentence to catch up and turn to her pegasus friend who was now on her right. “But ah think we gotta a decent hunch.”

Rather than directly answering, Scootaloo audibly inhaled and exhaled through her nose as if trying to release the residual frustration built up from the memory of her mid-class freak out.

Sweetie Belle appeared to Scootaloo’s right side and asked her, “So, do you want to talk to us about what you saw in your dream?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re still gonna keep asking me about it.”, she curtly replied.

“Cause that’s what friends are for!”, groaned the unicorn who was now quickly getting fed up with her friend’s snippy attitude. “We know you’ve been having nightmares for the past three days now. If nothing else, why don’t you at least tell us about it just to see if it helps you at all?”

Apple Bloom decided to grab Scootaloo by the shoulder. She tried to make eye contact as she told her, “Y’all should know us long enough ta realize ya can share anythin’ with us.”

Scootaloo gently pulled her shoulder out of her friend’s light grip.

“And you should both know me long enough to realize I don’t need help with that.”

She then proudly turned her nose upward, followed by her mouth curling up in the same direction; for the first time that day, she had allowed her face to become a perfect replica mask of self-assurance.

“Your girl isn’t gonna totally fall apart just because of a few little nightmares.”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes at Scootaloo’s manifest bravado. She then thought about what her sister would say if she were here.

“More like Rainbow Dash everyday.”, she’d comment.

For her part, Apple Bloom was looking past Scootaloo’s attempt to brush aside their concerns. She recognized that there was a deeper implication there besides Scootaloo supposedly not scaring the filly to death. The pegasus seemed to be worried about something else entirely, something much more pressing than bad dreams could ever be.

“Alright. If it ain’t the nightmares, then what is botherin’ ya?”, the farm filly asked.

Eyes still having been concentrated strictly forward for the entire conversation, Scootaloo’s response still hadn’t come after several seconds. Whether her friend was either hesitating or just ignoring her, Apple Bloom was losing her patience.

“Scootaloo!”, she cried out.

“Look, just keep following me for a little longer, alright?”, said the pegasus after finally turning to face her friend. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Before they could ask what she meant, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle finally started to recognize what neighborhood they were walking through. It became even more apparent what they were doing when they noticed a particular house they were now familiar. If you could even call it a house. Off in the distance stood Aunt Lofty and Holiday’s temporary rental home.

Author's Note

I felt bad for not having posted in a while. Plus, this chapter was becoming more than twice as long as what it is now when I was writing it. So, I’ve decided to split up the original chapter into two.

Hope you all enjoy this. Remember to point out any major grammatical errors and offer any needed criticism. Expect the next chapter in a matter of days. See you until then!

An Overdue Visit

As they stared at Lofty and Holiday’s little “cottage” (yeah, let’s call it that), Scootaloo’s friends naturally thought back to yesterday morning and their trip down to this rickety place. For Apple Bloom, thinking back to that morning also brought back the dreadful memory of her tripping and opening up that wound in her forehead. Sweetie Belle however, was still thinking about how nopony answered the door when they got to the cottage. Sure, they all assumed that they were just out, but if it they turn out not to be there this time or the next time or the one after that… then what? What are they supposed to make of that; assume the worst and file a missing pony’s report?

Sweetie then realized that there’s no way this same thought hasn’t crossed Scootaloo’s mind at least once since yesterday. No doubt it’s worsened her anxiety regarding her Aunts’ safety. So how much worse would it get for the poor pegasus filly if this happened again? She could only imagine it, but her imagination drew up a few scenarios that were alarming enough on their own. All the more reason why she couldn’t bear to see the look on Scootaloo’s face if they still don’t show up this time.

As they got closer to the cottage, the Crusaders gradually and inexplicably grew more apprehensive. The couldn’t put their hooves on it, but there was something about this unassuming shack that felt different this time. It gave off the type of imposing aura one would expect from Nightmare Moon’s abandoned castle. It seemed that the questions regarding the safety of Scootaloo’s aunts had cast the cottage in a more sinister light. If one wanted to put it more melodramatically, it was as if the place was haunted; not by ghosts, but by the looming uncertainty of whether there were living, breathing mares behind its doors.

Be that as it may, this did not stop Scootaloo from trotting straight to the door and giving it five hard knocks as soon as they reached the front. The trio sat there in anticipation, ears on high alert for any noise inside. However, within seconds they found themselves facing disappointment once again. Not a single sound could be heard from the inside. No shifting, no approaching steps and especially nopony calling out, “Who is it?”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom each took a look at their friend. They could find zero trace of the cocky mask put she put on earlier to reassure them. What they saw instead was all the color draining from their friend’s face in real time. Scootaloo simply did not know what to do with herself in that moment. Just as she was considering breaking the windows so she could at least get a look inside, a noise from emanating from the inside of the cottage pulled her from her thoughts.

From the other side of the door, the trio could hear the clip clop of a pony’s hooves accompanied by the creaking of the floor boards. Judging by the spacing between the sounds of every step taken, this pony was tip-hoofing their to the door as slowly as possible. Of course, none of the fillies were taking notice of that little detail. They were too mentally preoccupied by the question of whether or not the one coming to answer was somepony they knew. And if it wasn’t, should they be worried?

Each girl’s entire body, even their ears, stood perfectly straight up in alert as they watched to doorknob turn. Reflexively, they flinched when the door was pushed slightly open, not far enough to see the pony behind it. Thankfully, they didn’t need to see the pony on the other side to know who they were once she started speaking.

“I-I’m sorry but it’s really not a good time right n-“, stuttered out a voice which was wrapped up in a most unique, yet familiar accent.

“Aunt Holiday!”, Scootaloo excitedly exclaimed before the mare could finish her sentence.

Suddenly, the head of Aunt Holiday popped out from behind the door. Then, she was further surprised when Scootaloo forced the door open further to tackle her aunt into a big, strong bear hug. A smile immediately erupted onto her face upon looking down and seeing her beloved niece.

“Oh Sweetie!”, she said.

Then a voice rang out from the back of the cottage.

“Is that Scootaloo?”, they heard Aunt Lofty cry out.

Holiday turned back to answer, “It sure is! Came out here with her two little mates just to see us!”

Needless to say, Scootaloo was not just incredibly relieved to see her aunts were safe, sound and in one piece; though she absolutely was. The now peppy little pegasus was ecstatic to finally be paying her legal guardians another visit. She had only very briefly visited them twice whilst she was staying with the Apple family and the few days she had gone at Rarity’s without seeing them was beginning to drive her up the wall. Unfortunately, this wonderful feeling came to a halt when she noticed on her Aunt Holiday’s neck, a strange bruise. Just as she was about to ask her about it though, Holiday let out a gasp.

“Apple Bloom!”, she cried out. “Sweetheart! What happened to your little noggin!?”

As she said this, she pointed straight at the bandages wrapped around Apple Bloom’s head.

Almost as soon as she said that, Aunt Lofty had made it to the door.

“What’s wrong with Apple Bloom’s head?”, she asked before also spotting the bandages around the farm filly’s cranium. She then let out her own sharp gasp and said, “Oh my goodness!”

Apple Bloom began rubbing the back of her head out of discomfort. This wasn’t the first time today her head injury earned her the attention of concerned adults. That was essentially what the entire school day was like. That still make didn’t make it any easier to have that sort of attention on her by more than one pony at once.

“O-oh, y’all don’t have ta worry about that.”, she said. “Ah just tripped n’ hit mah head on a rock yesterday. Nothin’ ta worry about!”

It was at this point that Scootaloo noticed that Lofty wasn’t wearing her turtleneck. But even more curious was that she also sported not just one but two strange bruises like Holiday, one also on her neck and the other on her right inner hind leg. It was only by sheer luck that Scootaloo’s even caught that latter one, it was so out of direct sight.

“But is there anything we can get you to help with that?”, Lofty asked while symbolically pointing at her own forehead.

Apple Bloom briefly considered the offer before responding, “Well, if ya really don’t mind, can ah have a glass of water?”

“Of course, sweetheart! Come inside and we’ll get you what ya need.”, she said. She and Lofty began to go back inside before turning back around and adding, “That also means you two as well!”

All three fillies entered the two mares’ humble abode; humble indeed. It was immediately apparent as soon as they walked in that the place was as small as it looked from the outside. Its size was probably somewhere between that of an average hotel room and whatever storage space they had rented to keep their stuff in. There was definitely no kitchen or even a bathroom to speak of. The only things that this place had was a bed barely big enough for two adults to squeeze into, a table with three chairs and three coolers.

“I’ve got to say, it’s a real treat to get a visit from you girls.”, said Lofty.

“It sure is a change of pace!”, chirped a giggling Holiday.

The trio of fillies each took a seat at the table while Lofty got a water bottle out of one of the coolers. Once the bottle was placed in front of her at the table, Apple Bloom began digging through her saddlebag until she found she was looking for, two little white pills. In a quick motion, she then took off the top of the bottle and stuck both pills in her mouth before washing them down.

“That supposed to help you with yer head injury?”, Holiday asked.

“Yeah, sometimes she gets massive migraines.”, Sweetie Belle answered on behalf of Apple Bloom, who was taking even more gulps than necessary.

“That and ah ain’t gotten enough water today. The water fountains weren’t workin’ for some reason.”, Apple Bloom said after unleashing a contented sigh.

During all this conversation, Scootaloo had not taken her eyes off her Aunts’ bruises. Her mind’s gates had broken to make way for a flood of horrifying scenarios for how those bruises got there. Even though they were incredibly minor injuries, they combined with the timid way Holiday initially answered the door made the possibility of the two ladies encountering a hostile presence more real to her. It was then that Lofty began to grow puzzled under the visibly shocked gaze of her niece, prompting her to finally speak up.

“Is there something on your mind, pumpkin?”, she asked.

Scootaloo snapped out of her spell to see Auntie Lofty curiously looking at her, soon joined by Holiday, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom as well.

“Oh!”, the pegasus filly exclaimed. “It’s nothing, it’s just…”

She paused and took a short breath whilst closing her eyes; upon opening them she put on a much more stern, brave face, though her voice utterly failed to hide her dripping unease.

“Did-did something…”, she paused to get control of her stammer. “…happen to you two?”

Both mares stole a glance to each other as if trying to telepathically communicate who was going to speak next.

“Ummm… what do you mean by that, Scootaloo?”, Lofty questioned.

The pegasus filly awkwardly began rubbing the back of her head before answering, “Well, y-you seemed pretty spooked when you answered the door at first.”

Before either aunt could reply with a blithe dismissal, Scootaloo continued, “There’s also those bruises on your necks and legs…”.

Whatever the two mares were preparing to say had seemingly gotten stuck in their throats. The confusion that had taken form upon their faces quickly disappeared after a quick glance down at the marks on their necks gave them a mortifying sense of clarity. Almost instinctively, they used their hooves to cover their not-so-little marks. Unfortunately, they couldn’t simultaneously hide the blush creeping it’s way onto their cheeks.

“O-oh those!”, Holiday stuttered. “That’s nothing, I assure you. These are just… ummm”.

Before Holiday could even give her explanation, Lofty stepped in.

“We just both tripped and fell while we were out yesterday.”, she said.

“Actually, that reminds me.”, Apple Bloom spoke up. “Where were ya two yesterday? We came ta this place last mornin’ and y’all didn’t answer when we knocked.”

Holiday took her hoof off her bruise and used it to cover her mouth while she lightly gasped.

“Oh we’re so sorry!”, she repentantly expressed. “We weren’t expecting any visitors.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Mrs. Holiday.”, assured Sweetie Belle. “All that matters is that you’re here now to tell us where you went yesterday.”

Holiday once again moved her hoof, this time against the tip of her chin. She took a seat on her bed that was mere three feet away from the table before responding.

“Well, I don’t think we went anywhere else, besides the Cafe Hay.”

“Is that where you hurt yourselves?”, Scootaloo asked.

Both aunts paused as if they were carefully thinking of the answer to a million dollar question.

“Yyyes.”, Lofty finally replied, the hesitance in her voice not helping the growing suspicion growing in Scootaloo’s mind.

“So, what happened there? How’d ya get hurt?”, Apple Bloom asked, practically stealing the words out of Scootaloo’s mouth.

“Yeah, what did you trip over?”, asked the pegasus filly, with one eyebrow raising.

“Um… it was… more like we slipped, actually.”, Holiday stammered out her response.

Before her spouse could be further questioned, Lofty decided to corroborate and then elaborate Holiday’s statement.

“Y-yes!”, she also stuttered before fixing her tone. “Floor at the front door was so wet on the way out that we both slipped. Hit my neck on a table and hers crashed on a nearby chair.”

As an expression of their empathy, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle let out an oof and inhaling hiss, respectively; the looks on their faces equally conveyed their disturbance at what they heard. Scootaloo’s expression however, had barely changed. Whilst she did note how Lofty’s tone became more confident the further into the story she got, she still wasn’t entirely convinced yet. Especially since Lofty didn’t explain the bruise on her leg. Still, she supposed that injury could somehow be attributed to her slip, so she didn’t press it further for now.

Her face lighting up now that this line of conversation came to an end, Holiday said, “Anyway, that’s enough about us.”

She then leaned slightly forward in anticipation and asked, “How’s your weekend been? What’ve you girls been up to since we last saw ya?”

The Crusaders didn’t even need to think about their answers for this one.

“Oh, we didn’t get ta do much other than visit Sweet Apple Acres yesterday mornin’.”, said Apple Bloom.

“It really sucks!”, Sweetie Belle groaned. “Can you believe they’re keeping it rainy for the rest of the week? It’s been, like, a few days of being stuck inside and I’m already starting to get stir crazy!”

Holiday sighed.

“I know. Of all the times to lose our house, this had to be the worst.”

“Let’s try not to jinx it. I don’t want to find out that our house’s reconstruction is going to be postponed through winter.”, Lofty discreetly whispered while giving her wife a dead serious look, as if that were an actual possibility.

The new direction this conversation had taken was definitely a step up from where it was before. Certainly felt like the type of conversation one should expect when visiting your aunts after not seeing them for a few days. For Scootaloo however, this veil of normalcy wasn’t enough to hide from her the supposed signs that not all was well with her two guardians.

“Anyway, how was school?”, Lofty suddenly asked.

It was alright.”, Apple Bloom spoke up. “We only got a couple assignments due tomorrow, rest are due Friday.”

“Other than that, ah’ve had ta deal with alota ponies stoppin’ me in the halls ta ask me if ah was okay, what happened n’ all that.”, she further explained with a dismissive hoof wave.

The farm filly then reflected on how much it really got annoying after tenth time it happened.

Thoughtlessly, Sweetie Belle joined in, “Yeah. Not much really happened until the last period when Scootaloo-OOF!”

Her little anecdote was cut short when she felt her friend’s elbow harshly jab into her side.

“What happened in last period?”, Holiday inquired.

“N-nothing!”, Scootaloo was quick to answer. “Nothing much! I just… told a funny joke! Had the whole class laughing, heh heh!”

Whilst Scootaloo tried to put on a convincing smile, Sweetie just menacingly stared a thousand metaphorical needles at the pegasus filly whilst she rubbed her own side.

Lofty raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Really? What was the joke?”

“We’d love to hear it!”, Holiday cheerfully added.

With her first bead of sweat starting to take form atop her head, Scootaloo’s smile weakened and her eyes quickly flicked to the side before she hastily answered.

“Oh well… shoot!”, she said while rubbing the back of her head. “I forgot what it was!”

Whilst Scootaloo shrugged her shoulders, Apple Bloom concernedly looked at her from the side, getting second-hoof embarrassment from the lie she was about to be caught in. Her gaze however, was not the one Scootaloo was concerned with at the moment. The little pegasus squirmed under the sight of the two full grown mares before her; Holiday’s confused expression and Lofty’s scrutinizing stare honestly made for one of the worst audiences she’d ever had. It actually made waiting for their inevitable follow up question feel agonizingly long even though no real time passed.

Holiday then turned to the other two fillies, “Well, can either of you tell the joke to us?”

“Uhhh…”

Before either of them could make one up, Scootaloo quickly began to change the subject.

“Umm, Auntie?”

Not having specified which aunt she was talking to, both of them turned their attention back to her. Scootaloo scooted her chair slightly further inward so that she could place both elbows on the table. As soon as she rested her chin on her hooves, a much more sincere smile took shape on her face. It was still fake, but far more convincing this time around. She could count her blessings that she now remembered how to act natural; or as she would put it, “how to act less like a spazz”.

“Sooo, you two sure nothing else happened while I’ve been away?”, she asked.

That one cocked eyebrow somehow crept even further up Lofty’s forehead, “Like what?”

“Oh, you know. Just anything out of the ordinary…”, the little pegasus elaborated with a benign wave of her hoof.

Thankfully, Holiday seemed to take the bait. The mare began rubbing her chin with her hoof, visibly digging through her memories of the past week. Almost immediately after Scootaloo allowed a sense of relief to wash over her for successfully changing the course of the conversation, the mare came up with an answer.

“Actually, there was something absolutely dreadful that happened on our way back here yesterday…”

“I knew it!”

Everypony in the cottage was startled by the outburst from Scootaloo, who was currently standing on top of her chair and using her hooves to prop herself up on the table. The plan to “act natural” by all measurements had gone completely out the window.

“Who are they and why are you protecting them!?”

“Wha-“

Before Holiday could finish a sentence, Scootaloo projectile vomited a massive stream of questions at her.

“Did somepony break in!? Did you get mugged!? Did they give you those bruises!? Why haven’t you gone to the police!? Did they try to kill you!? Are they still threatening you!? Is that why haven’t said anything about it!?!”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”, a bewildered Holiday helplessly asked from her spot on the bed.

Unfortunately, Scootaloo wasn’t listening.

“Don’t worry Aunt Holiday, I’ll take of whoever hurt you!”

“Scootaloo-“, Lofty tried to speak up.

“Just tell me who it was so I know who I gotta beat up!”, she said as she pounded her hooves together in a display of her mare-chismo.

“Scootaloo!”

Lofty’s shout snapped thankfully snapped the little pegasus snapped out of it.

“But, Auntie-“

Holiday then chimed back in.

“Scootaloo, I didn’t say anything about somepony tryin’ to hurt us!”

Letting that fact sink in, Scootaloo finally took the time to reexamine her surroundings. It was then that she finally realized how everypony was staring at her like she was the raving homeless pony on a train. Holiday looked plain frightened and confused, staring apprehensively at her from her spot on the bed. Lofty’s eyes closely scrutinized her niece, looking for any signs that could tell her what’s going on with her niece without having to pry the information out of the filly herself. Slowly, Scootaloo then turned her eyes towards her friends; they were almost imperfect mirrors of her aunts. Though she looked concerned, Apple Bloom also wore an expression that gave away how hard she was trying to figure out what was wrong with her friend. With both ears clamped to her head, Sweetie had visibly shrank and actually looked like she wanted to disappear under the table.

Realizing the awkward position she was in, Scootaloo sheepishly settled down and sat back in her chair before saying, “Uhh… sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.”, Lofty said with a suspicious tone, which made Scootaloo blush and squirm in place.

Finding it in her heart to try and make everypony else temporarily forget her friend’s second embarrassing outburst of the day, Apple Bloom decided to get the conversation back on track.

Turning to Holiday she asked, “So, what were ya about ta say?”

“Hm? O-oh right!”, Holiday stammered. “Where was I?”

The earth pony mare took a moment to both banish her lingering concerns to the back of her mind and recall what she was going to tell the three fillies before being interrupted.

“Did you three hear about the cart crash from yesterday?”, she finally asked.

“Oh we heard about that!”, Sweetie Belle spoke up. “Poor guy.”

“Poor guy is right. I just read in the papers this morning that he’s not only suffering from a concussion, but a broken leg and few broken ribs.”

Scootaloo grimaced at the description given by Lofty before asking her, “But he’s going to be alright, though?”

The mare gave a reassuring smile and said, “Don’t worry, it said he’ll be out of the hospital by month’s end.”

“Did the papers say who it was?”, inquired Apple Bloom.

An unspoken question lied beneath the one she just asked, along the lines of, “Was it somepony we know?”

Without hesitation, Holiday answered, “It was that bloke who runs the costume shop.”

“What!?!”

The two mares in the room nearly jumped out of their fur, taken aback by the piercing shouts two of the fillies let out.

“Wait, don’t tell me he’s really going to be stuck in the hospital for the next two weeks!?”, Sweetie Belle asked in disbelief.

“Well, yes from the looks of it.”, Holiday said.

“I wouldn’t worry about how his business does.”, Lofty tried to reassure. “I’m sure whoever he has working for him can take over. You’d have to royally bungle things up to not make money as a costume shop during this time of year.”

“But he ain’t got nopony else workin’ at that shop with him!”, Apple Bloom wailed, throwing her arms in the air.

“Which means we’re not going to have any new costumes for Nightmare Night this year!”, cried Sweetie.

“Oh, don’t be so glum. I’m sure you’ve all got your costumes from last year!”, Holiday posited.

“Yeah, ah guess.”, said Apple Bloom before she and Sweetie Belle gave a sigh of resignation.

Lofty placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“Try not to lose any sleep over it, okay?”, she said before yawning. “Celestia knows we could some more sleep ourselves.”

“Y’all haven’t been sleepin’ so good, lately?”

Prompted by Holiday’s “mmhm”, Apple Bloom then asked, “How come?”

“Take a look around you. This place’s walls aren’t exactly thick.”

Accepting Lofty’s invitation, the Crusaders looked at the walls surrounding them. They could tell that it certainly wasn’t highly insulated, definitely not enough to keep the outside environment from creeping in once in a while.

“It gets really drafty in here sometimes.”, Lofty continued. “Not to mention, noisy.”

“Oh the noise!”, Holiday groaned as she joined in on the vent session. “It’s sometimes impossible to sleep with all the noise outside, from all the howling winds to the screeching on Saturday night.”

Scootaloo, who had been trying to see if staying still and silent would enable her to disappear from the room, suddenly halted her mortified sulking.

“Screeching?”, she inquired.

With a roll of her eyes, Lofty began dismissively hoof-waving at the question, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

“Then why don’t it sound like nothin’?”, Apple Bloom asked with a tilt of her head.

“That’s because it isn’t nothing!”, griped a now irritated Holiday, who turned her sharp gaze to her wife. “I tell ya Lof’, I wasn’t just dreaming! I really saw something out the window.”

To announce her incoming interjection, Sweetie Belle raised a hoof before asking, “Sorry, but could you maybe tell us exactly what you’re both talking about? Cause I really don’t follow here.”

“Gladly!”, Holiday declared in a tone that only slightly masked her giddiness. Lofty just gave an agitated sigh, as if she were about to be forced to listen to a story she had somehow already heard too many times. Meanwhile, the trio of Crusaders all leaned forward to listen in as Holiday prepared her account of two nights ago. Looking up slightly in though as she recalled her story mentally, the mare began.

“It was about… two or three in the morning, I believe. I had trouble getting to sleep up until that point.”, she recounted before pausing. “Though somehow, that didn’t stop Lofty from getting her shut eye, lightning and winds be darned.”

Lofty didn’t react to the dig, though it was true. It may have been a challenge at first, but Lofty still managed to sleep like a rock during that raging storm as she always does. Holiday was never sure how her wife always did that.

“Anywho.”, she continued. “It was when the storm had finally calmed down that I finally started to feel myself doze off. But then…”

Holiday leaned forward, making the three fillies instinctively back away slightly.

“That’s when I heard it!”, she whispered. “Some kind of hiss coming from outside!”

“I thought you said it was a screech?”, Lofty questioned, getting an eye roll from her spouse.

“Well, it sounded like just a hiss at first before becoming more like a screech.”, she clarified before turning back to the trio. “Point is that I’ve never heard anything like this before. And when I heard it again a moment later, it was accompanied by rustling foliage and wing beats. So, that’s when I decided to take a look at what was goin’ on outside.”

The Crusaders were all hanging on the mare’s every word. Sweetie Belle leaned forward in anticipation, while Apple Bloom contracted backwards slightly out of apprehension. And the less said about Scootaloo’s reaction, the better.

Holiday continued, “I got out of bed and began to peak over the window’s sill over there.” She pointed behind her at the window positioned high to the left of the bed. “That’s when I saw it!”

“Saw what?”, Apple Bloom cautiously asked.

“Well, I’m not sure what it was, actually.”, Holiday admitted. “It was so dark out and the thing was already flying away when I looked out. So, before I could get a better look, it already zoomed behind a building from the next neighborhood.”

“Could you see what it looked like?”, Sweetie asked.

“I could at least tell that it definitely wasn’t a pegasus pony.”, she answered. “It looked more like a bird, the biggest bird I’ve ever seen, actually. You wouldn’t believe the wingspan on this creature!”

“So, what did ya do after that?”, asked Apple Bloom.

“I kept looking out the window for a few more minutes before. I decided to go back to bed. Nothing else happened for the rest of the night.”, the mare concluded. “I’m planning on telling Snap and Allgood all about it in my next letter to them. They go bananas whenever they hear about new, undiscovered species!”

Lofty rolled her eyes and commented, “I’m sure they’ll love hearing about how you saw an owl.”

Holiday raised an eyebrow, “Hold on, you were insistent that it was just a dream, but now it was an owl?”

Lofty immediately facehooved before muttering, “Holly…”.

It continued on like that, Holiday accusing Lofty of not taking what she says seriously while Lofty just griped about how tired she had grown with this topic. Both of them bickered as if they had forgotten the three fillies in the room, neither side ceding any ground to the other. Eventually, Sweetie Belle took her eyes off the minor argument and looked to her left at her friend, who had gone silent since the story began. She was taken aback somewhat by what she saw. Scootaloo had become several shades paler than what she usually was. Her forehead was now just beginning to gleam with sweat. And her irises had shrunk to pinpricks, while the whites had widened dinner plate size. In other words, the little pegasus looked terrified, as if somepony had just told her that there was a long-range crossbow aimed at her head.

“Are… you okay, Scoots?”, Sweetie asked, getting the attention of everypony in the room.

Scootaloo’s eyes erupted from their haze, dashing back and forth and every which way across the room. Nervously, she looked as everypony’s gaze fell upon her. With how much she was trying to avoid drawing attention to herself again, it seemed almost unfair that she still somehow managed to get an entire room to cast their disturbed sights upon her for the third time that day.

“My goodness, Scootaloo!”, Holiday gasped. “You look as pale as a ghost!”

Lofty moved towards her niece; by the time Scootaloo saw her approaching from her peripheral vision, the mare already reached out and placed a hoof on her forehead.

“Are you feeling sick?”, she asked as she tried gauge the filly’s body temperature.

Scootaloo pushed her aunt’s hoof away and replied with, “I’m fine.”

“Well, you don’t look okay.”, Lofty retorted while Holiday got out of bed to get a closer look at her niece.

The expression on Scootaloo’s face only grew more stern and defiant. She scooted her chair back, dropped to the floor and moved out of her aunts’ reach so that she may feel less cornered.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine!”, she repeated.

Despite her insistence, nopony in the room appeared convinced, not even her friends. It was then that Lofty and Holiday, without moving their heads, turned their concerned gaze towards each other. Once again, it was as if their communication was being done telepathically without uttering a word. After finishing their exchange of eye contact, they both turned their gaze towards Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. It would be Holiday who would open her mouth.

“Um… sorry to ask this of you two, but could you give us a moment of privacy if it’s not too much trouble?”

The two fillies grew surprised by the request, not sure what this would entail. Then, much like Lofty and Holiday, they then exchanged a worried glance before ultimately deciding to get out of their chairs. Internally, they both wanted to plead the two mare to let them stay, but they were more than old enough to understand that it wasn’t their place. As they made their way to the door after giving their temporary goodbyes, they both nervously stole glances back at their friend all the way until they passed through and closed the door. Scootaloo only grew more uneasy at the absence of her friends; she wondered how a regular visit to her aunts could’ve gotten as tense as it felt right now.

After taking her eyes off the door and training them on her niece, Aunty Lofty finally asked, “So, is there anything you need to tell us about?”

Once again feeling uncomfortable under her guardian’s alarming gaze and cold tone, Scootaloo reluctantly answered with a single word.

“No.”

Just when Lofty was about to press further, she was halted by Holiday placing a forearm across her chest. The orange earth mare then leaned down in an attempt to establish eye contact with Scootaloo, despite how much the filly was averting her gaze. Putting on her gentlest gaze and warmest smile, Holiday tried her hoof at getting her niece to open up.

“Please listen, Pumpkin.”, Holiday began, her light and sympathetic voice perfectly coordinated to guilt trip her niece. “It just seems like you’re hiding something from us, something that we should probably know.”

She then surprised Scootaloo by placing her hoof underneath the filly’s chin, lifting her head up to so that they met eye to eye.

“And right now, you need to tell us what’s been going on with you since you’ve been out. Because, and I’m being sincere here…”, the mare said in a tone that somehow struck a balance between matter-of-factness. “The way you’ve been acting since you’ve gotten here is starting to scare us.”

Scootaloo’s combativeness melted in the face of her aunt’s pleading gaze. Though she didn’t mean to, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for making both her caretakers worry so much about her wellbeing. Especially after what they’ve all been through lately. Briefly, she tried to think up some sort of lie that could alleviate their concerns. However, as nothing believable came to her mind, she realized she might need to buy herself time. Perhaps she could try to change the subject?

“Um…”, Scootaloo began, not thinking about what she would say next. “I’m not the one you should be worried about…”

Both mares recoiled slightly at the seemingly random, cryptic sentence.

“What?”, Lofty asked, not sure what else to say.

For Scootaloo, this was a reassuring sign; perhaps she could derail the conversation if she keeps talking for long enough.

“W-well, what I mean is…”, she stammered. “If anything, I should worried about you.”

Lofty then raised an eyebrow, “What for?”

Doing her best to hide how pleased she was at changing the topic, she elaborated.

“Well for starters, you’re stuck in this badly put together ‘cottage’.”, she said with air quotes. “I mean, wouldn’t you rather be staying in an actual house, especially with how bad the weather’s gotten.”

Lofty snorted before muttering, “Tell me about it.”

Holiday, however, would not be so easily sidetracked.

“Well, yes I do wish we had someplace better to stay.”, she conceded. “But what does that have to do with-“

Before she could finish, Scootaloo, eyes wide with realization, interrupted her.

“Actually!”, she quickly exclaimed. “I just realized that there’s another place you could totally be staying at right now!”

“Now, hold on-“, Holiday started again before being interrupted once more.

“Okay, here me out!”, the filly with both forelegs extended out at the mares in front of her. “You know how the Apple family is going to be out of town until this Friday?”

Neither mare said a word, knowing that the filly would continue prattling on regardless.

“Well, in the meantime, why don’t you stay there while they’re gone?”

Each mare’s jaws dropped slightly at this out of nowhere proposition, but Scootaloo didn’t take notice, proceeding to excitedly pace around the room.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that would be-“

“In fact, you can actually have me and the girls stay with you while you’re there. Rarity’s really busy lately, so I’m sure she’d like us out of her hair and to not have to keep checking up on the farm.”, the chattered, continuing her little sales pitch. “So, if you think about it, this would actually be a win for her t-“

“Scootaloo!”

The filly froze mid-tangent at the sound of her Aunt Lofty’s outraged voice, while the cabin shook slightly at the single impact of her hoof stamping on the ground. Scootaloo looked back up at Lofty and felt her ears fold down from the shame induced by the look on her face. Somehow, it was equal parts concerned, befuddled and reproachful. As it turned out, this description would match the tone of her voice as well.

“I don’t what’s gotten into your head to make you think this is okay.”, she said. “But there is no way we are just staying at the Apple family farm for a whole week!”

With a slacked jaw and a blink, Scootaloo then stammered out, “W-why!?”

Holiday took the opportunity to finally get a word in.

“Because the Apple family has already helped us out so much! In case you’ve forgotten, they’ve contributed a quarter of the funds being used to fix our house!”

If the tightening in her chest wasn’t enough for Scootaloo, Lofty decided to pile it on even more by adding, “And that’s on top of letting you stay at their place last week.”

As every creature learns to do, Scootaloo immediately hardened her shame into defensiveness.

Crossing her forelegs, she began her retort by saying, “Why’s that a problem? They’re already helping us, so they can help us just a little more. They’re not exactly the kinds of ponies who mind providing hospitality to others, you know.”

“Except when it’s without their knowledge and their permission!”, Lofty sternly pointed out.

“Honestly, Scootaloo where is this even coming from?”, Holiday questioned. “First you come in here and start interrogatin’ us about what we were doing yesterday. Then you’re weirdly secretive about what happened at school today.”

She then pointed one hoof at the filly before continuing, “And don’t think we forgot about your hysterics right before we talked about the cart crash.”

With each word that left her aunt’s mouth, Scootaloo’s grimace grew harsher and harsher. Her face, head and the rest of her boiled over like a tea kettle, causing a red hue to begin forming on her cheeks. Unlike a whistling teapot, she kept her “spout” tight shut. Though, that might not last long in the face of what she saw as her aunt’s irrationality.

“Now you’re suddenly fixated on trying to get us out of the cottage?”, she said as she paced her way around Scootaloo before settling behind her. “No more changing the subject! You’re telling us what’s going on with you, now!”

The filly just sat there, looking down at the floor. She puffed out her red tinted cheeks in a pout. Her face and mind continued to boil with anger and a bit of anxiety. Her breathing, despite her attempts to steady it, grew more heavy and erratic. After several seconds of this, her aunts only grew more impatient.

“Scootaloo!”, Lofty yelled, trying to get the filly’s attention.

“You know what, fine!”, Scootaloo finally exclaimed, trotting her way to the door before turning back to face both of them. “You can both keep worrying about all of that. Just remember it won’t be my fault if you just so happen to get crushed to death by another tree crashing through your window while I’m gone.”

Turning around, she reached forward and grabbed the doorknob before the voice from behind her halted her in her tracks.

“Is that what this was about?”, Holiday’s voice rang sincerely from across the room.

Slowly, the little pegasus turned around to see her aunts staring back at her with both concern and a tinge of guilt.

Holiday continued, “Have… you been worrying yourself sick about us for the past week?”

“I-“

Feeling her ears flop down on her head, Scootaloo awkwardly began tracing invisible lines across the ground with her hoof.

“M-maybe…”

It was at that moment where all parties involved had their own regretful realizations. For Lofty and Holiday, it was that they somehow didn’t realize something so obvious; from the dramatic episode to the sudden desire to try and get them to stay with her, it all made sense now. Scootaloo, meanwhile, was realizing how much agony she could have spared her and her aunts if she just told them at least some of what was on her mind even if it was only half the truth.

With that, Lofty strode her way towards the filly, Holiday immediately following after. Scootaloo made no resistance as Lofty stretched out her arms, wrapping them gently around her. Though she didn’t immediately reciprocate, she certainly did appreciate the embrace, sinking herself even further into it. Holiday then stood next to them and began soothingly running her hoof through Scootaloo’s mane.

“Oh pumpkin.”, Holiday said.

Lofty finally pulled, hooves still on Scootaloo’s shoulders

“Please listen.”, she urged. “I know that what happened that night must have scared you half to death. Believe me, I get it. But I need to understand…”

Gripping tighter onto the filly’s shoulders, she continued looking into her niece’s eyes with sincerity as she continued, “We are going to be okay. And no matter what, don’t listen to that little voice in the back of your head that tells you otherwise. It’ll only hurt you.”

After Lofty pulled back and stood straight up, Holiday got a good enough look at her niece’s face. While her expression had softened, there was still lingering anxiety and concern painted across her face.

“Scootaloo.”, she said, prompting the filly to look up at her.

“If you’re really so nervous about leaving us here, you can feel free to visit anytime you want.”, she offered. “We can even leave notes on the door whenever we’re out if that makes you feel better!”

The idea was very encouraging for the filly, though still not enough to put a smile on her face as she looked back down and off to the side.

“Are you sure you still want to stay here?”, she timidly asked.

“You don’t need to worry. Biggest threat we face here is boredom.”, Lofty assured.

Holiday chuckled, “Thankfully, we do a very good job of keeping each other, don’t we?”

The saucy tone that line came in forced a poorly concealed blush on Lofty’s cheeks. This combined with the cheeky exchange of glances and giggles the two shared allowed a mortifying realization to dawn on Scootaloo. She stole a glance at both mares’ “bruises” and couldn’t help but see them in an entirely different light, an ickier light to be precise. For a moment, she actually wished she hadn’t been given “the talk” just so that little exchange would’ve gone over her head. Never so quickly had she ever wanted to leave her aunt’s residence till now.

“Weellll, I guess I should be getting out of your hair now.”, she said, not taking her eyes off them as she grabbed and turned the doorknob. “You probably would like the privac-“

“Ack!”

Scootaloo’s bid of farewell was interrupted when she felt something massive crash to the floor next to her, making her jump in place. She immediately looked down to her side to see mess of white and creamy yellow writhing on the floor. Emerging from the pile of limbs and torsos were the heads Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, shaking off the effects of the impact on their craniums. When they finally looked up from their places on the floor, they were greeted with expressions of shock from Lofty and Holiday as well as quiet, simmering anger from their friend.

Suddenly, they sprang up into standing positions, each taking a more casual position as if they could somehow still pretend they hadn’t just been caught. Sweetie Belle began “nonchalantly” whistling, while Apple Bloom anxiously rubbed the back of her neck before she spoke.

“Sooo… uhhh.”, she awkwardly began before forcing a more chipper attitude. “Ah guess we’ll see ya next time!”

With that, she and Sweetie speed-trotted away. This left Scootaloo to unenthusiastically amble in their direction, waving her hoof at the two mares behind her despite being too embarrassed to turn around and face them at the moment. When she got far away enough, the two mares shared a good laugh at what just took place.

The ebony clock mounted on Sweetie Belle’s wall was diligently following its routine. The sounds of its monotonous ticking and swinging pendulum filled the room as effectively as the conversations of the three who had been occupying the place for the past few days. Though the conversation between the various internal parts certainly was nowhere near as dynamic. Still, it’s not as if that mattered to the mare seated on her sister’s bed; it was her eyes being put to work right now, not her ears.

It was only minutes ago when Rarity finally decided to take a break after catching herself almost dozing off for the fourth time that day. It was at that moment she realized that there would be no staying up till three am from now on. It just wasn’t doing her any favors, certainly none for her creative drive. After quickly fixing herself a daffodil sandwich, she figured now was a good time check on Sweetie’s to see if there were any messes she would need to make her and her friends clean up when they get home. Upon entering the room, the first thing she noticed was a certain sitting next to the bed which she had forgotten about, the crystal ball.

Rarity didn’t give too much time of consideration before deciding that she might as well see what Twilight’s little wonder machine can do. After lifting the device in her magic and setting it down on the bed in front of where she sat, she turned it on. What she saw made her do a double take. After a blink, she lifted the pen to start scrolling through the list of titles that had shown up on screen. Quickly scrolling through the list confirmed that these stories, judging by their titles and covers, had a penchant for the grim and grotesque.

“My word…”, the mare practically mouthed, her words were so quiet.

After a little more scrolling, she finally spotted something that made her pause. Her eyes widened slightly in recognition as she spotted a story accompanied by the image of a smiling human woman titled, “Who Killed Cindy James?”. For a solid minute, Rarity started to drive herself nuts trying to recall where she had that name before; who was Cindy James? Thankfully, before her brain could start straining itself too much, it finally came back to her when she went through the memories of yesterday. It was then that she remembered overhearing the strange, alien name being mentioned by Sweetie Belle in relation to a story she and her friends watched. Given how strangely she behaved when asked to describe the story and the obvious disconnect between what she described and the implied story contents in the title, one thing was absolutely clear to the fashionista: her sister will be in a world of trouble once she gets home.

Author's Note

And it’s finally done! Just so you guys know, I really want some well thought out constructive feedback and advice on this chapter. Because their times where I feel like things got borderline mellow dramatic or the conversations didn’t flow so naturally among other possible problems.

And for those asking, yes we’re going back to reactions next chapter. I’m excited too! :pinkiehappy:

The Mad Gasser of Mattoon

Lining the paths that ran through Ponyville were a wide assortment of puddles in varying shapes and sizes. These little pools, their reflective surfaces as stable and still as glass, began to ripple from the violent impact of the descending rain droplets. The tiny “ponds” became more like the turbulent seas described by explorers of old, the “waves” created becoming more than big enough to swallow up any minuscule ship in their path. Their tranquil existence would only be further disrupted as three sets of hooves frantically stampeded right through them. While the splashes cascaded far past the rims of the puddles with every percussive step, the trio kept galloping in a fruitless effort to outrun the storm clouds blacking out Ponyville’s skies.

The little white unicorn of the group growled to herself in impotent frustration, resentful at the seemingly short window of time that school students like her were given by the weather team to go home.

“Now that I think about it, did the rest of us even need to be there for that whole visit?”, she wondered.

There was a point to be had there; they could have at least avoided the worst of this storm if they had just straight headed home instead of stopping to see Scootaloo’s aunts first. Apple Bloom was similarly regretting how long the visit took, but still understood that it was best that they didn’t leave Scootaloo to wander the streets alone what with her state of mind coming in. Actually, Scootaloo was the only filly in their group seemingly unbothered by the rain. Noticeably trailing quite a bit behind the other two, her gallop slowed significantly as if she were dragging a rope tying her back to the place that they all had just left.

Not so coincidentally, this was also a perfect description of her state of mind. That visit to her aunt’s temporary cottage home kept replaying in her mind over and over. She was practically counting all the ways that visit turned out much differently than what she had expected. Not least was the moment Holiday described seeing that… thing flying outside their window. While her vague and broad description of the creature left a lot to be desired, the timing of this alone made the whole situation feel incredibly uncanny.

However, another moment that stuck with Scootaloo was the way the visit ended. Not the moment she accidentally revealed the two eavesdroppers now galloping in front of her or when she regrettably figured out what her two aunts were doing right before she and her friends got there. Rather, it was the moment when she was about to storm out, but not before letting out yet another outburst, one that proved highly revealing not only to her aunts but herself. Thinking about it long enough, she had to admit that her aunties might have a point.

Maybe these feelings of dread and ominous nightmares she’s been experiencing could actually be her mind psyching her up, having been primed to expect disaster after having both her house and sense of security breached by that falling tree. That did intuitively make sense. Yet, every time Scootaloo’s rational side started winning out, the mental image of the monster of her nightmares ominously watching over her sleeping aunts would resurface and bring her back to a state of paranoia. Her thoughts kept following this pattern for the entire way, even as they all saw Carousel Boutique come into view.

“Thank Celestia!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed.

The trio picked up the pace, sprinting with undiluted gusto towards the shelter they’d been seeking. Wiping the rain from her eyes, Scootaloo began speeding up until she was finally running side by side with her two friends rather than lagging behind them. They kept charging forward, still unconcerned with whichever mud puddle they trampled through. They only began slowing down once it was clear that they’d crash muzzle-first into the door if they didn’t. However, as they got closer, they noticed the doorknob began to turn. The three fillies then looked on as the door slowly opened to reveal a white coated, purple maned mare expectantly standing on the other side. All three of them immediately ground their boot-clad hooves into the ground, sliding across the muddy surface until they came to a halt right in front of the entrance, face to face with the mare of the house… err boutique.

At first, the Crusaders’ looked up at Rarity with gratitude plain on their faces. However, whatever appreciation they were about to show got caught in their throats when they noticed sour glare the mare was giving them.

“Where in Equestria have you been?”, she asked coldly.

Sweetie had trouble blurting an answer for a moment. Honestly, she wasn’t expecting to be confronted the literal second she was standing in front of Carousel Boutique. She figured her that her sister would’ve been too busy to even notice them coming through the door.

“W-we’re sorry for bein’ late Miss Rarity.”, Apple Bloom timidly spoke before Sweetie could. “We just made a stop ta see Scootaloo’s aunts is all.”

“I see…”

Rarity’s glare softened into a more neutral, yet stern expression as she turned her gaze towards Scootaloo.

“How are they?”, she asked.

“They’re… doing okay, I guess.”, the little pegasus answered.

The nodded in understanding before stepping aside to clear a path for the little trio of fillies as she held the door open for them.

“Do come inside now.”, she said.

Eager to get out of the rain, the Crusaders happily obliged. As was customary, they each began taking off their muddy boots and leaving them on the doormat before coming in. As they pulled down their hoods and began taking off their raincoats, Rarity announced something else as she trotted past them.

“Also, have a seat on the couch while you wait.”

Sweetie Belle paused, her coat levitating mid-air in front of the hanger. Both she and her friends turned their perplexed little heads towards the mare as she approached the next room’s entrance. She managed to get out one question for her big sister before she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Um… what are we going to be waiting on?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.”, she answered cryptically as she exited the business section of her home.

The vibrant blue impressions on the dish made it a fine decorative piece for the room. Standing on the table, the plate depicted a whimsical scene of an entire kirin village going about its daily routine. The outer rim of the dish was decorated in all sorts of symbols from the ancient kirin language that Sweetie Belle didn’t understand in the slightest, but she guessed was just as pleasant as the village portrayed. Of course, this wasn’t the only knick knack in the living room that had caught Sweetie’s attention.

“Honestly, of all the things you could’ve been looking at…”

Ever since she renovated the boutique to include this living room, Rarity decided to differentiate it from the rest of the place by giving it a wide assortment of exotic decor. For instance, there was the Zebrican tribal mask that she got from Zecora staring down at them from its spot above the door. There were also some items given as parting gifts by some of her favorite Friendship School students who graduated mere months ago. Some gifts like Silverstream’s massive pearl held in an enchanted clam casing clearly had her glamorous tastes in mind. Others, like Yona’s homemade traditional yakistani blanket that hung on the across from Sweetie was more modest; though, as a seamstress, she absolutely had an appreciation for the craftsmareship put into the blanket’s eye catching patterns.

“…you chose some tasteless dreck like that!”

And then there was the item sitting right on top of the coffee table. The only item that Sweetie was going out of her way to avert her gaze from: the crystal ball. In fact, the whole reason she had been eyeing every other item in the room for the express purpose of not having to set her sights on that orb right in front of her. It also helped that it allowed her to avoid looking at her chastising sister. In contrast, Scootaloo was unable to pry her eyes away from the crystal ball since they sat down.

“Though I am disappointed, I must admit that I probably shouldn’t be surprised.”

Despite their actions being antithetical, they belied how they both were dreading future that this fortune teller’s tool seemed to forecast for them. Each moment spent waiting for Rarity to finish changing Apple Bloom’s bandages, the more on edge Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo became. With her scissors, Rarity finally cut the gauze from the rest of the roll before tying it into a little bow on to the side of her head.

Still looking down at the farm filly, the mare lowered her head down to her level and calmly asked, “How do the bandages feel, dear? Are they too tight?”

“N-nah, just fine ma’m. Thanks.”, Apple Bloom answered in a shaky tone that betrayed her expression of gratitude.

“Good, now take a seat.”

Rarity put both the scissors and roll of bandages back in the medical kit as Apple Bloom unenthusiastically made her way around the coffee table to and plop herself right next to Sweetie Belle on the couch, sandwiching the unicorn filly between her and Scootaloo. With closed eyes, the mare audibly inhaling through her nose before contradictorily exhaling a silent sigh. Opening her eyes to see all three fillies nervously looking up at her, the mare stood out of her chair and began speaking with her icy, yet level glare freezing them in place with its scrutiny.

“So”, she began. “At the risk of sounding cliche, tell me what you have to say for yourselves.”

After several seconds of the Crusaders silently exchanging looks to each other, the mare sternly continued, “Oh don’t be shy. I’d simply love to hear your excuse for this one.”

Her eyes were drawn to the orange hoof raised to the air, the filly it was attached to finally began speaking.

“I’d just like to point out that this was totally Sweetie’s idea!”

The unicorn’s spun around to face her accuser, “Shut up, Scoots!”

“Ah can confirm that it really was Sweetie that wanted us ta watch those creepy stories. Now please, just don’t tell mah sister about this!”, Apple Bloom pleaded, only to be taken aback by her friend shoving her face into hers.

Looking the farm filly dead in the eyes, Sweetie growled, “If it weren’t for that head injury, I’d clock you in that stupid tattle tale jaw-AH!”

The little unicorn had her threat cut slightly short when she felt herself yanked off the couch by her ear. As it turned out, Rarity was using magic to drag her sister to the to the chair on the other side, leaving a squeaking trail of “ow’s” behind her. She then expanded her magic to envelop the rest of the filly, lifting her off the ground and roughly plopping her down on the chair. While she was in the middle of rubbing her poor ear with her hoof, Rarity got up in the filly’s wincing face, mirroring Sweetie Belle’s actions from just a second ago.

“I do not want to hear you uttering anything like that again!”, the mare growled. “Am I clear?”

Even with her eyes looking downward and her cheeks puffed out in frustration, Sweetie wisely nodded in response.

Rarity then took another moment for a calming breath in and out. This whole fiasco was bad enough without Sweetie Belle’s brutish behavior. Honestly, she had no idea where her sister learned to act in a way that was so unbecoming for a lady. As much as she’d like to address her behavior, that’ll have to wait for now.

“Now, all of you listen carefully.”, she said as she began circling the room. “I do not care whose idea it originally was to put… this on.”

She gestured to the orb projecting its vertical, virtual bookshelf of “bedtime stories” before continuing.

“The problem is that all three of you went along with it, despite knowing that neither I, nor your legal guardians, would be okay with it!”

All three fillies, even Sweetie Belle, flinched and then immediately hung their heads down, looking like perfect models for a sculptor’s representation of somepony resigning to their fate. They each waited for the grounding that was awaiting them since the beginning.

“However.”

Their heads perked up in surprise, their eyes going back to the mare’s face, now adorned with a softer expression.

“I won’t be officially grounding any of you.”, she said, before brightening the fillies’ days even further by adding, “And I’ll consider not telling your families about this.”

Just as they were all sighing with relief, Rarity enveloped the crystal ball in her magic, levitating the orb off the table and in the air right next to her without even looking at it.

“That being said”, she continued. “I’m afraid I must take this back to Twilight as soon as I can.”

“Wait, what!?”, the mare heard from her right, followed by a pair of groans released in chorus to her left.

“But-“, she heard her sister stammer out, to which she simply raised her hoof to halt her.

“No buts.”, she commanded. “Just head upstairs you three. I’m sure you have plenty assignments that you need to get to. That should keep you busy for a while.”

“But what are we gonna do after we’re done?”, Scootaloo questioned.

“You’ll figure that out on your own, I’m sure.”

“Listen, we’re really, really sorry, okay!, Apple Bloom desperately apologized. “But don’t ya think this is a bit harsh? Leavin’ us without anythin’ ta do upstairs for the whole week?”

“I understand where you’re coming from, darlings.”, Rarity tried to assure. “But this isn’t about punishing you. It’s just that this sort of content is in no way appropriate for any of you.”

As she began to maneuver around the table and head for the door with the orb floating beside her, her little sister’s scowl followed her every movement.

“And I clearly can’t trust any of you to not keep seeking this sort of drivel, so long as you have this in your possession.”

“Did you even watch any of them?”, asked an aggravated Sweetie Belle.

Rather than give a response, Rarity continued on her way. However, by the time she was halfway to the door, the unicorn mare suddenly felt something yanking her tail, preventing her from continuing forward. Turning her head back, she saw her sister standing right behind her, horn channeling her magic. Upon realizing that her sister had been the one grabbing her by the tail, Rarity grew ever more silently furious.

“Young lady…”, she grumbled with narrowing eyes. “I have no idea what has gotten into you lately, but you’re very close to changing my mind on grounding you if you don’t let go now.”

“You didn’t answer my question! Did you watch any of them?”, her sister asked again, insistent on this line of questioning.

With a groan, Rarity answered with, “I don’t need to watch them to able to tell that a story called ‘Who Killed Cindy James?’ is not suitable for little fillies! Now would you-“.

“Okay, okay!”, Sweetie interrupted. “Then please just hear me out for a second!”

Rarity felt her patience being slowly chiseled away in the face of her sibling’s persistence. She seriously considered just shutting the conversation down and sending the girls upstairs right then and there. Sweetie’s friends were surprised that hasn’t even happened yet. But no matter how much they wanted to tell their friend to pipe down before she got all of them in trouble, neither Apple Bloom or Scootaloo allowed themselves to speak up. They continued to anxiously watch on, taken aback by Sweetie’s brazen behavior in spite of the thin ice she was already standing on.

“What if you took a look at one of them…?”, the unicorn filly said to her perplexed sister before adding, “With us, I mean!”

Rarity raised an eyebrow as she spoke, “You’re seriously asking me to sit down and watch one of these with you?”

Upon seeing Sweetie Belle confirm her question with a nod, the mare rolled her eyes before continuing, “Oh, puh-lease! What could you possibly be trying to accomplish by having me sit through one of these?”

“Listen. Let’s say we sit through one story together.”, Sweetie began responding. “This way you can see whether or not they’re really too much for us and we can prove that we’re actually grown up enough to handle this.”

“And what happens when I find that you aren’t?”, Rarity immediately countered.

“Then you can take it back to Twilight and we’ll go upstairs without any more complaints!”

A moment of silence passed over the room as one sister waited on the other’s answer, the two witnesses still remained seated and quiet on the couch. Rarity understood that Sweetie was in no position to start bargaining with her; she knew that such attempts are never supposed to be entertained by the legal guardian. Yet, she was actually seriously considering it. If her sister was being even slightly honest, then that meant there was a chance she and her friends could go up quietly if she went along. Not to mention that, in her eyes, this would be an easy win; like there would ever be an instance where she watched something like these and felt comfortable letting these three fillies watch it regularly.

Besides, despite the due date for her latest commission drawing nearer with each day, she really wasn’t in the mood to return to work just yet. With her pulling all-nighters and taking fewer breaks, she was running the risk of burning herself out creatively. That was the last thing she needed right now when she still had deadlines to meet. This could help her momentarily relieve the frustration which that had built up both over the course of this conversation and the past few days. Yes, she deserved a moment to clear her mind anyway.

All three fillies waiting in anticipation for her answer perked up when Rarity let out a sigh. She trotted her way back to the couch and then sat the orb on the table and herself on the couch.

“Fine, we’ll take a look at one of these ‘bedtime stories’ together.”, she said to the Crusader’s delight. “But I will be the one who picks the story.”

The smile on Sweetie Belle’s face gave way to a wince. She was counting on being able to give her sister a positive impression by picking the least offensive story she could find, like the CrossWade Interlopers or the Fatima tale. But now, a story about anything could conceivably be put on display for Rarity to witness; from grizzly mass murders to aliens that abduct people and skin them alive. This really was a roll of the dice now. However, the filly quickly calmed herself down. It’s not like it would land her in more trouble than she already was in.

As Sweetie strolled up to the couch and took a seat between Rarity and Scootaloo, she said, “That’s okay. But can you please cover your eyes and stick out your hoof?”

“Why?”, Rarity asked.

Just then, Apple Bloom decided to pipe up and answer.

“It’s just our way of pickin’ stories randomly!”, she explained succinctly before elaborating. “Somepony else is supposed ta scroll through stories while your eyes are covered until ya tell them ta stop.”

“And then whatever story your hoof lands on will be the one we watch.”, Scootaloo chimed in.

“Exactly!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “So, let me just take this pen here-“

Sure enough, just when the filly was about to take hold of the pen, a blue aura enveloped it and floated to Rarity’s side.

“Thank you, but… I think I’ll handle both of those myself.”, the mare said in a suspicious tone. “I’ve always been a good multitasker, anyway.”

“Shit!”, Sweetie Belle inwardly cursed. “She saw right through that one immediately!”

With her magic, Rarity pressed the pen against the projected screen before sticking her hoof out and closing her eyes. The three fillies intently looked on with apprehension as she scrolled up the story anthology with the three strong swipes, Sweetie Belle especially. She let out the breath she had been holding when Rarity’s hoof finally landed on a story. Unfortunately for her, the story’s cover art left it unclear what they would all be in for. It wasn’t clear what exactly that hooded figure in the illustration was supposed to be, but it definitely did not anything she’d seen.

Upon opening her eyes, Rarity was also struck by this thing’s otherworldly appearance, so much so that she actually flinched at first. She tried to look at it from every angle possible, but she could only gleam one fact from it. This was indeed… a face. A face of what? Well, she wasn’t sure with its lack of a visible mouth or nose, its bug eyes and what looked like an elephant’s trunk drooping down from its face. She was pretty sure Twilight never described the “humans” as looking like this.

She cleared her throat and took a look at the story’s title.

“The Mad Gasser of Mattoon”, she read aloud.

She and the trio of fillies each grew perplexed at that title.

“What’s a ‘gasser’?”, Scootaloo asked, voicing what everypony was thinking.

“I have no idea, but there’s only one way to find out.”, Rarity answered, before tapping the screen to activate the story.

Sweetie Belle quietly gulped just as the screen displayed a bright full moon shining over a field on an eerie evening. Rarity would have loved to have taken the time to admire how crisp the illustration was if it weren’t for the voice that began speaking almost immediately. She was only slightly surprised when she heard the voice begin speaking about a war (The Second World War, to be precise) which evidently came nowhere near the the forest and fields she was laying eyes on. The narrating voice then described how during this conflict which took place in far-flung lands, back home in a small town in rural “Illinois”, had its own highly sinister and mysterious enemy that it had to do battle against. With that, the narrator one last question before it faded to black and the intro began, “Who was the Mad Gasser of Mattoon?”

While Rarity was preoccupied with looking at the intro so unfamiliar to her yet so familiar to everypony else, Apple Bloom only had one question on her mind.

“Ah wonder what flavor of crazy he’s supposed ta be?”

Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, they said this ‘gasser’ is mad, as in crazy, right?”, the farm filly clarified. “And there’s usually two kinds of crazy ponies, the fun kind and the scary kind. So, which one do ya think he is?”

“I can’t imagine this somehow being about a town being attacked by someone who’s just a really goofy goober like Pinkie Pie.”

“That reminds me.”, Scootaloo chimed in. “I sometimes get the feeling that half the things she does should be taken as red flags, but I can’t figure out why.”

Apple Bloom repetitively tapped her hoof to her chin as something resurfaced in her memories.

“Actually, ah remember hearin’ that Pinkie supposedly helped Sweetie Drops keep Silly Suga out of town. It’s said she did some real scary stuff ta pull that off too.”

“Huh. Makes you wonder how thin the line is between delightfully insane and criminally insane.”, said Sweetie Belle.

It was then that Rarity had just about enough of this conversation.

“Oh hush all of you!”, she lightly chastised. “Pinkie is not a thug. Nor is she insane or even remotely dangerous, she’s just eccentric. You three and I have known her long enough to realize that.”

Despite what she was saying now, she internally felt ashamed of herself. Not only had she speculated in the past that Pinkie suffered from some form of Bipolar Disorder after that mental breakdown she had when the poor mare thought her friends were avoiding her, but she accidentally spread rumors of that thanks to her accursed loose lips. At least she could be glad that she managed to quell that silly rumor before Pinkie caught on. Thank Celestia she never pieced together why everypony looked at and talked to her funny for a couple months.

She managed to snap out of her trip through the guilt-laden streets of memory lane just in time for the intro to finish. The story opened on the image of a human taxi driver’s wife, Aline Kearney, lying beside and lovingly watching over one of her two daughters in bed. Despite being used to having just herself and her children in the house, for whatever reason she was feeling vulnerable enough to have asked her sister to come and stay with her on the night of Friday 1st of September 1944. One of the reasons for Aline’s nagging feelings of apprehension was the considerable amount of money on the premises, as she had cashed a check at the town’s bank earlier that day.

When Sweetie Belle noticed her big sister nodding at that she asked, “Have you also been scared of somepony breaking in and robbing you?”

“Oh, always Sweetie Belle!”, Rarity answered. “Especially with all the valuable materials I work with here. It’s every business owner’s biggest fear.”

“Well, you definitely won’t have to worry about that as long as we’re here!”, Scootaloo proclaimed half-jokingly, to which Rarity chuckled in good nature.

“No need for my little ‘crusader knights’ to risk themselves. I’ve already gotten Twilight to install a few security spells on the premises. Trust me when I say that any strangers trying to break in are in for a nasty surprise.”, she assured.

Sweetie Belle visibly perked up; not because of her sister’s reassuring news, but because of how quickly the mood had already lightened. She took this as a good sign and even dared to hope that it was only a matter of time before her precious storyball was given back to her.

The narrator detailed how the house’s single level structure and its windows which were left open to counter the stifling heat made it an especially easy target for break ins. Aline’s fears were only exacerbated when the morning papers reported an increase of prowler incidents. In addition, the Mattoon Police were currently engaged in the search for a German prisoner of war, who had escaped from an interment camp in nearby “Peoria”. But for now, all she could do was hope that her husband, Bert, came home from work a little earlier.

“A camp? That’s a weird word to use for a prison.”, Sweetie Belle pointed out.

“Do they do archery or haiku writing as part of their activities?”, wondered Scootaloo.

“Ah wonder if that German escaped cause he was a spoil sport like Rumble?”, Apple Bloom questioned.

“Huh. I forgot that they started a camp on their own.”, she realized. “Did I let them know just how proud I was back then?”

As the nervous housewife continued to lay in bed comforting one of her girls, she could have sworn she noticed a slight movement outside the open bedroom window, but when she took a closer look there was nothing to be seen. However, she noticed a few minutes later that a thick, overpowering and “sickly-sweet” odor pervaded the air in the room. After the story transitioned to a close-up, outside perspective of the house, they began telling how Aline realized she had suddenly lost all feeling in her legs which sent her crashing to the floor. Before everypony watching could ask themselves what was going on, three-year-old Dorothy was sobbing from her place on the bed, asking her mother why she also couldn’t move her arms or legs.

Rarity just barely kept herself from audibly gasping, drawing in a sharp breath through her nose. She may not have had the full picture as to what was going on, but not only was it clear the situation wasn’t good, it was looking deadly too. There may have been a lot of grim and grotesque content she was expecting, but none of them could make her heart sink quite like the endangerment of children did. The Crusaders themselves felt their skin crawl at the thought of having no control of their limbs. It didn’t help for Apple Bloom when it reminded her of when Twist told her about the one time she got sleep paralysis; she quickly shook off Twist’s horrific description of her sleep paralysis monster that was emerging in her mind.

Thankfully for the family, their combined screams drew the attention of Aline’s sister, who immediately ran to their neighbors to summon help. With unbelievable timing, Aline’s finally pulled into the driveway. Both he and the ponies watching grew shocked as the story panned to the left, revealing a dark silhouette illuminated in his headlights. Rarity would have wondered how the lanterns on Mr. Kearney’s cart shined as brightly as they did if she weren’t so focused on the figure standing in front of the residence’s open bedroom window.

Scootaloo looked at the tall and slim figure holding its long, unidentified metal instrument as the narrator described how they were apparently wearing some “odd facial apparatus”.

She then finally asked, “What’s that thing he’s holding?”

“Looks like a gas cylinder ta me.”, Apple Bloom answered.

“A what?”

“Ya know, like those helium tanks used ta fill up balloons.”

“Oh.”, the pegasus filly said. “So, that’s why they call him the Mad Gasser?”

“I’m more curious about why this guy is just standing at the window?”, Sweetie pondered. “Is he waiting until the gas does its job so he can get in safely?”

“When ya say ‘does its job’, do ya mean knock ‘em out or…”

As Apple Bloom’s sentence trailed off, Rarity sternly interjected with, “For your sake, it had better be the former.”

Turning their attention back to the story, they listened as Bert Kearney furiously leapt from his vehicle and ran at the masked intruder, who immediately fled into an alleyway nearby. When he returned to his house a few minutes, he was surprised to see police officers and ambulances already on the scene. He, of course, joined them in their efforts to calm down his horribly distressed family.

“Hmm, the authorities got there remarkably fast. Faster than any I’ve ever seen.”, Rarity remarked.

Just when Sweetie Belle was about to speak up, the mare continued, “Twilight wasn’t kidding when she said how efficiently those phones and cars worked.”

The younger sister barely kept herself from letting out a groan of disappointment, slumping down in her spot on the couch. Here she thought she might be able to show how she knew something her big sister didn’t, only for that to be dashed away immediately.

It was only within a few hours that the press would christen the mysterious attacker with its now infamous nickname; the Mad Gasser of Mattoon. After the story transitioned away from the outside of the house, Rarity found herself lost as she was taken on a brief journey through the town’s history, which consisted of only two significant moments. Something about a famous general using the town as a staging post during the country’s civil war and the other time a president once rested at the town; it wasn’t specified what he was the president of, but given his stay was while on route to a political debate, her best guess is that he was the leader of an activist or lobbying organization.

“Wait, ‘American Civil War’? How can a war be civil?”, Scootaloo wondered, now picturing representatives from Equestria and Griffonstone sitting at opposite ends of a table, having a catty and passive aggressive conversation without ever raising their hooves/claws to actually fight it out.

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes, “It’s when ponies-er, citizens of the same country go to war with each other. Like a rebellion, basically.”

“Ooohhh!”, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom exclaimed in stereo.

“Wait, a minute! Don’t that technically mean Equestria got into a civil war immediately after Nightmare Moon was banished?”

Apple Bloom was, of course, referring to the bat pony rebellions of a thousand years past. An event that finally started getting taught in history courses once the “myth” of Nightmare Moon was proven fact upon her prophesied return.

“That is… sort of true, Apple Bloom.”, Rarity half-affirmed. “Though, if I am recalling what Twilight told me correctly, the accuracy of that label is still heavily debated given the fact the bat ponies weren’t technically considered legal citizens at the time.”

Indeed, for pretty much the entirety of Equestrian history the nomadic bat ponies’ positions in society had been… not great to say the least. So, when word got out of Nightmare Moon’s banishment for her promise to bring about eternal night, the nocturnal creatures naturally began seeing her as a figure (a martyr, even) to rally around and the only avenue to a better life. Ironically, allying with her and rebelling in her name only seemed to set back whatever progress they could have made by a whole thousand years. Even after Luna’s reformation, it’s taking a great deal of effort to help shed bat ponies of their reputations as shifty, untrustworthy and unnatural beings.

The video then began describing the recent population changes at the outbreak of World War Two, becoming largely inhabited by agricultural and petrochemical workers. Whilst Scootaloo wondered if that mention of “petrochemicals” was an indicator of this shadowy attacker’s day job, the narrator began describing the actual first time they struck. On the evening of Thursday, August 31 at an address in Grant Avenue, an unknown substance was pumped into the Raef family’s bedroom.

All ponies in the room grimaced at the sickening image of Mrs. Raef waking up to see her husband as a heaving mess, desperately propping himself up on all fours in front of the bed. They weren’t sure if Mrs. Raef was covering her mouth solely as part of her expression of shock as she looked upon her husband uncontrollably vomiting on the floor or if she was fighting to keep herself from spewing chunks as well. Either way, it was unnerving to them how neither the husband nor wife noticed the menacing entity standing right outside their window.

“Why ain’t they showin’ what this gasser look like?”, wondered Apple Bloom as she stared at its entirely silhouetted form.

It would be an hour before the couple was in any condition to contact the police, who ended up finding nothing out of the ordinary at the house when they finally arrived. Since neither party suffered any lasting ill effects, this was simply chalked up to being the result of a “gas leak”. That was, until the following evening when they got reports of yet another incident. Shortly after Bert Kearney had lost sight of the intruder, there was a further incident reported in nearby Prairie Avenue where a Mrs. Rider awoke to hear her crying and vomiting in the next room. She then immediately became overwhelmed by a sweet-smelling mist that had drifted in through her bedroom window.

Scootaloo smirked as she tapped a hoof to her chin, “You know, I feel like this kinda proves the point we were making about Pinkie Pie a little bit ago.”

She didn’t even have to notice the looks everypony else on the couch was giving her to begin elaborating.

“I mean, if Pinkie was some sort of psycho killer, she’d totally make a weapon that smells like cotton candy or something like that, right?”

After a second of actual consideration, Apple Bloom answered back, “Ah guess, but ta be honest ah feel like that’s even more fitting as Twilight’s weapon of choice.”

With wide eyes, Rarity looked on with both shock and disgust as the farm filly also elaborated her point.

“She was a science-y type before she became the Princess, so she could definitely make somethin’ like that. Ah can imagine somepony as smart as her unleashin’ this gas on random ponies just so she can sit back and ‘study’ its effects.”

“Ahem!”

All heads turned up to the adult in the room.

“Should I be concerned or have you somehow always been so casual about such… topics?”, she sternly asked.

Even though the mare’s objections were born out of genuine concern, they were equally as routed in her growing disdain for this cruel and barbaric assailant. And she was none too pleased to hear her friends compared to or even mentioned in the same sentence as this fiend. These feelings were all communicated critical stare Rarity fixed upon Apple Bloom. The little earth pony shifted uncomfortably in her seat, deciding to avert eye contact by turning back to the story in front of her. Although, so focused was she on what Apple Bloom had just said that Rarity failed to notice what was going on behind her. Sweetie Belle took the opportunity to elbow the arm of the pony who started this conversation in the first place, Scootaloo, in a near perfect mirror of what happened back at the cottage before they got here; the pegasus barely stifled a pained “gak!”, rubbing her arm while returning the stink eye Sweetie was now giving her.

Whilst officers were en route to the Riders’ address, they were informed that a third incident of a similar nature had also now been reported.

Rarity snapped her head back towards the projection, reading the text on screen to confirm that she had indeed heard that correctly.

Then a similar call made a few days later by a Mrs. Burrell came in about a nightmarish masked figure trying to clamber in through her bedroom window. However, just as they arrived, the police were suddenly faced with an equally bizarre incident unfolding at a neighboring premises.

“My word…”, Rarity whispered, astonished at how insatiable and audacious this mad gasser was to start attacking two homes on the same night like this.

Her mind now racing with all sorts of actions this unpredictable attacker might do next, Rarity let out a nervous gulp and bit her bottom lip. She listened closely to the narrator relay how the Cordes family, who lived across the road from the Burrell house, was by the family dog barking at the front door. Rarity’s dread became mixed with more curiosity when she saw the man of the household, Carl Cordes, step out onto his front porch to investigate while carrying what must have been one of those “hand canons” (or “boomsticks”) she had heard so much about from Twilight after one of her casual trips through the mirror. The way her friend had described with horrific awe how these firearms blew big holes through their practice targets made her uncomfortable trying to imagine what it could do to actual flesh.

When Carl opened the front door to briefly catch sight of the fleeing intruder, the image of him aiming his gun at the crook stirred up conflicting emotions. While it would be a gruesome sight, a part of Rarity hoped that a shot would be landed on this madman just so that he couldn’t hurt anyone else; perhaps just a non-lethal shot to incapacitate him?

Rarity would ultimately have her line of thought cut short when Beulah Cordes joined her husband outside and noticed something on the ground. She spotted what appeared to be a metallic lipstick holder and small white cloth. At this, everypony in the room raised an eyebrow. It would ultimately be Sweetie Belle who posed the obvious question.

“Wait, so was this ‘gasser’ a girl this whole time?”

The cloth was apparently soaked in some kind of unknown chemical. Beulah immediately suffered a violent reaction upon kneeling down to inspect it, her face visibly swelling up as she dropped to the ground and began violently vomiting up a grotesque mixture of blood and bile. Rarity and the girls all started getting a little green at the gills as their minds were forced to conjure up that image for the second or third time. The repeated descriptions of people suffocating, collapsing, gagging, coughing, heaving and puking their guts out was making this a little harder to watch than expected; it even made it feel unsafe to breathe in the air around them.

“Ah really hope these humans didn’t suffer anythin’ serious afterwards.”, Apple Bloom stated, soon joined by various noises of agreement,

Once an ambulance had arrived to treat the stricken Mrs. Cordes, the attending police officers spread out to conduct an extensive search of the area surrounding the household. Lying in the grass a short distance from the door, a small metallic item was located. It was later identified as a well-worn skeleton key.

“Sounds like something that belongs to a necromancer. Or even the Grim Rider!”, Sweetie Belle said before pausing. “Unless…”

“It’s actually a key stripped down to its bare essentials so that it can fit into almost any lock.”, Scootaloo explained.

“Oh.”, Sweetie said as she began rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Though she was outwardly trying to play it cool, she was not only embarrassed but also a little disappointed that her theory that the mad gasser was secretly death in human form had a hole poked in it before she could even share it.

“Where did y’all even hear about a skeleton key, Scootaloo?”, Apple Bloom questioned.

“Yes, that is peculiar.”, Rarity muttered, her suspicious eyes falling upon the pegasus filly. “Was Dash by any chance the one who taught you what that is? Maybe even gave you… first-hoof experience with it?”

Not lost on Rarity’s obviously accusatory tone, Scootaloo tried to respond in a way that didn’t sound incriminating.

“Uh… i-if this is about that time somepony put haybacon grease in your shampoo, I swear I-I had nothing to do with that!”

Keyword: tried.

“Hmm.”

Other than how guilty she looked, the funniest thing about what Scootaloo said was the fact that she shouldn’t have known about it; not if she was innocent, at least. Acting against her instincts, Rarity hadn’t talked to anypony about that incident and had quietly employed her detective skills for months to pin down which of her two main suspects (Pinkie & Rainbow, of course) was the true culprit. So, needless to say, it was suspicious how much this filly knew about that prank. Before Rarity could further question the culprit’s little accomplice, she was compelled to turn back to face the screen again after what the orb said next.

The following night in Mattoon, a further six attacks were reported, once again mainly focused on residences in the North Street Area.

Rarity could practically feel her jaw hit the floor. Here she was thinking that it was foolhardy to attack two neighboring houses on the same night. Yet, here this crazy person was gassing six homes in the same neighborhood before the sun rose. Were they just getting cockier? No, not just cocky; there was an even greater egotistic driving force for upping the attacks, she just knew it.

Apple Bloom apparently held similar sentiments.

“Six!?”, the farm filly exclaimed. “He-or she is poisonin’ that many houses a night!? And for what!?”

“Yeah…”, said a stunned Sweetie Belle. “You actually make a good point. What even is their motive? They haven’t tried to take anything from their houses. And their gas doesn’t even seem lethal, so what’s all this for?”

“Well they did say it was specifically in one neighborhood.”, Scootaloo began. “Maybe they have a grudge against all of their neighbors?”

Speaking of grudges, Scootaloo was also silently relieved that Rarity had already forgotten the newfound one she had against her. Hopefully, she’ll have forgotten it long enough for Scootaloo to warn Rainbow that she was onto them.

At approximately one in the morning, Robert Daniels was awoken by the sounds of metallic scraping coming from somewhere nearby outside his address. When he looked outside his bedroom window, he saw a tall slender figure holding an unidentified metal implement, leaning in through the window of the house next door. Apparently, in the time it took Daniels to make his way outside, the stranger had already vanished. While this phantasmic act by the mad gasser gave all the ponies watching an involuntary shiver, it would be nothing to what Robert caught sight of in the open window. He cried out in horror at the sight of his neighbor, sixty-year-old Fred Gable, lying on the floor of his kitchen coughing and choking uncontrollably. Rarity feared that they may have had the first death in the story, doubting that Gable’s poor old heart could take it. She’d find herself relieved when it was confirmed that Fred not only survived, but apparently had no memory of the incident when he woke up.

“Oh…”, Rarity said in a relieved tone that soon inexplicably grew sour. “Lucky him.”

Sweetie obliviously nodded in agreement, “Thank Celestia he wasn’t hurt!”

While Rarity was happy for Mr. Gable’s safety, that wasn’t what she meant. She’s had her fair share of experiences so infuriating that she was wishing she could forget it entirely by the end, starting with that dreadful first night at the gala. A part of her felt ashamed for how much that memory still vexed her from time to time.

The next evening, the home of the local grade school’s principle, Miss Francine Smith, was attacked as well. She and her sister Maxine had reported hearing a strange buzzing noise on each occasion before a thin blue vapor suddenly wafted into the room.

“I wonder what that buzzing noise actually was? Was the gas cylinder making that sound? No gas cylinder that I’ve seen at parties has ever done that. Now that I think about it, life would probably be so much easier if everything that was about to hurt you made a buzzing sound as a warning…”

While Sweetie Belle’s mind continued to wander aimlessly, the other three started feeling jitterbugs crawling all over them as they listened to how the stranger ominously stared at the paralyzed pair of sisters for quite a while before finally turning away, disappearing into the night.

Scootaloo shivered, “I’m already having enough nightmares about Mothman leering at me through windows. Do I really need more of this?”

By the time Sweetie stopped spacing out, she was just in time to hear how the town of Mattoon had entered a state of hysteria. With police unable to locate the offender, groups of armed citizens began forming to patrol the streets at night.

“Well, that would make me feel a little bit safer if mah town was under attack.”, Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie’s mouth curled slightly downward in uncertainty.

“I don’t know if that’s actually safer. It might actually be less safe.”

“What do you mean?”, Scootaloo incredulously puzzled at her friend’s words. “It’s not like you’d-“

“Shhh!”

Any further words from all three fillies stopped dead in their tracks as their heads turned in the direction their ears were pointing them. They saw the source of the noise, Rarity, leaning forward slightly, engrossed by the video. Her eyes, not even sparing a glance down at the Crusaders, locked onto the image in front of her of a human child lying limp and unconscious on their bedroom floor. Her ears also stood at attention, listening closely as the narrator told how these citizens’ night patrols proved fruitless as the perpetrator carried out twenty five more attacks over a two week period, before it then began talking about the final attack that occurred on September 13th just as FBI agents from the nearby Springfield Office finally arrived in town.

The pegasus turned her sights back to her friend and leaned in closer.

“It’s not like you’d have any reason to be more afraid of them than whatever is attacking the town?”, she whispered.

“It just seems like one step below an angry mob.”, Sweetie Belle explained quietly. “Actually, it could be just as dangerous as one.”

“How?”, whispered Apple Bloom who stuck her head out from her place on Rarity’s left.

“Well, think about it!”, Sweetie began. “How on edge would you be if there was somepony in town attacking ponies in their homes at night and you don’t know who it is? Would you handle it calmly? Mistaken identity and scapegoating is probably bound to happen that way.”

Just when both fillies were readying a retort, they found themselves interrupted by Rarity again; this time by wrapping her hoof around her sister and pulling the filly right up to her side.

For the entirety of the girls’ conversation, Rarity had instead been focusing on the tale reported by the distressed housewife, Burtha Berch. She had described how she went to investigate some strange noises coming from her son’s bedroom, only to discover him lying unconscious on the floor. Equally shocking was the mysterious figure clambering its way out the window. It possessed what was considered a feminine appearance according to the narration, but was clad entirely in male clothing with the exception of high-heeled shoes. However, what most caught the mare’s attention was the face-covering the stranger had on; a mask resembling what Rarity could only as some of anteater or elephant wearing goggles. With her heartbeat taking a major uptick, the unicorn could only imagine worse the terror must have been for Burtha.

Rarity turned her face down to the sister she held close to her, who looked back up at her with a face that was equal parts puzzled and uncomfortable.

“Sweetie, promise me that if you see a prowler out the window or a stranger in your house at night, you’ll immediately come running to mother and father.”, Rarity said before adding, “And if you can’t do that, don’t hesitate to cry for help.”

After she saw Sweetie Belle give a hesitant nod and felt her hoof rubbing her back comfortingly, Rarity hastily added, “Oh! And do remind me to show you the best hiding places and escape routes sometime.”

The whole room went back to quietly watching the story, albeit the awkward miasma still hung over them. They listened as the narrator discussed how the most troubling aspect of Mrs. Burch’s description is that it seemed to indicate that the attacks in Illinois were far from the first time the Mad Gasser had done this.

“Wait, so there have been other places where people have gotten gassed in their own homes?”, Apple Bloom questioned with astonishment clear in her voice.

Rarity couldn’t help but concur.

“Hmm. Twilight once told me that she was drafting plans for everypony in Equestria to flee through the mirror into the human world if the worst case scenario ever comes to pass. Though, I must admit that seeing this makes me wonder if we should just take our chances living under the sea like the hippogriffs did.”

Their line of conversation would halt when they saw the next image on screen of the Mattoon gasser up-close and staring directly in the viewer’s direction. They were finally getting a detailed look at this assailant since the start of the video, and served to make the gasser appear even more foreign in their eyes. There were certain details that were made clear to them now, like how its “trunk” was obviously some sort of breathing tube, as indicated by the occasional bursts of steam it would emit with each breath the stranger took.

Yet, the combination of mask and hood made it practically impossible to get any indicators on whether this was a guy or girl they were looking at. The way the mask’s eye goggles brightly reflected the moonlight also killed any remaining means of gauging the type of person underneath; for all they knew, staring back at them was either a face of cold detachment or predatory malevolence. While Rarity grew unpleasantly tense at the sight of this otherworldly being, Sweetie Belle was struck with a different kind of awe.

“That looks so cool!”

Rarity was snapped out of her horror when she heard her sister’s voice.

Did she just hear that right?

“I know right? Put that face on the cover of an alien invasion comic and I’d buy it in a heartbeat!”, Scootaloo chirped.

“Kinda sucks that this fella is wearin’ it though. His costume looks way cooler than it has any right ta be.”, concluded Apple Bloom.

Hearing these comments only served to slightly befuddle Rarity. Given her life’s passion, she had always automatically associated whatever was “cool” with what was fashionable. So, her mind couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if she was going to get commissions from children to make outfits like… this. The fashionista gave an involuntary shudder when her mind suddenly conjured up the image of a foal wearing that mask calling her “mommy”.

One of the most speculated about aspects of the Mattoon case was the apparent lack of motive for the offender’s actions. The gas that was used never affected a victim for longer than a two-hour period and left no noticeable side effects. The attacker also seemingly never made any effort to harm the victims after they had been rendered immobile. While Rarity believed this point did have merit, she wasn’t quite as ready to rule out violent intent as the narrator was; in all honesty, she would argue that using gas was an act of violence in itself. Finally, there was the fact that nothing was ever stolen and the Mad Gasser rarely ever tried to enter the premises.

“Yeah, that’s the problem!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “Without anything concrete, this gasser could be anyone.”

“Well, anyone in town who’s a grown girl, that is.”

The little unicorn poked her head passed Rarity to get a look at her earth pony friend.

“What do you mean?”, she questioned.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Apple Bloom began explaining, “Don’t ya remember? They said earlier how this gasser was wearin’ high heels. That clearly narrows the suspects down ta half the population.”

She suddenly heard Scootaloo’s voice to the right mutter, “I dunno…”.

“What do ya mean, ya don’t know?”, Apple Bloom said, looking over Rarity to direct a combination of raised eyebrow and head tilt at her friend.

While this conversation took place, the narrator began describing a somewhat similar yet very different series of attacks in 1935 down in Lake County, Florida; the unknown attacker in that case apparently used flit-gun filled gun medical anesthesia as part of their attempted burglaries.

“Well, they could just be a guy whose wearing the high heels to throw people off.”, suggested the pegasus filly, to which Apple Bloom gave a dismissive eye roll. “Well, think about it! Why would anyone, lady or not, wear high heels to a crime like this? It’s gotta be a pain trying to run away in those!”

Just when the farm filly was readying another retort, Rarity jumped into the conversation.

“I say, Scootaloo, that’s actually a very astute observation! You actually have this one-time detective impressed!”

Scootaloo couldn’t help but smile humbly at the validation.

Mouth hanging open slightly, Apple Bloom was about to voice her objections at the adult in the room taking her friend’s side, Rarity then suddenly turned to her and said, “Though, Apple Bloom, I am surprised that you of all ponies would be arguing against this point.”

When Apple Bloom gave her a questioning look, Rarity continued, “I mean, you certainly have become a little familiar with seeing a stallion dressed like a mare.”

With widening eyes that looked off to the side, Apple Bloom said, “Ah’m not sure what ya mean there.”

Giving a knowing stare, the mare shook her head as she smiled back, “Dear, I know all about your time with ‘Orchard Blossom’ at the last Sisterhooves Social.”

Catching in Rarity’s tone the air quotes put around her “cousin’s” name, Apple Bloom winced back slightly.

“Oh… ya have?”

Despite everypony’s eyes focusing on their discussion, each of them still had one ear turned to the orb, listening as it began talking about another bizarre series of events in 1933 rural Virginia resembling the attacks in Mattoon.

“Why, of course darling! Everypony in town knows about that! Besides, do you think I’d never find out what one of my fellow pony tones was up to?”

It was when she noticed the farm filly’s eyes looking bashfully to the floor that the mare chose to place a hoof on the little one’s shoulder.

“Now, now. There’s no need to feel embarrassed for him! If anything, I’d love to see more stallions unafraid to show off how well they pull off a dress like that!”

“That is true. Your brother really did look surprisingly comfortable dressed as a mare.”, Sweetie pointed out. “Where could he have gotten the practice for that?”

Her older sister’s suddenly scrunched up, “Oh! That’s… entirely my doing! Yes!”

The mare’s hasty and slightly frantic tone earned her some strange looks from the girls.

“Branching out my business nationwide means I’m going to sell to costumers of all shapes and sizes, you know.”, she clarified. “But I didn’t have any mares in town of that size and well… he was willing to help!”

Of course, this was a blatant lie, but she had to keep her promise to Big Mac to never let word get out to anypony about his past “exploits” with Toe Tapper.

All eyes turned back to the crystal ball as it told of how thirteen different households in total reported being attacked by mysterious assailants in possession of gas producing equipment, the bulk of which occurred in Botetort County. Unlike the Mattoon case, the intruders were usually chased away from the household before their gas could take effect. Most intriguing was the police reports stating there were at least two to four perpetrators involved.

“Huh.”, Scootaloo blankly stated. “You’d think the more help you have, the easier it’d be to pull off.”

Rarity wanted to respond to what the little pegasus said, but wasn’t sure whether to agree with her or not. Yes, she’s helped save the world numerous times through teamwork and the “power of friendship. But she’s had lots of experiences that make her want to say that the more grand scale and the more parties are involved, the more ways a plan can go wrong. Actually, she felt as though that was secondary to the question of how several people agreed to go along with this. If there really wasn’t any financial incentive just like in the Mattoon attacks, then the mastermind behind this had to have somehow known where to look for like-minded individuals who also want to gas people for the sake of it. Was there some sort of secret forum or convention where all the agents of discord gathered together and plotted their schemes? It was at the moment Rarity hoped that Discord really couldn’t read minds. She’d hate to give him the idea to start his own convention after he peeking inside her head.

The narrator began pointing out the clear differences between the events in Virginia and Illinois. Examples included the offenders in Virginia fleeing the scene in a motor vehicle and occasionally trying to barricade their victims in their homes. Though it must be noted how the reports of mask-wearing females amongst the attackers and high-heeled footprints recovered from the scene drew a striking similarity to the Mattoon attacks, much to Apple Bloom’s satisfaction.

Still, it remained to be seen whether these two sets of incidents can ever be successfully linked. It is entirely possible that the gas attacks in Virginia could have been the first experimental efforts of one or more serial offenders, some of whom would eventually find their way to Illinois over a decade later. It was also possible that someone Mattoon researched the incidents in Botetourt County, before carrying out their own copycat attacks. While Apple Bloom much preferred the former, an author named Scott Maruna published a book on the mad gasser attacks which supported the latter hypothesis. After extensive research, Maruna posited that an antisocial local misfit named Farley Llewellyn was the true culprit. His reasoning was that Llewellyn supposedly had an unhealthy fascination with harmful and noxious substances.

Rarity grimaced at that.

“Ugh… I can clearly imagine the types of jokes Pinkie and Rainbow would be making if they were her right now.”

The mare began shaking the memory out of her consciousness, almost missing the narrator further explain how many of the targeted households contained either Farley’s teachers or classmates. Despite this, the Mattoon Police Department came to a vastly different conclusion for what was happening in their town. In the aftermath of the attacks, Chief of Police C.E. Cole released a statement declaring the incidents to be the result of an accidental chemical leakage from the nearby Atlas-Imperial manufacturing plant.

Mouth and eyes wide open in a perfect representation of how baffled she was, Rarity weakly said, “Um.. pardon?”

Of course, the company was quick to dismiss this, pointing out that no employees had ever reported suffering any similar harmful effects from exposure. Chief Cole then went so far as to claim the mad gasser had never actually existed and that the town had actually experienced a case of mass hysteria.

Pushing through her own state of stunned silence, Apple Bloom spoke up.

“How the hay is that the explanation!?”

“You’ve got to love those local police...”, Sweetie Belle dryly commented.

Regardless of the audience’s disbelief, the narrator still tried to substantiate the Cole’s claim. He pointed out how there have been tons of famous cases where communities suffered from strange symptoms and unknown afflictions that were traced back to one key event. Recent examples included several employees at the US embassy in Havana claiming to be victims of some kind of “sonic attacks” and viral outbreaks of inexplicable fainting at a girl’s school in Malaysia.

“Ah thought Miss Rarity would be the only one dramatic enough ta imagine her own symptoms into existence.”, Apple Bloom thought to herself.

“Didn’t they also say last time that the ghost of the Virgin Mary was some sort of ‘mass hysteria’?”, Scootaloo asked. “I remember it being almost as dumb that time too.”

Rarity was both lost as to what Scootaloo was talking about and cringing somewhat at how casually the word “virgin” left her lips. Had she really once again failed to notice how much her sister and her friends have matured?

“I want to believe it too, but… now that I think about what Lucia’s mom had to say about her… maybe I shouldn’t.”, Sweetie said with a sigh.

Much to her surprise, Rarity was actually quickly getting sick of being left out of the loop here.

“Should I ask her what that was all about?”, she wondered.

Meanwhile, Cole explained that he believed the idea of phantom gas attacks within the community had been planted by the initial incident reported by Aline Kearney, and in the aftermath of that report, suddenly every odd symptom or illness in the town was attributed to this so-called “mad gasser”. Hence, they fell into a state of paranoia where they mistook any shadow or movement they saw for a sinister attacker.

“Oh, that is absolute rubbish!”, Rarity grouched.

“How do ya ignore both the footprints and that cloth that got Mrs. Cordes sick!?”, exclaimed Apple Bloom.

With a roll of her eyes, Scootaloo joined in the mockery, “These cops couldn’t find water in the middle of a lake if you asked them to.”

The narrator then insisted on the importance of considering America’s social landscape at the time of the Mattoon gassings. After three years of being at war and being told by the government and media to be on alert for enemy agents and invaders, the population was primed to fear and report any remotely suspicious activity.

Scootaloo couldn’t hold the back the frown creeping onto her face as she recalled for the second day in a row Ocellus’ personal account of her hive’s former obsession with security. Three whole hours of interrogation by Pharynx the bad cop and Thorax the good cop that was too meek to step in. And for what? For staying overnight at a Minotaur family’s home whose village she had been assigned to gather intel on for a day instead of returning to the hive when she was supposed to. Even though she explained several times that there was a storm that made it impossible for her to head back and insisting on doing it anyway might’ve blown her cover.

As the story continued, the narrator considered the possibility that the gasser was indeed some sort of Japanese agent or sympathizer.

“I thought they mentioned at the beginning there was a German POW on the loose, not Japanese...?”, Sweetie Belle puzzled. “Though, I guess they did once mention that they were partners with Germany.”

In 1942, a Japanese biplane successfully bombed targets in the state of Oregon. And at the time of the attacks in Mattoon, the Japanese army were in the process of ten thousand firebomb balloons in the hope of causing damage to the US mainland. Naturally, Rarity was shocked and repulsed that someone would utilize balloons in such a capacity, wondering if this type of lunacy characterized the rest of the Second World War as well. While the Crusaders, considering what they learned after watching “The New York Nuke”, were simply baffled that this was ever attempted.

“That didn’t actually work, did it?”, Scootaloo quietly asked herself.

“If Germany apparently couldn’t make it through with their fancy planes, how in Equestria did the Japanese think they could pull this off with balloons?”, Apple Bloom pondered with her head tilted to the side.

Sweetie Belle merely sat there with both eyes narrowed and one eyebrow raised in judgement.

“If this is the best they had to offer, then I think we know who was the backbone in their partnership with Germany.”

An even more unusual suggestion that is favored by conspiracy theorists was that the US government secretly perpetrated these attacks against their own people as a means of testing a new experimental chemical weapon.

Rarity gawked at this.

“What sort of scoundrels are ruling this country!?”, she practically bellowed before giving a contemptuous scoff. “Perhaps I was too quick to judge earlier. I should’ve been routing for the enemies of this ‘U.S.’ to come in and liberate its people.”

An awkward inhaling hiss drew Rarity’s attention down to her sister fixing with a knowing yet uncomfortable gaze, something that was shared by her friends.

“Yeah… about that…”, Sweetie Belle began.

“…what’s wrong?”, the mare questioned.

As Sweetie still kept quiet, Apple Bloom picked the conversation back up.

“Not ta get too into it, let’s just say those other countries America was fightin’ were actually doin’ worse stuff than this.”, she answered. “At least… one of them was.”

“…oh my.”

Suddenly, Rarity remembered Twilight telling her all about how Sunset and their human counterparts are supposed to have begun growing into their roles as that world’s version of the Elements. By all appearances, they were probably going to have a tough journey ahead of them if they were to be tasked with bringing harmony to this world of “Earth”.

If there was one consolation from this, it was the supposed lack of any evidence of the U.S. government ever did such a thing. But if it wasn’t that, then what did happen during those two terrifying weeks in Mattoon? Japanese wonder weapons? Or even alien visitors? The physical evidence at the crime scenes and the victim’s very real sickness seemed to rule out Cole’s theory of mass psychosis for sure.

That last part wasn’t the only thing the narrator and Rarity agreed on. Whoever this mysterious attacker was, there was no doubt that they sought to cause as much chaos and confusion as possible. Much like how she had always been attracted to her career path’s promise of fame and stardom, Rarity could see in this mad gasser something similar. A desire for a legacy, one born from infamy. She could tell that this clearly unwell person derived so much joy from the fact that he’d be like a ghost haunting the minds of several generations of Mattoon’s residents; probably felt powerful for it.

She wondered how much love and attention was this wretch denied in order to make them who they are. Then again, it only took her childhood friend moving away to turn Starlight into a cult leader who once risked the entire multiverse, so who’s to say this person didn’t need any help becoming a monster? And if that were true, would there be any saving them?

Rarity halted the line of thought there; she shouldn’t start thinking like that.

Thankfully, major scientific and technological advancements have made baffling incidents such as this increasingly rare. Though that didn’t keep the narrator from stressing to the audience that they should never think twice about keeping their windows closed.

“Oh trust me, I wouldn’t dream of it at this point.”, Scootaloo thought to herself grimly.

Still, the pegasus filly had to admit that she did feel satisfied by what turned out to be another interesting, spooky story. This same feeling made brought a smile to Sweetie’s face, knowing that her friends had as good of a time watching it as she did. However, that smile unfortunately fizzled out as she remembered that it wasn’t her friends’ opinions that mattered right now. She tentatively looked upward to see her sister’s reaction, but the look on her face proved near impossible to read. Weirdly, Sweetie was able to catch hints of pity and disgust on Rarity’s face, the cause of which she could only guess; her expression was otherwise a cocktail of varying different feelings, whether they were good or bad ones, she couldn’t tell.

“So…”, she awkwardly began. “What did you think?”

Rarity’s attention was pulled down to her sister who sat there looking up at her, anticipation clear on her face.

After a moment of consideration, Rarity finally answered, “Well, I can say that watching this came with a lot of surprises.”

“Good surprises?”, Apple Bloom chirped.

“Hmmm, a few.”, she replied. “I certainly wasn’t expecting it to be so, well, high quality.”

All three fillies visibly perked up at that.

“Whoever the illustrator is, they really need to branch out to even bigger things, they’re drawing is too fabulously detailed to only be seen here.”, she elaborated with a twinkle in her eye. “Oh how well they can draw a moonlit field!”

Her smile faltered right then and there, “Though I do wish they would add some color to really makes these pictures pop. I also have some complaints about the interior designs…”

Sweetie braced herself for a boring, long-winded list

“But, honestly that wasn’t the biggest surprise.”, she stated, halting her tangent before it could actually begin. “It was actually you girls who took by surprise more than anything.”

“Wait, we surprised you?”, Sweetie then asked.

“Absolutely! I’m truly impressed by the level of maturity you demonstrated.”, Rarity said with a warm smile in the face of her sister’s surprise. “Here you were talking about what the merits and dangers of citizen patrols.”

Sweetie Belle gave a solemn nod as she imagined Ponyville going through something like this; she privately wondered and feared what all her neighbors might be capable of if they got consumed by paranoia.

“Meanwhile, my mind is preoccupied with the fact that all the houses in this story are so minimalist and samey.”, her big sister continued. “Or sitting here dumbstruck looking at that mask the gasser was wearing.”

“Yeah, it looked wicked!”, said Scootaloo.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it. I must admit that the way you described it earlier as something belonging on a sci-fi cover is very apt. I’ve never seen something so… otherworldly.”

“Yeah, it sure is.”, Sweetie said before readying herself to ask her big sister the million-bit question. “So Rarity, are you finally okay with us watch-“.

She was unable to finish her question upon looking up at Rarity. The mare was staring straight forward, as if she could now see something the other three couldn’t; a vision that was gradually materializing before her eyes. Whatever it was, it soon brought her out of her slack-jawed stupor, replaced by a wide smile. None of the Crusaders got a chance to ask Rarity what was with her before they all saw her suddenly spring off the couch and snatch the crystal ball off the table.

“Ideaaaaa!!!”, she said as she bursted through the door out of the room.

Eventually getting up to follow her, the trio of fillies walked into the room. Before their eyes was a white and purple blur zipping back and forth across the room, chattering to itself all the while as it trampled through every crumpled paper wad in its path that were accumulated over the past few fruitless days of designing. Following the speeding Rarity everywhere she went were a various assortment of tools, kits and materials held in her magic. In fact, yet another box full of desired items was also being floated off the shelf and, unknowingly, right in the direction of the three fillies, only to of whom were able to notice it just in time to duck underneath.

“Ow!”, Sweetie Belle yelped upon feeling her head knocked by box, which wasn’t even remotely slowed down by the collision.

Sweetie Belle turned to scowl at both of her friends for neglecting to give her a “heads up”, to which they could only wordlessly respond with sheepish shrugs.

Rarity, finally having halted her pacing, was too wrapped up in the sketches she was drawing in her notepad to notice what had just happened.

“Oooh, what how can I add just the right amount of flair?”, she mumbled to herself as she scribbled on the paper. “What to do, what to do? Hmmm, perhaps adding some brass buttons wouldn’t hurt? Now, where did I put them last?”

“Hey, Rarity!”

The mare yelped and nearly dropped all of the she was carrying in her surprise after two green eyes suddenly popped into her line of sight; thankfully her concentration was enough that she still held both items in her magic. Backing up, Rarity finally got a look at her little standing right in front of her and greeting her with an expectant look.

“Uh… yes, Sweetie?”, she finally said back.

“Well, I was just thinking that since you liked that story so much, you could… I don’t know…”, she began reaching for the crystal ball held in Rarity’s magic. “Maybe let us have this back.”

Rarity pulled the orb away from her sister’s reach and said, “I-I still need some time to think about that. Why don’t you three go upstairs until then. I’m sure you have plenty of work that you must get started on by now.”

She set her notepad on a nearby table and began heading for some shelves on the other side of the room.

“Now where did I put those buttons?”

Suddenly, she was halted by something latching onto her leg and anchoring her into place. Getting over he initial shock, Rarity grew livid when she looked behind her and saw her little sister clinging to one of her hind legs.

“Sweetie- (*grunt) what in Equestria do you think you’re doing!?”, Rarity screeched.

“You made a promise! If I show you that we can handle stuff like that, then you’d let us have the orb back!”, the filly asked.

“I know what I said, but-“

“Well, you just admitted that we proved how we’re mature enough to watch these stories. So, a deal’s a deal, right?”, she interrupted, continuing to press the issue much to Rarity’s frustration.

“Listen here, young lady! Not only is what you’re doing show that you’re still much too immature, it’s also starting to convincing me that I should skip everything and just ground you right now!”

“Go ahead, it won’t make a difference! Thanks to the rain, I’ll still be stuck inside for the whole week either way!”, the filly countered without hesitation.

“Alright, that’s it! You’re getting sent upstairs unless you let go in 3… 2-“

The mare was interrupted yet again by two more bodies clinging on to her front hoof and other hind leg; looking down, she saw Sweetie Belle’s friends have grabbed ahold of her as well.

Rarity, of course, helplessly gawked at the sight.

“Not you girls too!”

She began trying to pry them off with her magic.

“You all realize I can (*grunt) tell all your caretakers about what you’re doing when they come back, right? (*grunt) You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Try as she might, no matter how hard she pulled their iron tight grips would not give. It became apparent that her threats would have no effect either, as she saw how defiantly they looked back up at her. Rarity let out an impatient groan. There was no telling how long these were willing to keep this up for and she really, really didn’t have the time to find out. Realizing that a different approach was in order, she took in a deep breath and released all remaining tension with a deep sigh.

“Alright, girls. You had better start listening, because I will only make this offer once.”, she said. “If you let go of me right now, I’ll let you use this orb for the rest of the week. So, long as you always complete your homework first!”

The fillies all broke out into smiles; each one of them immediately dislodged from Rarity’s legs to gather together.

“Yeah!”, they cried out as they gave a each other a group hoof bump in celebration.

Rarity smiled in relief, “Now, that being said, I still need to borrow this for the rest of the day.”

“Whaaat!?”, the trio chorused in disbelief.

“Ah-ah-ah! Don’t give me that!”, the mare answered back disapprovingly. “All things considered, I can say with confidence that this is the most generous offer I can reasonably give you.”

As much as they grumbled at the way Rarity subtly flexed her authority as bearer of the Element of Generosity, they recognized the truth in what she said. They’ve already gotten to see one story for today. They’ve also gotten into the habit of doing their homework before enjoying their free time, so that wasn’t an outlandish demand for them either. Plus, show could they possibly turn down an offer that includes letting them have the crystal ball for the rest of the week? There’s no better time to take what they can get.

Begrudgingly, Sweetie Belle finally responded.

“Okay.”

This was immediately followed other two humbly saying, “Thanks, Miss Rarity.”

“That’s better. Now head upstairs, I’m sure you three still have much to get started on.”

After watching the girls get their stuff and head to the stairs without saying another word, the fashionista went back to what she was doing. After getting all her materials together, she rewound the story back to the close up of the gasser’s mask, the sight of which now made her beam with excitement. Those girls really should count themselves lucky that they, by complete accident, helped her discover the face of her Phantom.

Upstairs, the girls were just getting their homework out of their backpacks; realizing there was no better time than right now, Apple Bloom turned and called out to Sweetie Belle.

“Hey, Sweetie?”

“Yeah?”, the unicorn questioned back.

The farm filly looked her friend right in the eye and said, “Ah just wanted ta say, that was a gutsy thing ya did back there. Ah still can’t believe ya managed ta convince yer sister ta watch a story with us!”

“I’ll say!”, Scootaloo joined in. “How come you’ve suddenly been showing so much nerve, lately?”

Sweetie rubbed the back of her head as she answered, “I guess I was just having too much fun with you guys that I wasn’t ready for this to end. Figured it would be better to at least try getting one last story to watch together.”

She paused before quickly adding, “That, and you girls have probably started rubbing off on me.”

“Well, it’s not like I can blame you. Who wouldn’t want to take after me?”, Scootaloo said with a smirk that instinctually made Sweetie role her eyes; she wouldn’t normally describe her pegasus friend as a try-hard, but there was probably no better label for her in moments like this where she clearly was imitating Rainbow Dash.

Apple Bloom looked on at Sweetie with a remorseful gaze, the guilt she felt rapidly building up in her causing some hesitation, though she quickly pushed through to say, “Listen. Sweetie, ah really wanna say ah’m sorry for tattlin’ on ya like that.”

Scootaloo immediately realized what her friend was talking about and hung her head in shame as she also apologized.

“Y-yeah, it was pretty uncool of us. Doesn’t help that I probably set a record for how fast it took for somepony to rat out their friend.”

“Yeah. We didn’t mean ta make things worse for ya. We were just scared of gettin’ in trouble.”, Apple Bloom stated. “Still, that ain’t no excuse for throwin’ ya under the apple cart like that. So… ya forgive us?”

Truth be told, Sweetie Belle was legitimately taken aback by this; that was entirely because, with everything that happened since, she had totally forgotten about it.

“Well… even though both of you told on me, you did also stick by me when I demanded Rarity to let us have the orb back afterwards.”, she answered with a reassuring smile. “So, how about we just agree that you’ve already made up for it?”

The other two grinned, relief plain to see in their expressions.

“You got it!”, Scootaloo replied.

Author's Note

After taking way too long, I have finally delivered. And here I was foolish enough to think I could complete this fic by this fall; that’s out the window now.
There were several more things I wanted to say, but seeing how I’ve just completed this chapter as I’m writing this and I’m tired, I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter that much.
I can’t stress this enough, please leave a comment down below. I really need feedback on this and I need to know if I still have an audience.
Edit: Forgot to add the embedded video. Thankfully it’s here now, for your convenience!

Author’s Note: Poll #2 [CLOSED]

Author's Note

While it may not have been as one sided as the last poll, the results are still very clear: The winner is Devil in the Doll by a vote of 15 to 6.

Author’s Note: Poll #2 [CLOSED]

Here we are again with another poll where you decide what story the Crusaders will be reacting in one of the upcoming chapters. Keep in mind that the episode that loses the vote will not be included at any point in the story later on, so I wanna give you until Thursday to think it over before the poll closes. I’m also linking both videos here just to make sure everyone has a chance to see them before they cast their votes. Post your choice down in the comment section below!

The Devil in the Doll

2 The Horrifying Hexham Heads

The Baby Aleshenka

Tuesday Night

Standing in front of the stove, Rarity carefully looked at every assignment hoofed over to her by the girls, who all stood there staring up at her with anticipation. After numerous, long minutes of sifting through their papers, Rarity made an affirmative noise and lowered them down to the girl’s level. As they took the assignments back in their hooves, Rarity gave them a smile before she spoke.

“Excellent work here, girls. I say you’ve earned your much deserved free time.”, she said, earning an ecstatic “yes!”, a relieved “phew!” and a victorious fist pump from Sweetie, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo respectively.

“I think we all know what you’ve been looking forward to.”, the mare said as she levitated the crystal ball off the counter and held it out to her sister, who eagerly took it in her own magic.

“Thanks, Rarity!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed from behind her as she and her friends sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, the sounds of their hooves resonating through the boutique until Rarity heard her sister’s door close.

The mare then finally turned around and turned on the stove, boiling the pot of water on top. Sticking the pasta in the pot, she thought about the work she had done today and yet to do tomorrow. While she had mostly completed her sketch for the costume, over the course of the day she realized that some changes were going to be made to that mask’s design. There was no way the performer playing the Phantom was going to be able to sing through that breathing apparatus. She did have a few possible ideas for design changes that would keep the overall appearance of the original mask intact. Though, it was definitely going to be tough to pitch this design to Stage Craft with the type of stipulations it will come with. Then again, he has been known to experiment with new techniques…

While she scrolled through the list of stories waiting for Apple Bloom to give her the command to stop, Sweetie Belle stole a glance out the corner of her eye to see Scootaloo slowly trotting to the window. When Sweetie heard Apple Bloom give the okay to stop, she once again looked behind her. Just barely did she manage to see tail end of Scootaloo’s scanning of the outside world before suddenly closing the curtains. The unicorn had no clue why or when her friend started getting uneasy around windows, but there was no denying that she was. Just yesterday she saw Scootaloo stealing several nervous glances at the window while they were doing their homework; she even had her rest disturbed last night by the pegasus filly getting up to close her curtains, claiming for whatever reason she couldn’t sleep with them open.

“The Baby Al-le-shan-ka…”

Scootaloo’s ears turned in Apple Bloom’s direction as she heard the title read aloud, her head following almost immediately.

“Did ah just hear ‘baby’?”, she asked Apple Bloom.

“Yup.”

Sweetie felt a smile curl onto her face, “Do you think human babies might be cute?”

While she was as eager as her friend was to see what a human baby looks like, something bigger was on Apple Bloom’s mind.

“Ah’m just wonderin’ what’ll be so special about this baby? Think they’ll grow into someone important?”, she pondered aloud.

“Let’s just hope this isn’t about a ghost baby.”, Scootaloo said with a shiver as she sat down between her friends. “Or anything like that.”

“I personally think this is going to be more like that story about the Virgin Mary than anything else.”, Sweetie suggested.

Clicking on the video, the girls were greeted by the image of an elderly, hooded lady who was walking during a moonlit night through the woods on the outskirts of her town, according to the narrator. Walking stick in hand, she looked down at a small, defenseless thing wrapped in a bundle and abandoned on the side of the road, a baby. The whole trio naturally felt a tad sorry for the poor little tot and admired the old woman who took it home with her to raise it herself. However, an unfortunate series of events would supposedly leave the woman’s community in disbelief, questioning whether Aleshenka was even human.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Scootaloo questioned.

Raising an eyebrow, Sweetie asked, “Are they saying that this baby was… deformed or something?”

“Ah doubt there’d be much of a story if it was just one little deformity.”, Apple Bloom pointed out.

The unicorn gave an uncertain frown, “I’d usually agree with you, but we probably don’t really know how most humans actually behave. Sure, Princess Twilight said the humans she met were nice but there could be different parts of the human world that treat people with birth defects really, really badly.”

“You two are so worried about what it looks like, but why haven’t you even thought about what it mayhave actually did?”, Scootaloo stated, questioning her fellow Crusaders.

“What do ya mean ‘did’? It’s just a baby.”, Apple Bloom asserted.

Scootaloo countered by saying, “Yeah, a baby who’s story is being told here.”

After pointing a hoof at the screen for emphasis, she added, “And I’m pretty sure Pinkie Pie would take issue with what you said there.”

Before their conversation could continue on like that, it was suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable, shrill wails of an infant emitted from the crystal ball.

Like her friends, Scootaloo covered her ears as she spoke, “Ugh. I guess we now know human babies cry like regular ones too.”

The crying thankfully faded into the background as the sight of a modest, snow-coated village materialized on screen. Located in the rural parts of Russia’s vast Siberian wilderness, places like this seemed like a harsh existence to outsiders who inhabit a more conventional world, with its elaborate technologies and innovations.

“Ah swear, this perfectly describes how our family up in Manehattan think Ponyville is like.”, said Apple Bloom.

“Wait, so you’re saying Babs thinks we still live in the dark ages down here?”, Scootaloo asked with a perplexing raised eyebrow.

“Ah actually meant the Oranges.”, the farm filly clarified. “Though, now that ya mention it, the first time Babs ever visited us she was shocked that we actually own a radio and that we don’t churn our own butter.”

Despite how cold, remote and bare-bones their environments were, these people of the Ural Mountains still woke up to a day of eating, working and sleeping just like anywhere else. The people were perfectly comfortable with this way of life. One could also tell that this village didn’t receive much contact with the outside world, despite having access to certain modern luxuries that would give them such exposure. Yet, a moment would occur that would not only break up the monotony of their lives, but draw the unwanted attention of the entire world and the unwelcome stir of controversy upon this community, such as one case in 1996.

Scootaloo’s mouth hung open at the heavily-weighted descriptions for this event.

“Seriously, what’s this baby’s deal?”

This wasn’t even that long of a build up, all things considered. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel anxious for some sort of answer. The incident in question took place in the territorial district of Kyshtym, a town located on the fringe of Chelyabinsk Oblast, at the southern toe of the Ural Mountains. Scootaloo groaned internally while the narrator decided to dump the territory’s entire history on them. While they had no idea what “Tsars” were supposed to be, there was also something else mentioned that they’d become all too familiar with.

“Golly! Is there any place these nazis haven’t invaded?”, Apple Bloom exclaimed in a tone that switched from impressed to distaste in the same breath.

“Ohhh. So these are the same ‘Soviets’ we heard about in that ‘Third Reich’ three parter. I knew I heard the word ‘Russia’ somewhere before!”, Sweetie Belle chimed in.

Despite the site’s significant growth to house key production facilities and almost a million people, its biggest source of notoriety comes from its proximity to the nuclear research facilities that the Soviets erected during the Cold War.

“Who were the Soviets fighting in the Cold War, again?”, Scootaloo pondered. “Cause I think I remember them saying it was the Americans.”

“We never were told what this ‘Cold War’ was about, were we?”, Sweetie observed.

Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb went up above Scootaloo’s head as she began to speak again, “Actually, you think we could start calling our snowball fights, ‘cold wars’ from now on?”

“Why would we call them that?”, asked her unicorn friend.

“For street cred! Anypony can handle a regular snowball fight, but we’re too cool for that!”, Scootaloo explained. “In fact, our Cold Wars are so intense that we come out of them with black eyes!”

In the span of a single blink of the eyes, Sweetie’s expression only grew more quizzical.

“That happened once, to you and it sucked! You had to be sent home crying, Apple Bloom got grounded and we couldn’t have another snowball fight for two weeks.”

“Do you have to suck the cool out of everything?”, the pegasus indignantly asked with a flushed pout.

Apple Bloom, for her part, was more focused on the illustration of the Mayak nuclear fuel reprocessing plant. She almost gawked at the site’s insanely tall chimney as well massive dome structure behind it, the purpose of which she could not figure out; the other buildings only managed to catch her attention when she noticed the flames that were consuming them. The narrator that this was the immediate aftermath of an explosion in 1957 which unleashed a cloud of radioactive dust that traveled as far as twenty thousand kilometers, contaminating the nearby Techa River.

“Twenty thousand in kilometers is far, right?”, Scootaloo asked.

While Sweetie answered with a nod, the narrator further explained how the town of Chelyabinsk was far enough away to avoid this disaster. However, the dumping of radioactive residue into the river in following years led to a whole new environmental catastrophe. This lead some ecologists to claim that pollution in the region was the cause of numerous birth defects in the years after the disaster. It wasn’t enough that this fact made all three fillies cringe, it also raised more questions on what nuclear power even was or where it came from.

“Remind me in the future ta stay as far away from anythin’ nuclear as possible.”, Apple Bloom said as if she was somehow certain that Equestria would discover nuclear energy within her lifetime.

Perhaps it was this incident that indirectly put the town of Kyshtym back on the map by indirectly leading to another scandal, which would turn the collective scientific community on its head. The story then cut back to the image of the hooded granny from the beginning, the narrator identifying her as Tamara Vasilievna Prosvirina.

“Sheesh, did we have to learn her whole name? Why don’t you tell us her birthday and address while you’re at it?”, Scootaloo murmered.

According to legend, she was trekking through the darkly-lit woods outside her town when, on this eerie night, she heard an odd sound in the near distance. Thinking it could be a trapped animal, she approached it. The closer she got though, more she and the girls watching recognized the sound as the wails of a distressed child. While all the fillies flattened their ears against their skulls once more to block out the crying, the old lady looked down to confirm her suspicion; lying in the debris of the town’s garbage heap was a little baby.

While Sweetie Belle covered her mouth with one hoof, the other two’s jaws slacked open slightly as all of their eyes projected their disbelief back at the screen.

“That’s just… cold.”, Scootaloo remarked with an audible weight in her voice.

Sweetie suddenly uncovered her mouth to speak, “Did this baby’s family really hate it so much that they couldn’t just drop them on someone’s doorstep?”

Apple Bloom felt her throat tighten in reaction to that prospect her friend raised, as if it were a gross, oversized pill that she couldn’t handle swallowing. Thankfully, she got some relief upon hearing that the old lady decided to take the baby home and raise it herself. Though it probably would take her a good minute or two to fully move past that.

“That baby got a lucky break there when that nice lady found him. I’d hate to imagine what it’s like to be an orphan.”, Scootaloo confessed.

Fortunately for her, she didn’t notice her two friends averting their eyes in directions opposite hers; it took a lot of strength to keep themselves from awkwardly whistling or rubbing their own shoulders. Neither of them were quite ready to admit to Scootaloo that, for a while, pretty much every pony in town thought she was an orphan. Even they weren’t sure whether or not she was living in an orphanage for the first year and a half they knew her since she, oddly, never once invited them over during that time. The skeptical reactions their families gave when they told them Scootaloo’s account of her parents as globetrotting explorers didn’t help either.

Two days later, Tamara would be visited by her daughter-in-law of the same name. As the latter was about to leave, the elderly woman suggested that they feed the baby together. This came as a bit of a shock to the younger woman, as Tamara Senior had never mentioned anything about a child up to that point. Little did she know that what was waiting in the bedroom would not only immediately trump that surprise, but would change her life forever.

The faces on both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom visibly wrinkled and cringed into expressions reflecting their repulsion, which they were about to vocalize until…

“*Gasp! It’s sooo cute!”

The two immediately snapped their heads to look at their friend. The quirked eyebrows and befuddled gapes they gave went unnoticed by her as she stared at the illustrations with starry eyes. There were a lot of ways the farm filly and her pegasus friend could describe the thing on screen staring up at the viewer from its spot in the crib while swaddled in a blanket. Cute was not the first word that would come to mind. Just like Tamara Jr., the two fillies were unnerved by this “baby” and its abnormally large head combined with its unusually small body, its skull’s hard and elongated features, and its large, cat-like eyes that was apparently not accompanied by any eyelids. For Apple Bloom though, the detail caught her attention the most was that it had “no visible signs of genitalia”; somehow, she knew that if her brother were watching this with them, he would slowly and solemnly shake his head at that detail as if to say, “That poor thing”.

Even though she’d obviously been given “the talk”, she hadn’t quite figured out why some guys seemed to value their ding-a-ling’s so much that they’d rather lose practically anything else before losing their precious “sword”.

The most shocking feature was the small hole it had in place of a mouth, through which it slurped the food in at surprising speeds. After it finished eating, the infant wagged a long, scarlet tongue out at the women. While a couple of the fillies watching shivered at that detail, the narrator told how Tamara Jr. would later go on to claim that the baby was not of this planet.

“Well, duh! What else could it be?”, Scootaloo rhetorically asked.

Sweetie Belle retorted by suggesting, “It could be from a far away place that still exists in their world.”

“Ehhh. Ah think ya both have a point.”, interjected Apple Bloom, getting her friends’ attention. “These humans probably know every inch of their planet like it’s the back of their hoof, so it probably is from outer space in that case. But the answer coulda been the opposite if this was happenin’ here in our world.”

“What do you mean?”, Scootaloo questioned.

“Ya know how they say there’s so many parts of Equus that ain’t been explored or mapped yet. If that’s the case, who’s ta say there ain’t somethin’ just as weird as that livin’ across the sea from Equestria?”, Apple Bloom said.

When her daughter-in-law asked her what the baby’s name was, Tamara Sr. said that she named it Aleshenka or “Little Alexei”. Sweetie Belle would have continued internally squee-ing at the name given until it was explained that apparently the name comes from one of her deceased grandsons. Every pony watching looked as if they wanted to say something, perhaps wishing they could somehow console the granny on the screen over her loss. That line of thought though was quickly put aside by the mention of how the neighbors in the old lady’s apartment complex took notice of her “strange behavior” and doubted all her cheery claims about a new baby in her care.

“Why didn’t they believe her?”, Apple Bloom wondered aloud.

“I mean, this lady apparently hasn’t realized that the baby she found isn’t a human like her. Is it a stretch to think she’s off her rocker?”, Scootaloo answered. “Still gotta feel bad for her though.”

Sweetie was too busy trying to figure out why the lady chose that name for her new baby to participate in her friends’ conversation. She couldn’t pinpoint an exact reason, but she could guess that it had something to do with guilt. Maybe she could ask Rarity about this?

The neighbors described Tamara’s behavior as erratic and evasive, especially when asked to give details about the child. One night, a neighbor supposedly heard the older woman banging on her door, claiming she was frightened because her baby was ill and she had no medicine to give him. This lead to local police coming to her apartment and taking her into protective custody. The Crusaders were stunned at the sight of two men carrying her by the arms across the halls of the local hospital where she was to get a medical evaluation.

“They’re locking her up in a mental hospital!? What for!? She didn’t do anything!”, Sweetie spoke up.

Apple Bloom shook her head at this, “Ah knew the neighbors thought she was a bit nutty, but she don’t seem dangerous.”

“At worst, you could accuse her of being senile. But that should only get her a stay in a retirement home with other cooky windbags like her.”, Scootaloo added.

Just when they were beginning to wonder what kind of dystopia this world was, the narrator clarified how there were other accounts of these events which insisted that Tamara’s neighbors discovered she was seriously ill and that she was then taken to the hospital accordingly. Even though that made them worry for the old lady’s health, this version was somewhat more justifiable in the eyes of the trio. Still, in either case, Tamara was taken away against her will, stressing the entire way about how she had a baby that she couldn’t leave at home. Unfortunately, nobody took her seriously.

“So, they didn’t even check if there was a baby!?”, the unicorn once again exclaimed. “Not to just be sure!?”

The reason why they apparently did not believe her was because they were given the impression that she was in the early stages of some sort of mental illness. Neighbors cited examples of her odd behavior such as decorating her house with flowers that she stole from the local cemetery. Even with this fact in mind, the other two fillies had to concur with Sweetie. They saw no reason why the orderlies couldn’t check her place to see if anything was out of sorts. In that scenario, the baby’s safety wouldn’t have been so up in the air. Speaking of which, with Tamara Sr. away at the hospital, that meant little Aleshenka was now alone in the apartment.

“So, what’s gonna happen ta him, now?”, Apple Bloom asked in a shaky tone.

Before they even had a chance to get an answer, the narrator would plant even more uncertainty in their heads when he advised how all the events he’d describe from this point on are all unconfirmed and there is wide speculation about how much of what’s been reported is actually true. The story then began focusing on a police officer named Vladimir Bendlin, who was at the local police station in the nearby town of Novogorny to question a man named Vladimir Nurdinov. The latter was a petty thief who had been arrested in connection to an incident involving stolen power cables. The Crusaders would be in for another shock when it turned out that Nurdinov had something he had no use for and wanted Bendlin to take off his hands: a dead baby.

Everypony in the room was speechless, stuck in a state of inaction wearing expressions of pity. Sweetie Belle in particular looked like she wanted to let loose a tear even though she wouldn’t. Although, Apple Bloom was able to relate the most as somepony who lost a loved one not too long ago. Scootaloo personally hated how this moment was reminding her of the endless number of ways life can be unexpectedly cut short. Despite never knowing little Alexei, they still couldn’t help but ask themselves one question.

Why did he have to die like that?

Bendlin would agree to head to Vladimir Nurdinov’s apartment and when he searched the place he found what he could only describe as the mummified remains of a small child.

While Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle audibly gagged at that mental image, Scootaloo thought to herself, “I thought this baby was an alien, now it’s a mummy?”

While she took another moment to figure what the narrator actually meant, the other two kept talking.

“Ugh!”, Apple Bloom wretched. “How’d that happen ta the baby’s corpse so quickly?”

“You don’t think Vladimir mummified the baby himself, right?”, Sweetie asked.

“Why would the cop wanna do that?”, Apple Bloom asked in confusion.

“Not that Vladimir, the other Vladimir.”

“Okay, but what for? Ta sell it? Who in the hay would want that?”

When Sweetie visibly struggled to give an answer, Scootaloo chimed in, “Maybe he was planning on scamming rich people into buying it…”

After getting a puzzled look from Apple Bloom, she clarified, “You know, by telling them he got it from ancient mummy’s tomb or whatever.”

According to Bendlin, the strangest thing about this body was how much its malformed and emaciated appearance resembled an unborn fetus. Its grayish, hairless body barely measured ten inches in height and its head was covered in little dark spots. When he asked Nurdinov how he came into possession of this body, he supposedly claimed that he spent some time in Tamara Senior’s apartment and was even present whenever she fed Aleshenka. Yet, he coincidentally was out of town at the time Tamara had been detained for medical evaluation. After coming back to the place and finding the baby had died from lack of nourishment, he decided to take the remains back to his home.

“Uhh… as ya do?”, Apple Bloom remarked. “Seriously, his first thought when seein’ this dead baby was ta collect it like a buckball card?”

Just as Sweetie Belle was about to ask what Nurdinov was even doing there, it was explained that some sources claim that Tamara Junior would actually him to come and check on the baby with her; she didn’t want to be alone with it because of how much it frightened her. Struck with grief upon finding the baby dead, she tasked Nurdinov with giving the baby a proper burial which he apparently never got around to doing. Bendlin then took the body to have its DNA analyzed in the hopes of finding any relatives. Or on the other hand, to ascertain whether this was actually a hoax.

“So, is DNA what humans like to call hoof prints… or hand prints, I guess?”, Scootaloo suggested.

“But hoof prints are never used for that. No pony has the same hoof print marks as anypony else, not even their families.”, Sweetie Belle pointed out.

Fading away from the image of Bendlin’s questioning of Nurdinov, the story then transitioned to a new sight that was enough to pause the girls’ conversation. Set in what was clearly a laboratory, a woman in scientific garb carefully studied a beaker full of fluid she held in one hand which was illuminated by a bright lamp mounted just above. Seeing Aleshenka’s shriveled and deformed body on the table right next to her made the trio of fillies want to look away from the screen. After conducting several tests on the infant’s body and skin, the woman, a forensic analyst and clinical expert named Dr. Lyubov Romanowa, concluded that it was not of a regular human child. She would cite numerous features that seemed impossible for a child to have, even in cases of extreme deformity or birth defects.

That caught the full attention of every Crusader; even Sweetie Belle, who had been averting her eyes from the screen, still had her ears standing straight in attention so that she may not miss any details.

Romanowa noted how the skull was composed of only four bones and its shape indicated an “unnatural elongation”.

“Narrator, you know there’s simpler ways to say it had a weird skull shape, right?”, Scootaloo said.

“Oh come on.”, Sweetie responded with a roll of the eye. “Those weren’t even really big words.”

Aleshenka’s fingers were also long and pointed. His body was far too short to naturally support the head. Lastly, there was one deformity that she had never once seen on any malformed child in her entire career; a head cavity that was unusually sharp and pointed. For Romanowa, this could only mean one thing: Aleshenka was never human to begin with, but something entirely alien. Once word got around that Tamara had supposedly been raising an alien baby, it wasn’t long before it got the attention of the local press. After catching wind of the story, a local television broadcaster immediately got to contacting Bendlin for any info on the creature. To which he responded by sending footage of him inspecting the body.

Before they could even think about readying themselves for what they were about to see, the footage came onto screen. The fillies all reeled back in horror and disgust immediately, one of them even letting out a sharp gasp. The illustration from before of of Alexei’s corpse casually laid out on a table was a bit off putting. But this actual footage they were seeing of his grotesque, mummified body being poked, turned and handled like a dissection subject from their science class was genuinely uncomfortable. One would expect them to be tempted to turn the orb off, feeling a level of nausea they hadn’t felt since the Wendigo story. However, rather than disgust, it was a morbid fascination that seemed to take hold of them as they couldn’t bring themselves to look away from the projection. They honestly weren’t used to seeing a scene like this playing out in real life before their eyes rather than within the confines of a comic book illustration.

So focused were they on the mummified alien baby that they missed much of what the narrator initially said. Though they managed to tune back in just in time to hear how journalists were flocking to the town of Kaolinovvy to interview anyone in the know about the so-called “Kyshtym Alien”. There were reports of locals who would happily sell any information they had to the right buyer and reporters from all over the place lapped it up. Many locals accused Tamara Junior and Nurdinov of hoaxing the entire thing as part of a get-rich-quick scheme. But as it turns out, neither of them would come forward to sell any information regarding the baby, appearing to rule out that accusation.

Unsurprisingly, the attention this incident gained from the press internationally meant it was only a matter of time before of self-proclaimed UFO experts started coming in the hope of getting a look at Aleshenka’s body. Unfortunately for them, by the time they’d have gotten there the baby was no longer in Kyshtym. Bendlin handed it to a UFO research academy headed by Boris Zolotov, one of the most respected ufologists in the world.

“Ya gotta feel a little bad for those other UFO fellas who didn’t get ta look at it.”, Apple Bloom said before she began rubbing her chin. “Actually, ah wonder if ufologists hold grudges about stuff like that.”

A spark seemed to light behind Scootaloo’s eyes as she spoke, “Imagine how cool it’d be if these ufologists actually dealt with their rivals the same way archaeologists do. Dueling in the wreckage of a spaceship to see who gets to take the good stuff with them!”

“Ya do remember that archaeologists ain’t treasure hunters like Daring Do, right?”

“Tch.”

Scootaloo scoffed at the way Apple Bloom regurgitated their history teacher’s words back at her. Funnily enough, she probably would’ve just accepted that too if it weren’t for a little secret that Rainbow Dash decided to share with her. If only she could share it with Mr. Yesteryear too so she that she could rub it in his face.

“That’ll show him.”, she thought, most pleased with herself.

Zolotov claimed he wanted to conduct further testing on the body, so Bendlin had obliged him in the hopes of getting definitive answers on the nature of this infant. Though, after the passing of several months with no word on the results, those hopes were dashed. It would be a while before Zolotov was located. When he was finally given the opportunity to be interviewed regarding the whereabouts of little Alexei’s body, he had one bizarre story to tell.

The Crusaders all halted whatever conversation they might’ve been having; not only to make sure they didn’t miss Zolotov’s story, but because of the eye catching illustration that accompanied it. One of Zolotov’s assistants, tasked with transporting the body to a lab in a nearby town, suddenly had their journey stopped halfway by something they couldn’t have possibly seen coming. All three fillies’ eyes were drawn to the saucer-shaped craft that had landed in the middle of the road, and even more so to the strange figure making its way towards the assistant’s car. Despite how much dark silhouette engulfed the image, the few obvious details they could make out was enough to tell them this was not a human. An abnormally slim body, strange eyes and an extremely large, melon-shaped head.

All of them realized that they very well might be looking at little Alexei’s mom or dad, and that made them very nervous as they looked at the alien who appeared to be making slow, considered strides towards the vehicle. Once it got to the window, the creature “wordlessly” asked the driver to hand the baby over, to which she complied. While Scootaloo wondered what the narrator meant by “wordlessly”, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle fixated more on the alien approaching. Sweetie was simply glad to see that their parents might get closure, but Apple Bloom worried what this alien might do to the assistant upon seeing the baby was dead. But thankfully, she got to release a sigh of relief as it simply took the body back with it, got into its craft and took off into the sky to never be seen again.

“Did he mean it used telepathy or whatever? I could’ve sworn we saw something like that before, but where?”, Scootaloo puzzled.

“How did they know exactly where to find the body?”, Sweetie began wondering.

Speaking of which, when asked to identify where the encounter took place, Zolotov said he could not trace the location and promptly refused to discuss the matter further.

“That’s ain’t suspicious at all.”, Apple Bloom sarcastically stated.

“Oh… yeah, I guess that checks out.”, Sweetie responded with no irony detectable in her voice. “A lot of ponies would probably want to put something like that behind them.”

Not everyone believed this version of the story however, some theorizing that Zolotov was actually intercepted by government agents who made him give the baby to them.

It was upon hearing this that the unicorn finally realized what her friend was actually getting at; she dare not turn to see the deadpan look she knew Apple Bloom was giving her right now.

A purported witness even claimed to have been visited by a mysterious and unnamed group of people who made him sign a bunch of papers to ensure that they’d never speak of the body again.

“You think that might’ve been-“

“Please, don’t say it.”, Apple Bloom interrupted. “Ah am so tired of talkin’ about… them.”

“I’m just saying, it’s possible.”, concluded Scootaloo.

An even stranger theory was that an eccentric collector bought the body from Zolotov for a hefty price.

“Ain’t this Zolotov fella supposed ta be someone who dedicated his life ta studyin’ aliens and UFOs. How could someone like him give up that body so easily?”

Regardless of Apple Bloom’s objections, these theories were all just that, theories and pure speculation. If there’s one thing that is confirmed, it’s that Aleshenka’s body was never seen again. That might’ve been the end for this mystery if it weren’t for the fact that someone else had approached Bendlin in 1997. This person claimed that she possessed the very same shawl that Tamara Sr. used to wrap the baby in, which she had decided to keep hidden during this whole media frenzy.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I forgot about Tamara already!”, Sweetie Belle said.

Scootaloo had a similar realization, “They’ve had to have let her go by then, right? I mean, hasn’t all of this proven she wasn’t crazy?”

They hated to think that, despite all of that, she was kept in a mental institution until her dying days.

The woman said she would lend the shawl to Bendlin on the condition that he do a serious investigation and DNA analysis on it, which he was all to eager to do. After showing the shawl to Tamara Jr. and confirming that this was indeed Aleshenka’s, he then took it to the Vavilov Institute of General Genetics in Moscow. Even after years of research and testing, the results would ultimately prove to be inconclusive. No residue indicating extra-terrestrial origin was found; however, particles of organic material mixed in with human DNA and flecks of female blood matter suggested a miscarriage or abortion. The trio of fillies weren’t sure whether to focus on their pity at the suggestion of a miscarriage or their confusion over what an abortion was.

Trace amounts of alcohol were also found, hinting that the baby had been doused with the substance just prior to being handed over to Bendlin.

Sweetie Belle couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Why would someone do that? Were his mom and dad… actually feeding their baby booze!?”

“How were they so much cooler than mah sister when it comes ta this?”, Apple Bloom wondered, recalling how vehemently her big sister refused to let her have her first sip of cider.

Which is even funnier considering that Applejack had just gotten done explaining that she had her first taste of cider at Apple Bloom’s age.

“But nooo, ‘ah seen alcohol destroy too many homes ta risk mah sister gettin’ on it this soon’, she says.”

Although the body was no longer present, the circumstantial evidence available was enough for researchers to conclude that it was likely nothing more than an underdeveloped fetus.

“I’ve never seen a fetus in person before, let alone a human one. But something about that just doesn’t seem right to me.”, Scootaloo asserted.

In April 2004, one of the original researchers who got to see the body first-hand, Dr. Irina Yermolaeva, recanted her original 1997 statement and declared that there was nothing alien about the body.

“Sweet Celestia, this as confusing as the story about The Bell! I’ve never heard someone pose so many questions and answer as few as this narrator does.”, Sweetie griped.

Though she did clarify that she believed it was once a living being and not a hoax. She found that the state of the body was consistent with many different cases of miscarried fetuses often found within twenty to twenty five weeks of development. She claimed that she had counted a complete rib cage, an ample shoulder girth and wrist bones, and whilst indeed the head was the strangest aspect of the body, she explained that it could’ve been incompletely formed during development.

Scootaloo rubbed her head, her hoof running softly through her mane.

“What a complete 180.”

“Ah remember Twilight sayin’ science changes its mind like this a lot, though.”, Apple Bloom was quick to point out.

In this doctor’s opinion, the body was deformed as a result of radioactive exposure, all thanks to the fallout the Kyshtym area experienced following the nuclear disaster of 1957. She believed Aleshenka had either been born prematurely or was miscarried and that the mother, now distraught, abandoned it in the very same woods where Tamara Sr. found him.

“So, radiation can turn ya into a monster too!?”

Sweetie Belle turned to face Apple Bloom, surprised by her friend’s insensitivity.

“He was not a monster!”, she chastised, making the farm filly fold her ears back as she winced.

There was one person who didn’t agree with Yermolaeva’s findings however, Bendlin’s clinical assistant Lyubov Romanowa. According to her, numerous children with premature birth defects were nothing compared to what she had seen in the infant’s body; she could point to at least twenty different features supposedly not commonly found in deformed children and which she cited as evidence that he was “not of human origin”. On top of the unprecedented physical characteristics, she also was quick to point out that human fetuses should not be able to live more than a few once exposed. This completely conflicted with testimony that Aleshenka lived for a few weeks before dying and during that time consumed food, which should’ve been impossible for a child born so prematurely. Despite this, the “Kyshtym Alien” was still making headlines as far as 1999.

Every Crusader frowned as the narrator that Tamara Sr. Had tried break free from the mental hospital that was holding during that same year.

“Being that old and having to spend your last years in an mental asylum? No thanks.”, declared Scootaloo.

One night in September she was seen on a wooded road outside the facility. Attempts to get her attention and convince her to come back got no response from her. Suddenly speeding out of the darkness, a car ran over and killed the old lady. Everypony’s jaws dropped for what wasn’t the first time that night, all of them becoming even more taken aback when the narrator described how it appeared to have been done deliberately.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned to see their friend’s reaction after hearing her stammer out the beginnings of a whole bunch of sentences that never got past the first word.

“But-. Wha-. It-. That-…. Why?”

Becoming acutely aware of how desolated their friend felt, both fillies reached over and gave her comforting pats on the back.

According to some conspiracy theorists suggest that there was the result of a wider plot by the Russian government, citing how Tamara was scheduled for a hypnosis session so that she could recount the entire experience.

“But… she didn’t even know that little Alexei was an alien. All she did was find on the side of the road, what could she possibly have revealed?”, the unicorn finally spoke.

“Are they gonna seriously say that even that story of how she found him in the first place might not even be true?”, her pegasus friend joined in.

Even the narrator acknowledged how this whole scenario gives rise to so many questions like the ones Sweetie and Scootaloo just raised, while unable to provide few answers in return. Was Aleshenka an underdeveloped fetus, a tragic result of radioactive disaster, or an alien found by a woman on the brink of a mental disorder? Did the Russian government intimidate people into silence and assassinate this elderly woman as part of a grand coverup? If so, why did they want it covered up in the first place; to cover up the existence of extra-terrestrials or hide the consequences of their past mistakes? Alternatively, has everyone been reading too much into what was probably a premature or aborted birth?

While these were all valuable questions, Sweetie Belle had a much grander question occupying her psyche.

“How can life be so unfair?”, she quietly asked herself.

A similar sentiment could be found amongst the rest of the trio.

Despite the sheer amount of media coverage and continued interest, the baby’s origin still cannot be determined to this day. One thing is for certain, something was indeed found in the woods outside Kyshtym by an old woman who selflessly accepted it into her life as if it were her child. Even though there was no happy ending to be found in this story, he provided some solace to the audience by gesturing to the act of genuine kindness at the center of this whole event. Whereas most would have rejected Aleshenka as soon as they saw him, Tamara took him in and provided with the warmth and care that every child should have.

Apple Bloom grew a bittersweet smile as she realized how that felt like something her dear departed granny would’ve done. For her part, Scootaloo was looking at this differently. If someone as sweet as this old lady has her kindness repaid with losing her newly adopted son, being thrown in a loony bin and suffering an untimely death, then is anyone actually safe from the absolute worst that life can cook up?

The narrator then concluded with this final message, “If indeed [Aleshenka] was of extra-terrestrial origin and was taken back by his own people, then it is our heartfelt hope that he found peace amongst the stars.”

Upon seeing the video come to an end, Apple Bloom took a deep breath; after exhaling she said, “Whew… that story there was uh…”

“Depressing? Yeah, you can say that again.”, Scootaloo interjected, getting up to stretch before trotting to the door. “I’m gonna check and see if dinner’s almost ready.”

It was as she saw her friend walk out the room that Apple Bloom noticed that it was actually raining for the first time since school ended that afternoon. With a grunt she got up and turned to say something to Sweetie Belle only to halt before her sentence could begin as she noticed her friend forlornly staring off into space. She then reached one hoof over to tap Sweetie’s shoulder.

“Um.. hey, Sweetie?”

The unicorn snapped out of her trance upon feeling the hoof on her shoulder, then her eyes followed the arm up to its source; looking up at Apple Bloom, she replied, “Uh yeah, what is it?”

“Ah was just gonna say, it looks like that story left a bad taste in yer mouth.”

When Sweetie Belle nodded her head at that, Apple Bloom continued, “Well ah just wanted ta let ya know that if it’ll help ya forget about, you can pick any story next that ya think will cheer you up. Won’t need ta do the whole blindfold thing.”

“Oh. Uh… thanks a lot. But to be honest, I don’t feel like watching another one tonight.”, the unicorn replied as she looked down at the ground.

“Oh.”, the farm filly blankly uttered.

“It’s no problem really. I just wish more things could’ve gone better for Tamara and Alexei. Just an ending where one of them came out okay.”

Something in that sentence seemed to light a bulb in Apple Bloom’s head as she realized what to say next.

With a comforting smile, she looked down at her friend and said, “Maybe, it did.”

Looking up with a confused look in her eye, Sweetie immediately came back with, “What?”

“Well, they said that his body was taken back ta his people, right?”, Apple Bloom to clarify. “If that’s true and they really are so advanced as a people, who’s ta say they don’t some high-level magic or technology that can actually bring Alexei back ta life?”

The longer she took in her friend’s words, the more Sweetie Belle’s expression softened; a slight smile even began to form in replacement of her glum frown.

“Yeah, you might be right.”

Before she could thank her friend though, Scootaloo called from downstairs.

“Rarity said the food is almost done! Better come down!”

With one last exchange of looks, they both agreed that a good meal was the best pick-me-up for the occasion. And so, they both went down the stairs, looking forward to the warm meal awaiting them. A nice reminder of the warm homes and loving caretakers that they were oh-so lucky to have.

Author's Note

I know this isn’t the story you guys were waiting for. And don’t worry, Devil in the Doll is still coming. I made that poll before finishing this chapter because I thought I would get done much sooner, maybe get back to the regular weekly posting schedule that I had last year. But a few setbacks and my trouble focusing made sure that wouldn’t be the case.
I kinda realized over the course of writing that this story was accidentally topical in a couple ways that I’m sure you can figure out. Though, rest assured I’m not going out of my way to bum you out; however, I must confess that these things have been getting to me lately.
But the show goes on nonetheless! Stay tuned for Devil in the Doll, everyone! :pinkiehappy:

Devil In The Doll

Wednesday Afternoon

In contrast to her surroundings, Rarity giddily cantered to her shop’s entrance, the pleased grin on her face signifying the first time in days that she felt content. She paid no mind to the sounds of distant thunderclaps, her door’s bell nor the three sets of hooves trotting just behind her. After figuring how the mask would work last night, the next thing Rarity had to do was figure how to translate the sleek, skin-tight outfit that inspired her design into a practical evolution of the phantom’s iconic costume, one that fit Stage Craft’s vision. She quickly realized that a trench coat was a natural substitute for his cape, though that still wasn’t enough; she understood that when Stage Craft said that the costume should like it was created in a poisonous world, he wanted something that at least appeared to be designed for hazardous environments.

She thankfully got the inspiration she needed when she saw a story in the morning newspaper about one of Manehattan’s schools burning to the ground, though miraculously nopony died as a result. After getting over her initial shock, her eyes landed onto the photo of one of the firefighters carrying a foal out of the rubble; it was right then she got the perfect idea. She could count herself lucky that “Quills, Sofas & Fabrics” actually had just the materials she needed. Who would’ve thought they had nomex in stock? With how quickly she was in and out of there, she even had time to pick the girls up from school.

One of the Crusaders, her sister, called out to her as she went up the stairs, “Hey Rarity, I got your mail for you. Do you want me to give them to you now?”

“Oh, thank you Sweetie Belle. I almost forgot.”, the mare replied from her spot on the steps.

After having the mail levitated out of her magical grasp, Sweetie wasted no time dashing to wherever her friends had gone. Humming a merry tune to herself, Rarity set the mail on a nearby counter upon entering her room; she’ll have time to read those later. Right now though, everything had fallen into place. Courtesy of Stage Craft, she started with only the actor’s measurements and a general directive. Just a few days ago she finally got the vision she had been seeking. And now, with the bag of fabric she’d just gently dropped on the floor, the sewing machine, her toolkit and the ponnequin standing in the center of the room, she was finally ready to start making the magic happen.

Putting on her glasses, Rarity took a deep breath as she eyed up the ponnequin before her.

“Together, you and I are going to blow Stage Craft away.”

“Grk!”

The walls of the newly made guest room echoed Apple Bloom’s grunts.

“Will you hold still down there?”, she heard above her. “I-ayyy! can’t get it if I’m too busy trying to keep myself from f-falling.”

Apple Bloom didn’t bother looking all the way up at her friend, not even opening her tightly shut eyes as she spoke back though gritted teeth, “Oh, sorry. Ah would hate ta be a burden!”

“Ugh! Just hurry up already and work your magic!”, another voice could be heard griping.

After steadying herself, Sweetie Belle looked straight at her target. With a simple shine of her horn, the crystal ball was levitated off the shelf. Wasting no time, Sweetie Belle looked down and dropped off the top of the totem she and her friends had formed, landing safely on her hooves.

“Wah! Shit-“

Sadly, the same could not be said for Scootaloo, who lost her balance and crashed to the floor as soon as Sweetie had jumped off her.

“Ow…”

Thankfully, the boutique was just big enough that Rarity probably couldn’t sense the impact from upstairs.

“Phew! Glad that’s finally over. Gave me a headache and back pain ta boot.”

After watching the farm filly walk past her and out the door, Sweetie Belle sensed her other friend come next to her and begin stretching her back as hard as she could until finally something could be heard popping back into place.

Scootaloo took no notice of Sweetie’s wince before she began following the earth pony out the door, massaging the back of her neck and grumbling all the while.

“Tell me about it.”

The two fillies immediately joined their friend in the kitchen, placing the orb right on the table. While Apple Bloom took her time getting her daily aspirin and gathering the snacks and drinks, Scootaloo sat down with Sweetie Belle. Patiently scrolling through the story list, the pegasus waited for a bit before Sweetie finally gave the word. Uncovering her eyes, the unicorn filly for once was stumped by the first word in the title.

“Devil in the Doll…?”, she read.

She heard Apple Bloom pop open a bottle and saw her down the pills with huge, sloshy gulps of soda from behind her.

“What is a devil, anyway?”, Scootaloo expectantly asked.

Sweetie tilted her head.

“I actually don’t know.”

“That’s a first.”, Apple Bloom commented after unleashing a loud sigh of satisfaction, proceeding to take a seat of her own.

Wanting to get one video in before they had to begin what would be hours of studying, Scootaloo wasted no more time getting the story started. Though, she’d soon find herself wondering if just skipping straight to the studying wouldn’t be so bad. She and her friends were all unfortunately graced with the sight of three toy dolls. Each of them were seated in a chairs, sitting in a row facing the viewer’s direction. Scootaloo especially hated how every doll felt they were sitting across the room, waiting expectantly for them. The narrator practically confirming her worst suspicions that these dolls were actually haunted.

“Why did it have to be a ghost story?”, she asked privately.

When the intro began, one of the girls finally had something to say.

“Why did the doll to the right look so sinister?”

With an incredulous sideways glance at Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo wondered to herself, “Only the one on the right?”

Waiting silently for the intro to play out, what they saw next was a bedroom; a nice-looking one too. But what really caught their attention was the human boy sitting on the bed, Robert Eugene Otto or “Gene” as he preferred to be called. He smiled at his friend sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. It was one of the dolls the Crusaders saw at the beginning, hand-stitched, beady-eyed and dressed in a sailor’s uniform.

Sweetie Belle squinted her eyes.

“Is it me or is that doll bigger than any toy I’ve ever had?”

By the looks of it, the puppet was indeed the same size as Gene.

“Why does the idea of a life-size doll feel kinda creepy?”, Scootaloo asked aloud.

While Sweetie Belle cracked open her own bottle of pop, Apple Bloom answered, “Sounds like a you problem, ah woulda loved ta get a doll that big when ah was young.”

Sweetie Belle cocked an eyebrow after taking the first sip of her drink.

“Um, you know we’re all technically still kids, right?”

“Maybe y’all still are, but I’ve had ta do some real growin’ up for my family’s sake.”, she said with an uncharacteristic air of pretension. “Besides, with how much grownups say I’m so mature for my age, ah must be almost eighteen mentally.”

Apple Bloom took a gulp of her drink then smacked her lips with a content sigh, unaware of the way her friend stared at her like she just grew a horn from her neck. Scootaloo normally would’ve seized the opportunity to join in the conversation so that she could forget about the ghost story for a second. But the narrator caught her attention when he mentioned that a nursemaid gave this to Gene as a parting gift after she got fired from her position for supposedly trivial reasons. While it was likely that she did this to ease the heartache of the boy she had grown attached to, Scootaloo had a sinking feeling that there was a more sinister purpose.

Still, Gene instantly fell in love with his newest companion who he, funnily enough, named after himself: Robert.

While he spent hours in his bedroom with his new friend, servants on the job swore they could hear him to talking to another boy from behind the door. Of course, most of them assumed it was just Gene who was providing the slightly gruffer voice for his inanimate companion. Others swear that the two voices they heard could not have come from the same boy. The narrator then recounted how Gene’s parents immediately rushed upstairs to his room as soon as soon as they heard him screaming; it only got more disturbing as his door inexplicably would not open, with “devilish” laughter being heard from the other side. Scootaloo reached into the nearest bag for a comforting hooful of cheese balls; she’d been wary of dolls ever since that one time Twilight had a mental breakdown and cast a spell that made the Crusaders obsess over her “Smarty Pants” doll.

Through the sound of their friend’s incessant crunching, the other two continued listening in. Like the parents who had finally forced their way in, they looked in awe at the wreck the room had become. What drew their eyes the most was the decapitated rocking horse, the sight of it causing their fur to frazzle and stick up the more they looked at it. When his mom and dad questioned him about why all of his toys were broken and his furniture turned over, Gene could only whimper about how it was all Robert’s doing. They appeared perplexed by the way their son shakily pointed at the doll which now sat quietly at the windowsill. The Crusaders knew better than the parents probably did, though; its motionless state would not fool them.

They were relieved when the story cut to the next illustration, fearing that vision of that headless rocking horse being burned into their brains. Scootaloo personally flip-flopped on whether this was an ominous threat somehow directed at her and her friends or a manifestation of theHeadless Horse’s spirit returning to haunt her. The windows around her shielded Scootaloo from the groaning winds picking up speed outside, yet she still felt a minor chill come over her if only for a brief moment.

Other incidents like this would crop up over time. This included Gene’s other dolls being found torn apart in different spots of the house as well as silverware discovered bent out of shape.

“Huh. I would’ve guessed that breaking the other dolls was a sign that Robert’s just jealous. But what’s he got against the silverware?”, Scootaloo observed privately.

There were also incidents where servants working in a particular room suddenly found themselves locked inside, with no one else to be found in the house. This lead to some of them to openly state that they believed the doll was cursed with some sort of black magic, namely voodoo.

“Wow, they didn’t immediately blame Gene for what was happening?”

Apple Bloom turned to her friend to ask, “What makes ya think Gene’s doin’ all this?”

“I don’t. I’ve just gotten so used to being blamed for every stupid thing Opal does, that I’d figured they’d give Gene the same treatment with Robert.”, Sweetie answered. “Seriously, why does Rarity never believe me? Like, so what if that cat’s paws aren’t capable of picking the lock to your bucking wine cabinet? I don’t even know how we even use our hooves for anything besides walking! Hasn’t stopped us though!”

Scootaloo, meanwhile, tensed up as a question of her own came to mind.

“Hold on, so this thing is a voodoo doll? Does that mean it’s gonna try to take Gene out of the picture? You know, so that Robert can take over his life instead?”

“That ain’t how voodoo dolls work.”

“How would you know?”

Scootaloo wouldn’t get an explanation once Apple Bloom’s full-attention was snatched up by what came next in the story. Gene ended up inheriting the Otto family home after his parents died. Her ears flopped down slowly as it slowly dawned on her how similar her family’s whole situation was right now. Sure, Applejack had been gradually taking on more of granny’s responsibilities over the years, but Apple Bloom could tell that still wasn’t totally prepared for the realization that this was what it had all been building up to.

Apple Bloom also realized that with how often her sister gets whisked off to another adventure or the frequency that Ponyville faces life-threatening disasters, she could suddenly wind up in the same position as AJ but with no one around to help her this time. She wondered how lonely Gene felt with his family out of the picture. She personally couldn’t think of many things more lonely than living in an empty Sweet Apple Acres, handling the family business all by herself. Little did Apple Bloom know that her friend sitting next to her was having similar fears; unlike her though, for Scootaloo it didn’t just start with this story.

As it turned out, Gene would not be alone in Otto manor. Not only had he kept Robert for all these years, but he decided to build the doll its own personal room. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he still kept Robert around even after he got married. Though, his insistence on treating the toy like an actual person would put an early strain on their marriage.

Visibly cringing, Apple Bloom had no clue what to say other than, “That is… so weird!”

“You know what’s even weirder? The fact that she didn’t leave the second he asked her if she’d be okay with letting a doll sit at the table with them.”, Scootaloo observed.

“Oh, come on! He’s not that bad!”

Turning to face Sweetie, Apple Bloom asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.”, she reasserted. “That might even be what this Anne lady liked about him.”

“That he’s creepy?”

“And possibly delusional?”, Apple Bloom added.

“He still has childhood wonder.”

Noticing that her friends only grew more perplexed, Sweetie elaborated, “Remember that time my sister dated Cheese Sandwich a couple months ago?”

“Yeah.”, they answered simultaneously.

“She told me how she envies our ‘childlike wonder’. She thought maybe the kind of stallion she needs is one that brings more uh… what was the word?”, she muttered before the word suddenly came back to her. “Whimsy! She wanted somepony who could bring more ‘whimsy’ into her life.”

As this conversation continued, the narrator explained how the situation became worse after Gene caved in to his wife’s demands to leave Robert in the attic and to stop talking to it altogether.

“Ah wonder what mah sister would think of this?”

Applejack did once tell her that someone’s true love would never make you choose between them and your friends.

“…oh, who am ah kiddin’? There ain’t no way she’d apply that to a toy.”

Scootaloo quirked a brow at her friend, “And that didn’t work out becaaauuse…?”

“Rarity said the dates he took her on were ‘overwhelming in all the ways I didn’t care for’”, Sweetie quoted while resting the back of her hoof against her forehead. “She also told me that’s when she realized that her life is already pretty busy and ‘exciting’ as it is. So, she broke up with him.”

“I still can’t believe how badly Cheese Sandwitch took that break up. I couldn’t go to Sugarcube Corner for a couple weeks cause his sulking bummed me out so damn much.”, Scootaloo recounted.

“He sure is lucky that Pinkie was there to offer him a place to stay and a shoulder to cry on though.”

Apple Bloom immediately followed up Sweetie’s statement by asking her, “Ain’t he still stayin’ over at her place?”

Pausing for only a moment to think it over, Sweetie soon responded, “Actually, yeah.”

“Hmmm. Wonder what that’s about?”, the unicorn filly then asked herself.

Before they could get further off track, the other two focused back on the story. The sounds of the storm grew closer only to fall deaf on the fillies’ ears. The only sound that had their attention was the narrator explaining how things escalated after Robert was put in the attic. Their eyes fell onto the two children standing outside the gate and staring upward at the Otto house. Following the boys’ gaze, the girls were taken aback slightly upon spotting Robert staring out the window. Apparently, the doll would supposedly be seen pointing and gesturing at people from the attic window. This drew several complaints from parents in the neighborhood about the doll terrorizing their children.

Scootaloo let loose an involuntary shudder as she imagined Smarty Pants doing the same thing.

As an up-close, off-putting view of Robert sitting in his chair materialized on screen, it was explained how there were countless strange occurrences around the home. Namely, Anne would hear the sounds of footsteps coming from the ceiling above her and her husband’s room only to find nobody up there besides the doll whenever they checked. Experiences like these would force her into a mental breakdown and she had to be committed to an asylum. That last detail worried Sweetie Belle. With the last episode still fresh in her mind, mental hospitals didn’t have a good track record in her eyes when it comes to taking care of older ladies with good hearts. When Gene passed away in 1974, the Otto would soon gain new occupants. Robert wouldn’t stay in the house for too long, especially after the new owners’ daughter had nightmares of Robert trying to kill her. The aging doll would be donated to the nearby East Martello Museum where he remains to this day, safely kept inside a protective glass case.

“I knew the Otto’s were rich, but were they that important?”, questioned Sweetie. “Cause I’m pretty sure they’d only want to display a dusty old doll if it belonged to a noble or someone like that.”

After giving it some thought, Scootaloo suggested, “You think they might’ve been told it was haunted and that’s why they wanted it?”

“Ah can see that. There’s museums out there that specialize in spooky cursed items like that.”

Apple Bloom learned this first-hoof when she spotted one on the side of the road during one of her family’s cross-country roadtrips. Try as she might though, she couldn’t convince her sister to make a stop at the tourist trap. She didn’t care if Applejack probably would’ve turned out to be right and it was a big scam, anything would’ve been worth a break from the insufferable tedium of the road.

Meanwhile, the unicorn filly wondered to herself if the same thing will happen to Diamond Tiara’s stuff in the far future.

Being contained did not stop Robert’s supernatural shenanigans. It’s said that people regularly try to take photos of him only for their cameras to inexplicably malfunction. Visitors have also reported seeing the doll’s facial expressions change, with its hands twitching down by its sides in the display case. Despite how much this doll terrorized the Otto family, Sweetie Belle wondered if she should feel a slight tinge of pity for the toy stuck in a glass box for the rest of its existence.

“It probably gets lonely in that glass box.”

The faint echoes of wind chimes emerged through the now moaning winds outside, just in time for the next story to start. In a glass case of its own sat another doll seen in the opening, a presumably life-like babydoll clad in a hooded sleeping gown and with a baby lamb in its lap. Identified as Mandy, this doll likely terrorized it’s previous owners in a similar fashion before being donated to Quensel City Museum. Though, with the person who donated Mandy to the museum back in 1991 insisting on remaining anonymous, this doll’s history remains unclear and lesser known than Robert’s.

Scootaloo narrowed her eyes, “Somehow, I just know that doll did something to convince its owner to go into hiding after giving it up. Probably changed her name and moved out of town just so it wouldn’t get her.”

This drew odd looks from both her friends, unsure where the pegasus got all of that from.

“Does she think these dolls are really that powerful?”, Apple Bloom privately asked herself.

“You don’t think she probably just wanted to avoid the attention?”

Scootaloo shooed away Sweetie’s doubt, “Please, everypony who isn’t Fluttershy wants to be on the news at least once… in a good context, at least!”

After thinking it over for a moment, they had to cede the point to Scootaloo. They personally couldn’t imagine not relishing the spotlight so long it wasn’t coming from a gossip column like the one they used to write for. They’d want to tell every creature in Equestria if they had a cursed doll in their possession. As far as they were concerned, a little publicity never hurt anypony… at least, most of the time. Right?

Since the day Mandy was brought in, the staff members who were tasked with preparing the doll for display would be plagued by haunting events. For example, when Mandy’s garments were taken away to be clean, the doll had to be sealed into a plastic bag for its protection. Almost immediately, staff in the immediate vicinity began to hear faint rustling noises; some even reported seeing the plastic twitching and moving on its own. When investigating the bag, they found no mechanism or power source that could’ve possibly caused the movement, just the doll. It was hoped that once Mandy and her clothing were restored to prime condition and she was put in her display case, incidents like this would never happen again. Unfortunately, as more strange occurrences cropped up to disprove that notion, staff would begin to lose their nerve.

All three fillies jolted at the crack-boom they heard outside and all turned to see the flashing sky. However, an even bigger scare was waiting for them on the orb’s projection. They all jumped in surprise again after turning back around to see Mandy’s face had changed. Scootaloo even let out an uncharacteristic yelp, only to have her mouth covered by her friend as she checked to see if that caught her sister’s attention from upstairs. The doll’s head was titled to its right. The face showed a few cracks in its porcelain skin, the biggest one running through one of the two empty, dark sockets in place of where its eyes had been.

Audible gulps could be heard as it was described how there was tapping that could be heard from the glass case as visitors passed by. This set the Crusaders up to start shivering a little as they heard the rain begin tapping the window. They all reached for their snacks and drinks as they listened to more incidents that emerged around this doll spawned from Tartarus. The time Mandy’s lamb was found standing outside her case was creepy, but it didn’t hold a candle to the incident where staff opened the museum one morning to find all the exhibits had been opened overnight with a number of them appearing to have been thrown across the room. Mandy’s display case was the only that had gone untouched. The way the narrator compared the scene to the aftermath of a tantrum is what most got the girls’s attention.

“What’s got these dolls so sore ta begin with?”

Sweetie replied to her farm girl pal with, “I don’t know. I want to say that they’re upset that they’re stuck as a museum piece. But if they don’t want to be there, then why did they scare their owners away and why don’t they just leave?”

They were surprisingly unprepared for the answer despite the directions all signs were pointing to.

It was at this point that the staff decided the time had come to invite a medium assess the toy, to which the museum’s curator approved without a second thought. After conducting a psychic reading of the doll, the one they had hired deduced that Mandy used to belong to a little girl. Unfortunately, when the owner died at a young age, the child’s spirit transferred into the doll she had been holding at the time she died. It was speculated that all of the doll’s actions were that of kid in search of excitement and attention. Before the Crusaders had the chance their sympathy for the poor girl’s spirit, they narrator then announced that, when asked, the woman who donated the doll to the museum had a very different tale to tell.

“Wait, does this mean they’re about to need a refund from that psychic they hired?”

“They totally got scammed!”, Sweetie grimaced as she echoed out loud exactly what Scootaloo had been thinking.

“Now ah have ta wonder if Pinkie’s spazzy, psychic precog-whatever powers coulda helped in a situation like this?”

In Apple Bloom’s eyes, if the Pinkie Sense could tell when something bad is about to happen, who’s to say it can’t do anything else, like talk to the dead or see in the past?

“Actually, maybe we could tell Wind Trot ta try pursuin’ a cutie mark in fortune tellin’. See where that leads her.”

Sure, it was out of the box, but it was still worth a shot.

As the donor’s story began to be told, the screen transitioned to an illustration of her silhouetted form standing at the bottom step of her basement stairs. While it was explained how it all started when she came downstairs to investigate the inexplicable sounds of a crying baby she heard down there, that exact sound began playing from the orb; all the while, the image slowly panned down to reveal Mandy the doll lying in the middle of the cellar floor. Her first instinct was to dispose of it, but no matter what method she tried, the crying would come back and the doll would be found back right where she first discovered it. If Sweetie had merely wondered if she should feel bad for Robert, she definitely felt bad for Mandy. Being tossed away and rejected like that must have stung.

At her wit’s end, the owner offered the toy to the museum, in the hopes it would satiate its desire for attention through the regular human contact the staff and visitors could give it.

“Then again, if they’re right, maybe Mandy’s now the happiest she’s been since death?”

However, Mandy seems to have the same aversion to being photographed as Robert, even cameras and devices often unexpectedly malfunction in a similar fashion.

“Hold on, I thought this doll’s whole deal was that it wanted attention. How can anypony be an attention hog that also hates getting their picture taken?”, Scootaloo questioned.

This primed her be even more skeptical when she was told that the museum that owns Mandy insists to this day that the doll isn’t evil at all, reiterating that it was merely childish and sometimes prone to tantrum. Still, she didn’t linger on it and instead just took some swigs from her soda bottle as the story cut away to a simple image of a wooden floor.

“Ah’m startin’ ta think it might be a good thing that all those fantasies ah used ta have of my toys comin’ ta life and bein’ my friends never came true.”, Apple Bloom confessed. “Ah would hate ta find out my favorite stuffed animals were real nasty pieces of work once ya got ta know ‘em.”

Sweetie privately shook her head.

“My stuffed toys would never be like that. They’ve learned a lot of good things with me as their friend, right?”

Of course, not all haunted dolls reside in museums as the narrator rightfully pointed out. One such example was presumably the final doll from the beginning. This one was still in the possession of its family/owners in Queensland, Australia. Though its origins are also not entirely known (much like Mandy), what could be said for certain was that it was discovered in the 1970’s by two brothers while they were exploring an abandoned house in the suburbs of “Wagga Wagga”.

Every filly either snickered or tittered at that name; for the first time in her life, Scootaloo actually wanted to take a crack at making a dad joke, if only she could think of one right now.

“All I know is that a ‘Wocka Wocka’ at the end would be a real cherry on top!”

As the pair had made their way through the shattered husk of the premises, the younger of the two had suddenly cried out in terror. The Crusaders’ moment of joviality was cut short when it was shown what scared the younger brother so much. What appeared to be a human face stared up at them through a gap in the floorboards. Some of the girls might have bit their lip in fearful anticipation if it weren’t for the reveal in the very next sentence that the boys had pealed back the floorboards to reveal a crudely carved wooden doll dressed in boy’s clothing. The brothers rationalized that since the owner decided to abandon this doll with the rest of the house, nobody would mind if they took it home with them.

“Nnnope!”, Scootaloo uttered as a gut reaction. “This is what I mean when I say I got good survival instincts, you’d never see me make a rookie mistake like that.”

The other two rolled their eyes, of course; for as long as they’d known this pegasus, she’s been the type to do dumber stuff than this just so she wouldn’t look like a fraidy-cat.

The doll was given the name “Letta Me Outta Here”, or Letta for short.

Apple Bloom grimaced, “Oh boy. It’s probably gonna kill them just for that name alone.”

The first strange incident attached to this doll was the period of time where it strangely disappeared. It wouldn’t reappear until Kerry Walton, the older brother, found it while he was cleaning out the attic of his home in Warwick. The moment he brought the doll back down from the attic has been marked as the point where its alleged supernatural powers began to manifest. As the next illustration gave a more complete look at Letta and its sinister smirk, the narrator described how the family dogs always had to be removed from whatever room the doll was in because of how agitated they became in its presence. On numerous occasions, the doll would be found in a different position than when it had been left, even though nobody was awake to fiddle with it. There was also a series of scuff marks that Kerry found around the house turned out to be a match for the soles on Letta’s shoes.

When he took the doll to a toy expert, it was deduced that it was of European origin. The expert speculated that it was hand-carved by gypsies and even suggested that the thick black hair woven into the top of its head was real.

“Ewww!”

Sweetie’s disgust would go unacknowledged by the other two. Scootaloo was too busy lamenting how she suddenly felt out of the loop; like, what are gypsies? Apple Bloom for her part was couldn’t help but notice how quickly this was sounding like voodoo magic. Were these “gypsies” actually the human world versions of Zebra shamans?

They wouldn’t get to dwell on this much longer though as Walton returned home with Letta that night. He parked his car in the driveway and recoiled in horror when he noticed the doll outside of the sack he put it in, laying on the rear seat of the car. However, it wasn’t until his children came to him crying and screaming about how Letta threatened to kill them in their dreams that Walton decided to call for a spiritualist. This left dispelled doubt in the the filly’s minds, Letta was the scariest doll by far.

According to the medium he hired, Letta was possessed by the spirit of a young boy who drowned many years before. Going off this information, Walton assumed that the toy was not malicious or evil, but merely lonely.

“I feel like these dolls are getting too much benefit of the doubt.”, Scootaloo said before finishing her soda-pop.

Sweetie was about to take a hooful’s worth of chips from her magic aura when she added, “I could understand with the last two, but this one threatened to kill his kids. How does loneliness explain that?”

“Ah thought we learned from Diamond Tiara that bad circumstances can bring out the worst in anypony?”

“Yeah, well… Diamond and Silver Spoon never threatened our lives!”, Scootaloo hastily countered her frowning farmer friend.

Ever since Walton sold his story to the local media, the supernatural occurrences have mostly ceased. Only manifesting when visitors come to have a look at the doll. Interviewers who’ve sat down with Walton to ask about Letta’s story reported incidents such as feeling the doll adjust itself into a more comfortable position while sitting on their laps. Or a clock being violently flung off the wall and smashing on the floor after one of them asked about the boy’s inhabiting the toy.

With Letta’s story wrapped up, the narrator finally got to his familiar rhetorical spiel. He offered the many similarities between these cases as possible evidence that supernatural possession of inanimate objects might be possible. Though, psychologists beg to differ; the alternative theory they offer can be traced back centuries all through the evolution of children’s toys.

“So, there’s psychologists that get to study toys as their specialty? I wish we tried that before we got our cutiemarks!”, Sweetie said, even though she obviously wasn’t dissatisfied with the cutie mark she has now.

“It would’ve turned out to be boring somehow. I know it.”, Scootaloo gruffed. Though if she were being honest, she was just jealous she didn’t come up with that idea herself.

While the oldest dolls that could be found from the 17th and 18th centuries possessed angelic and exaggerated human features, later dolls would be designed to look more and more realistic overtime. While the end result is closer in appearance to an actual than what they used, it’s still noticeably not quite perfect. Consequently, such dolls come across as unnerving due to their subtle differences to a genuine human child. This mean that while people do accept these fake humans into their homes, their uncanny appearance subconsciously forces those same people to be instinctively wary of them. This can lead to them misinterpreting situations and mistakenly attributing to them to the dolls if they happen to be nearby, instead of just recognizing these as coincidences.

This got mixed reactions from the trio. Apple Bloom felt like this wasn’t a sufficient explanation as a pony with some personal experience with voodoo and the supernatural. Sweetie Belle was getting over her “believer” phase and was now looking at these stories with a bit more skepticism. Scootaloo wanted to accept that explanation wholeheartedly, but the idea that paranoia could play that level of tricks on one’s mind was proving too big of a pill for her to swallow right now. While the narrator continued, Scootaloo snapped out of her thoughts when she noticed one of the dolls, Letta, had turned its head to look straight at her and her friends. Actually, Mandy also seemed to be staring right at her too. Was she always looking in her direction? This happened again as the narrator was giving his closing line, with Robert adjusting himself in his seat to look straight at her with its dead, beady eyes while the story faded to a close.

Frustrated yet creeped out beyond belief, she almost blurted out, “Stop screwing with me!”

“Somepony rattled?”

Scootaloo turned to face Apple Bloom, tensing up as she was confronted with her friend’s smug expression.

“N-no, I was just-“, she stammered out her reply before taking a moment to pause. A smirk growing more prominent on her face with each word she said next. “Just feeling sorry for your brother.”

“Huh?”

“I’m just thinking about how devastating it’d be for him to see this.”, she snickered. “Might never look at lil’ Smartypants the same way again.”

While she watched her friend humorously choke on her words and tinge of pink appear on her cheeks, Sweetie asked, “Bloom, does Big Mac really still have that doll?”

She assumed that the grown stallion would have been over that toy after he got together with Sugar Belle.

“He’s just keepin’ that thing around just so he can give it ta his kid when they’re born.”, the farm filly explained.

Scootaloo let out a “pfft” as she stepped out of her chair, “I saw him tucking that thing into bed last week!”

“Aw, bite me!”, the farm filly said as she hopped out of her seat. “Let’s just put the crystal ball back up on the shelf before Ms. Rarity finds out.

Without anymore banter, they all trotted out of the kitchen for the guest room, orb following in tow within Sweetie’s magical grasp; meanwhile, Rarity continued her project up in her room, none the wiser that the fillies downstairs had decided to slack off for a moment with the device she hadn’t even permitted them to use yet.

Two O’Clock, Thursday Morning

The door to Sweetie’s room slowly creaked open, disturbing the boutique’s silence for a brief moment before pausing its movement. It continued on like this, opening slightly more and more with pauses in between each and every movement. The pegasus behind the door kept checking to see if the shrill creaking sounds had disturbed her roommates’ slumber. Once the door was barely wide enough, Scootaloo squeezed her way through, as mindful of her hoofsteps as she was of the door’s noises. She dare not reach for a light, instead trusting that her eyes had sufficiently adjusted to the blackness as she made her for the stairs.

Tonight’s bedtime had been a rough one for her, to say the least. It was bad enough trying to get to sleep in the first place when every side of the room had at least one of Sweetie’s dolls looking in her direction; the last thing she needed with stories about haunted toys still fresh in her mind. She couldn’t even find solace once she’d started dreaming, either. As she cautiously went down the steps, Scootaloo’s mind kept fixating on the last moment of her nightmare before she woke up. That overgrown moth dangling her Aunt Holiday over a pit filled with dolls of all shapes, sizes and materials, none of which were cute or cuddly in the slightest. The pegasus filly felt like she was really there, watching helplessly when that monster dropped her aunt into the pit and the middle-aged mare desperately cried out for help as those dolls piled onto her and pulled her underneath. Try as she might, the way her sleeping bag now seemed to smother and restrain her just wouldn’t allow her to get the rest she fruitlessly craved.

Luckily, she knew exactly what would cheer her up at a time like this. The filly pulled herself out of the fridge with a milk carton, just the right thing to go with the cookies she took out of the kitchen pantry. She wasn’t sure if these store-bought goodies would do the trick quite as well as Aunt Lofty’s homemade chocolate chip, but it was worth a shot. Scootaloo let loose a deep sigh after downing her first cookie with some milk. It was right then she realized that she hadn’t heard any rain or wind outside. A clear night sky could make for a neat view right now.

The filly then stepped up to the window to get a look at the stars, only to be met with the disappointing sight of a pitch black, clouded sky.

“Just my luck.”

She lowered her line of sight away from the sky’s direction, settling on a tree just outside the boutique. She was really just looking for something to zone out on as there wasn’t anything eye-catching about it… at first. Scootaloo didn’t notice it initially, but there was some movement going on in the branches. And it had finally snapped her out of her sleep-deprived stupor. The only source of illumination she had was the fridge she left open and there was no light source outside to speak of. Yet, she swore that she was seeing some animal fidgeting in the foliage. Focusing her eyes a little harder, Scootaloo could actually make out one distinct feature on this thing.

Wings. Big ones.

Whether it was getting ready for take off or just taking a stretch, this creature was still showing off an impressive wingspan. It may have been too far away for her to be able tell exactly how big it is, but she was sure that it looked way too big to be an average birdie. She was even willing to say its wingspan looks closer to a grown pegasus than any bird she’s seen. The filly stood there stone-still as she witnessed the thing retract its wings and presumably settle in and make itself comfortable. She couldn’t help but keep watching this creature for a little longer just to see what it might do next. Oddly, Scootaloo was anticipating and dreading the chance that it might turn around. She wasn’t sure if she was just scared of finding out what it looks like or it was a different fear entirely.

“Why does it feel like something’s telling me I don’t wanna find out what happens if it turns around and sees me?”

Her attention was so preoccupied with what she was seeing out there, that she was unable to notice another presence before it made physical contact with her. Out of nowhere, the feeling of three taps upon her shoulder sent a jolt of panic coursing through her spine like an electrical current. She straightened up and the yelp she let loose was cut short with a hoof to her mouth, stifling the noise. Scootaloo spun around into a vicious back hoof, but narrowly missed and ended up hitting nothing but air.

“Wha-“

She heard somepony cry out behind her.

“Shucks, Scoots! Ya want my head wound ta open back up!?”

That accent was unmistakable, but the second she saw Apple Bloom standing right in front of her is when it became undeniable.

“Shhh!”

The one who made the “shush” quickly stepped into view from behind the doorway, revealing herself to be Sweetie Belle. She then walked into the kitchen with her horn lighting the way for her, an illumination spell. Scootaloo could finally see both of her friends’ dazed and irritated expressions.

“Are you two trying to wake my sister up?”, she whispered, before turning her light to the counter where she spotted the milk carton and cookie pack sitting out. “Please tell me you didn’t drink straight from the carton.”

Awkwardly, Scootaloo wiped her mouth of any crumbs as she averted from Sweetie’s gaze, “Uhh, no.”

“Can’t sleep?”, Apple Bloom asked through a yawn,

“Why else would I be down here?”, she asked before following up with another question. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Nah. Ah couldn’t get enough winks of sleep either, woke up from a nightmare and accidentally woke Sweetie up too.”

“We might have gone back to sleep if we hadn’t noticed you were gone.”, the unicorn added.

Scootaloo sighed, “You want to join me for cookies?”

“Sounds swell.”, Apple Bloom answered.

As though a lightbulb popped over her head, Sweetie halted her initial and instead said, “Wait, let me get something first!”

While the other two sat at the table munching away at their snacks, Sweetie Belle eventually came back from the guest room with a very familiar orb. This got her some surprised looks from both her friends.

“Woah, yer not actually sayin’ ya wanna watch another story at this hour?”

“Seriously, why do you keep looking for more chances to watch these?”

A part of Sweetie wanted to say “tis the season”, but there was another reason why she brought out the story ball this time.

“Just hear me out.”, she started. “I think a story might actually be what we need right now.”

Apple Bloom quirked an eyebrow, “Come again?”

Scootaloo was ready to ask Sweetie if she realized that the title “Bedtime Stories” was tongue-in-cheek, but the unicorn spoke first.

“You know any ponies that have one of those voices that somehow just lull you into sleep?”

“Umm, Miss Tally?”

Despite what she just said, Scootaloo actually doubted her math teacher’s voice was the reason she kept falling asleep in her classes.

“Well, I don’t know about you girls but, for me, that narrator guy has one of those voices.”, Sweetie explained, before taking a moment to yawn. “I could see myself falling asleep if we have this guy set as background noise.”

Even if there hadn’t been merit to what she was saying, neither Scootaloo or Apple Bloom had the energy to argue against it right now.

The latter let out a groan, “Alright. If ya want this ta work though, ya got ta find the most boring lookin’ story in that entire list.”

With those instructions made crystal clear to her, Sweetie immediately set the crystal ball onto the table and scrolled through the list until she finally settled on a seemingly perfect one.

Eleven

As unassuming as this title was, if anypony had actually took notice of it’s thumbnail, they’d have realized what they were truly in for; and they wouldn’t have liked it.

Author's Note

Couldn’t skip out on the eeriest time of year, so here’s a late Halloween present for you all! I think one regret when I look back on this chapter is that I had them watch in the kitchen instead of in Rarity’s guest room or Sweetie’s bedroom like usual. Had I gone that direction, I probably would have a doll(s) in the room with them to add to the tension. There could’ve been a great running gag where they keep getting paranoid that the doll is watching and they repeatedly check over their shoulders to see if the doll had turned its head toward them. Make their minds play tricks on them in a very clear way.
Oh well. You guys probably know that I’m looking forward to the next chapter if you were here for the first poll I did. See you until then. :pinkiehappy:
P.S. Does anyone else think the reason they didn’t do Annabelle was because they didn’t want to risk copyright by Hasbro?

Eleven

While her friends prepared the story, Scootaloo stole one last glance out the window. She subtly let loose a breath she’d been holding since she’d remembered the creature she saw lurking in the tree earlier, now nowhere to be seen. The filly couldn’t help but wonder if that should be taken as a good sign or a bad one.

“Stop being dumb, it’s not him!”

The story opened on an illustration of a family of eleven. It consisted of two adult men, two younger boys and seven grown up women, including one elderly lady. When Scootaloo looked at the family, she took note of how some of the outfits the women were wearing reminded her of photos she’s seen of friends her parents have made in Shire Lanka. She tuned in to the narrator’s words just in time to find out that this family had died under mysterious circumstances, which shook the town of Burari to its core. Hearing this did the opposite of what the fillies hoped, they’d become even more wide awake than when they’d come down here.

“You mean, every one of them was killed?”, Sweetie asked with disbelief radiating from her voice.

The same could be said for Apple Bloom’s tone, “Why-How in tarnation did somepony kill a family that big and somehow not get caught?”

The rattled trio of fillies wouldn’t have much longer to contemplate this. The narrator wrapped up his introduction by clarifying that this was a very recent and still ongoing case in which they would try to make sense of the events leading up to the family’s demise. Waiting for the opening they’d grown used to, the girls were surprised to see that opening had been entirely skipped over. Instead, all they got was the title card accompanied by suspenseful music, a subtle heartbeat that gradually grew louder and even the sound of an eerie breeze that they initially thought was coming from outside. Having no clue what to make of the heavy atmosphere this story was creating, they idly sat in silence and brushed off the weight of the tale.

“Nothing we probably can’t handle at this point.”, Sweetie thought to herself.

The story opened on an (unusually) cloudy day where mustachioed man stood in front of an open gate at the edge of “Jagatpur Park”, checking his wristwatch. The man, named Gurcharan Singh, had been waiting for his friend, Lalit Chundawat, so that they can begin their routine of strolling through the park together. He’d stood there for over half an hour while the morning slowly passed by until finally a rain shower came, though sooner than what had been broadcasted. Yet, Singh’s friend was still nowhere to be seen by 6:57 a.m.

Scootaloo felt her jaw drop ever so slightly, “6:57 is considered late? And they said this guy was waiting for how long?”

“At least half an hour.”, Sweetie Belle answered. “And he probably woke up half an hour before that. I don’t understand why old people choose to be such early birds.”

Apple Bloom took a bite out of another cookie as she grew self-conscious of how life on the farm has probably made her the only kid in town who gets out of the bed as early as the adults in this story.

Gurcharan waited a little longer until 7:05 a.m. in which he took the increasingly heavy rainfall as his cue to head home. He figured that he could pay his friend a visit to his place later that evening, maybe confirm whether he was feeling under the weather or was too busy that morning to take their usual walk. All these thoughts were coursing through his mind while he strolled down the streets of Burari. Then he paused when he noticed Lalit’s grocery store across the street, still closed even though he’d always seen it opened promptly at six every morning since he’d known Lalit. Seeing this as a sign that something might be wrong, Gurcharan immediately began heading towards the Chundawat home. Both he and the Crusaders tried their best to stifle the pits forming in their stomachs.

While the girls steeled their nerves, Gurcharan knocked on his friend’s front door twice only to be met with no response. He then tried the door handle, and to his surprise it actually opened. The fillies’ spirits rapidly started dropping as the narrator went into detail about how the Chundawat household was usually very lively and echoing with the sounds of conversation, laughter and all sorts of activity. Even though they all knew he was going to say the house was now eerily quiet, that didn’t lessen the dread that detail brought once the narrator shared it. None of them felt a shiver go through their spines like Gurcharan did, but Apple Bloom sure let out a very audible gulp.

Scootaloo actually started to get frustrated with how much the tension was getting to her; it didn’t help when she had to listen to the narrator tell them how even a middle-aged adult like Gurcharan whose faced loss, hardships and things a person can never un-see, wasn’t prepared for what he’d see on the other side of that doorway.

“We get it! You don’t think we can handle this? Bring it on!”

Almost as if answering her dare, the orb then projected the most sickening thing they’ve ever witnessed: multiple people, cloths wrapped around their faces, dangling from the ceiling by ropes tied tightly around their necks which bent in unnatural ways.

The collective gasp the entire group let loose was so audible that under normal circumstances they’d be worried that they’d almost awoken Rarity. But they were too wrapped up in what in front of them that they didn’t even notice how loud they were. Scootaloo covered her muzzle which hung wide open, as if her words had brought this upon them even though those words had never actually left her lips. Sweetie Belle immediately covered her eyes, positive that if she looked for any longer she’d start feeling sick to her stomach. Apple Bloom herself was starting to feel a little queasy and as much as she wanted to do exactly what her friend was doing, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the picture.

Instead, the farm filly wordlessly sat frozen in place, overwhelmed by the feelings coming over her. She’s been through life-threatening situations before, nearly got eaten by a chimera. And she knew that she wasn’t experiencing a paralysis that occurs whenever one’s brain is stuck between fight or flight. This was the crushing feeling of being a helpless bystander, seeing clearly that something’s gone wrong but you’re unable to do anything about it; you have no agency or ability to affect the world around you, all that you can do is watch. Apple Bloom became all too familiar with that feeling after experiencing it a couple times herself.

She shuddered as memories of being under Sombra’s control came back to her.

Apple Bloom stole glances at both of her friends. Scootaloo had put her hoof down and kept her mouth firmly closed, her eyes being the only remaining indicator of her lingering shock. Sweetie slowly uncovered her eyes, then let them fall back to her sides upon seeing that the story had shifted to a new illustration; behind the police tape in the foreground, officers now stood outside the Chundawat home as they kept back curious onlookers who had flooded the streets to get a look at the crime scene. Apple Bloom started wondering if they should turn off the crystal ball and cut their losses by this point. However, it didn’t look like either of her friends were going to speak up. Were they waiting for her to make the call?

Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard the narrator share more details about the case. It was initially suspected that this was the end result of a robbery gone wrong, but this was soon dismissed upon discovering that no valuables had been looted from the premises or even from the victim’s bodies.

“W-why were they killed then?”, Scootaloo stammered out.

Though they had some reasons not to rule out foul play, the police were beginning to think they were dealing with a mass suicide.

Every filly felt their jaws drop for the second time that evening. Before the other two gathered their wits though, they heard their friend speak up.

“Mule shit!”, Apple Bloom spitefully hissed out without even thinking; she wasn’t sure why.

It was then that the video suddenly paused. The farmer filly noticed the pen levitating in her friend’s magical grasp.

“Okay. I don’t think I can take anymore of this.”, said Sweetie Belle.

“Me neither.”, Scootaloo agreed. “I signed up for a story that could make me go to bed, not families killing themselves.”

Apple Bloom held back the urge to correct her friend and remind her that it was actually a mass murder.

“You know what? Why don’t we just put the story about that miracle spirit lady back on again?”, Sweetie suggested. “That’s what we probably should’ve done anyway.”

“Wait!”

Both sets of eyes turned to Apple Bloom in response to what she blurted out.

“Um…”, she paused for a second as she considered her next words. “Look, y’all can go upstairs ta bed if ya want, but please let me finish this story.”

“Woah, woah, woah.”, Scootaloo interjected whilst waving her hooves in front of her. “Why do you of all ponies wanna keep watching nightmare fuel like this?”

“Listen, seein’ this has created a buncha questions buzzin’ around in my head that’ll probably keep me up at night anyway.”, she explained. “This story is gonna be in the back of my head naggin’ away at my thoughts unless ah get some sorta closure. So, please let me finish this for my sake.”

Taking in their friend’s pleas, it took one exchange of looks between them for Sweetie and Scootaloo to realize what they were going to do.

Sweetie Belle sighed, “Look Apple Bloom, we understand that this really means a lot to you right now. But please…”

Apple Bloom felt Scootaloo’s wing wrap around her shoulder as she heard Sweetie’s next words, “Don’t force yourself to watch this alone.”

The farmer filly could not and would not contain the smile that was forming across her muzzle and proceeded to return her friends’ affection with a group.

With the understanding that they were all in too deep by this point, the Crusaders allowed themselves to calm down and continued their latest “bedtime story”.

They listened closely as it began listing off supposed signs of a third party being involved in their deaths. Each victim had their hands tied behind their backs. Their heads were wrapped in a material that was cut from the same cloth. They were also blindfolded, their mouths were taped shut and their ears were plugged with cotton wool.

The next detail about the family’s grandmother being found strangled in the other room disturbed everypony watching, but Apple Bloom also couldn’t help but feel her anger towards the unidentified murderer grow with every description.

“This sicko is lucky he never met Granny Smith when she was still around. She’d have made ‘em real sorry for ever tryin’ anythin’ with her.”

Another point was how the kitchen was found with ingredients and recipes laid out as well as places having been set for breakfast. Something entirely pointless if the family really was planning suicide that day.

Apple Bloom nodded, “Applejack, Big Mac and Granny Smith never bother settin’ up the table if they know we ain’t got time ta eat.”

Her convictions would only feel more validated when the Chundawat’s friends and relatives have insisted that the family was very happy and well-off and wasn’t experiencing any troubles that would prompt a suicide.

“Hmm. I guess, but I also get the feeling that there’s more to it than they’re letting on.”

Apple Bloom snapped her head to Sweetie Belle’s direction, “What do ya mean?”

The unicorn shrugged, “Well, we’re still pretty early in the story. So, there’s got to be something that they haven’t told us about yet. Maybe even something that their friends and family don’t know.”

Her expression grew more indignant as she responded.

“So yer sayin’ that if somethin’ like this happened to me and my family, and police said it was all suicide, y’all would believe ‘em?”

“But-wait a minute that’s not what I said-“

“Of course ya didn’t say that, ya never would.”, Apple Bloom interrupted. “And ah wouldn’t either, cause y’all are my friend. Friends and family know ya better than anypony else. And ah know y’all would do right by me just like ah would for you!”

When her friend took a bit too long to reply, the farm filly prodded one last time.

“Right?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Thought so!”, she concluded, crossing her forelegs in front of her chest as she turned her attention back to the orb.

Scootaloo looked on in surprise at how differently Apple Bloom was acting in comparison to when they watched the Cindy James episode together.

“Huh. The horseshoe really is on the other hoof this time.”

Despite how compelling these points sounded, it had to be noted that police uncovered security footage taken near the residence which contradicted all these arguments. Apple Bloom began to feel her conviction deflate in response to this news. It only got worse when the video’s contents were described as showing the family taking ropes and stools into their house on the night before their death.

“Uh…”

Seeing her friend’s morale get crushed ensured that Sweetie wouldn’t be careless enough to utter the first thing that came to her mind, “Hate to say I told you so.”

“So, I wonder why they needed the stools?”, Sweetie Belle she ventured as cautiously as she could. “I mean, they probably should have already had chairs in the house. You know?”

Thankfully, Scootaloo picked up the conversation before Sweetie could fumble it even further.

“Who knows? Maybe their chairs were all just old or broken?”, she suggested “Everypony has to go furniture shopping once in a while, right?”

“Ah guess that’s true.”, Apple Bloom softly agreed as her thoughts started picking their pace back up again. “Actually, who’s ta say the killer ain’t forced ‘em ta get all that stuff? Ya know, take ‘em hostage and have them do stuff ta make the killin’ easier?”

As always though, the orb had no regard for the fillies’ input as it continued citing more pieces of evidence. Further investigation uncovered eleven diaries which had been kept by the family members over the course of many years. These journals proved to be invaluable sources for understanding what happened that fateful day. Especially the one that belonged to Lalit Chundawat.

Apple Bloom’s ears perked up at that name.

“Hang on, ain’t he the friend that guy was tryin’ ta meet up with in the beginning?”

“Yeah, he was the one who owned that grocery store too, I think.”, Scootaloo answered. “Wait, does that also make him the one who’s in charge of the family?”

The notes contained within these journals would reveal a side to this seemingly normal family that was completely unknown to the rest of the community. Something that perhaps lead them into a disturbing descent into madness. Or at least, that’s what the diaries possibly indicate.

Sweetie Belle stifled the urge to let out a nervous gulp and asked, “What sort of dark secret do you think they’re talking about?”

She was only met with a shush from Apple Bloom as the narrator decided to start breaking down the Chundawat family and their history. The next illustration on screen depicted the three silhouettes of the Chundawat family; a mother and a father huddled close to their son as they stood in front of their future home back in 1989 after moving away from Rajasthan. After selling the large plot of land and grazing cattle he owned, the head of the family, Bhopal Singh, invested money in their new home in the small town of Burari which they now stood in front of. He and his wife, Narayani, had three sons named Bhuvnesh, Dinesh and Lalit, as well as two daughters named Pratibha and Sujata.

“How come I only see one kid with them in this picture?”, Scootaloo questioned.

Four of the children, having already grown up and with careers to focus on, stayed behind in Rajasthan while Bhopal used the rest of his capital to set up a business in selling plywood. This left Lalit as the only child to join his parents to their new home in Burari.

Apple Bloom felt sorry for Lalit; she knew moving away from her own siblings would be a massive adjustment for her, especially now. She also remembered granny telling her how badly homesickness hit her for the longest time when she founded Sweet Apple Acres. Even with the regular contact she had through letters, it was supposedly very difficult for her to adjust entirely for a while.

While Scootaloo began to tune out and look out the window, Sweetie couldn’t help but ask, “I know we all said we’re going to move out of Ponyville and build CMC headquarters elsewhere when we grow up, but… do you think we can really make it out there without our family’s help?”

Apple Bloom put a reassuring hoof on her friend’s shoulder, “So long as we stay Crusaders through thick ‘n thin, we’ll never have ta worry about nopony bein’ there ta help ya. Not with usaround.”

The two exchanged heartfelt smiles. Even though it’d be tough, having each other around would get them through anything. Just like how having Bloom’s Pa around helped granny keep it together when she was just starting out. And having her grandkids around helped the old mare keep it together when both Pa and Ma were no longer with her.

Thankfully, Lalit wouldn’t have to cope with his own separation for the rest of his life. By 1993, both Bhuvnesh and Pratibha had also moved into the family home in Burari. So, not only did Lalit have his some of his siblings back in his life, both of them also brought their own families along with them. Over the next ten years, there would be as many as twelve people living under the same roof. Not only did the Chundawat family grow in numbers, but in financial and social standing as well.

Scootaloo took her attention away from the window for a moment to think about how crowded that house sounded. To Apple Bloom however, this family was sounding more and more relatable with each second. Though, the positive comparisons halted momentarily with the description of Bhopal’s style of leadership as the family patriarch; despite being a good man, he was said to have a dictatorial level of control over his family. His word was law and he demanded absolute adhere ends to his wishes and instructions.

“Sounds like a real piece of work.”, Scootaloo commented.

“Applejack said she also saw Granny Smith as a tyrant when she was my age.”, Apple Bloom realized. “But we all know Granny was happy ta let Applejack take charge more once started growin’ up at least.”

With how much respect they regarded Bhopal, the family never questioned his authority. He used to say that the family’s success depended on him and in many ways that was true. This would be proven when Bhopal passed away unexpectedly and the family struggled to pick up the pieces in his absence. The family’s fortunes began to decline soon after this major upheaval.

Apple Bloom shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Why was this story constantly hitting so close to home for her? Sure, it hasn’t gotten too bad after Granny Smith died, financially speaking. Still, that didn’t keep her from noticing how stressed and on edge all the grown ups in her home were, constantly worrying what else the future had in store.

Though everyone was feeling the loss, it was arguably Lalit, Bhopal’s youngest, who was hit the hardest by the tragedy. On top of his father’s death, Lalit also had other personal issues, which had a negative impact on his quality of life.

“Is this the moment we find out he’s crazy?”, Scootaloo wondered aloud, drawing a disapproving glare from Apple Bloom.

Years before Bhopal’s death, Lalit once found himself working alone in his father’s plywood shop; it was on this day he found himself on the receiving end of a robbery. The thieves didn’t stop at just stealing all the money in the “till”. They also buried Lalit under a pile of plywood panels and then set fire to him. The cruelty being described left all three fillies taken aback. None of them even bothered asking themselves what in Equestria a “till” was.

“Is this family going to catch a break!?”, Sweetie Belle asked out of shock and pity.

Apple Bloom couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief, “What did Lalit ever do ta deserve this?”

In a meek attempt to offer an answer, Scootaloo shrugged her shoulders and weakly replied, “I guess, ‘no witnesses’, is how these robbers like to do things?”

Although he managed to escape relatively unscathed, Lalit became extremely withdrawn; more shocking was he even lost his voice as a result, never speaking a single word for many years afterward.

Once she picked her jaw off the floor, Scootaloo spoke up again.

“Hold on, that can actually happen?”

“A-ah dunno.”, the farm filly stuttered out. “Ah thought stuff like that only happened when magic spells or potions go wrong.”

“I think I heard somewhere that this can happen when someone goes through something really traumatic.”, Sweetie Belle offered as explanation.

After pondering what her friend just said, Scootaloo asked in a dead serious tone, “So, you’re telling me that if I scare someone too much, they could scream so loud they blow out their voice box forever?”

Initially unsure how to take that question, Sweetie then answered back, “Um, no. I’m pretty sure that’s not what they mean.”

However, Lalit’s behavior would shortly change after his father’s death. This came about while the family was taking part in a traditional ten-day long prayer known as Garuda Purana. Lalit was said to have suddenly burst out chanting along with everyone else, his first time speaking in over three years. This was great consolation to all the fillies watching, finally something to be happy about in this story.

Though, Scootaloo also couldn’t help but privately think to herself, “This is nice and all. But did they just say this ceremony lasts ten days? They have to allow breaks, right?”

After getting over their shock, the other family members were immediately overjoyed by what they were seeing and hearing, then began chanting in reply, “Father has returned!”

“Ah bet his poppa also woulda loved ta hear him singin’ again.”, Apple Bloom softly stated through a bittersweet smile.

Although the Crusaders were pleased to learn Lalit snapped out of whatever had kept him silent for all this time, the Chundawats believed there was something even more behind this. In their eyes, the spirit of Bhopal had come forth and was channeling himself through Lalit.

Sweetie Belle cringed slightly, “Wait, so they think their dad is possessing his son’s body? That doesn’t sound like something a dad would do.”

“Actually, this reminds me of something mom and dad told me about ponies in Shire Lanka once.”

All eyes fell on Scootaloo as she elaborated, “I think they said that ponies there don’t believe anyone truly stays dead, if that makes any sense? They just get ‘reborn’ into another body after their old one dies, or something like that.”

“So, ya think these humans in Delhi or whatever also believe that?”

For an answer, Apple Bloom only got a shrug followed by, “I dunno.”

It was after this moment during the Garuda Purana that people in the community would notice changes to the family’s dynamic, and even their mental and psychological state. For example, Lalit began telling customers in his shop that his father had appeared to him in a dream and asked him to perform an act of worship called a puja. As the narrator elaborated on what a puja was and briefly explained the many ways it could be performed, the trio of fillies stared at the accompanying illustration of Lalit. He peacefully sat crisscrossed with his eyes closed underneath a tree, looking as though he was meditating. They guessed that this was supposed to be Lalit performing one of these puja’s in honor of his father, but they honestly didn’t know. At the very least, the narrator did confirm that what they were seeing was some kind of prayer, with Lalit said to be witnessed praying in front of trees and feeding animals.

“Hmm.”

Sweetie Belle turned her attention to her friend.

“Something on your mind?”

“Ah was just thinkin’, wouldn’t a family be feelin’ better if they could keep in touch with dead loved ones?”, Apple Bloom pontificated. “Ah feel like if Lalit got better and the rest of the family’s situation got better thanks ta Bhopal livin’ on through his son, then why would they need ta… end it all?”

“I mean, that’s assuming that their dad really is talking through his son. Lalit could totally just be crazy.”, Scootaloo reminded them.

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow, “Weren’t you the one who was just talking about rebirth a second ago?”

“Hey, I didn’t say I believe in that.”

“Aw, come off it! Y’all are just sayin’ that cause yer scared of the idea of talkin’ ta ghosts.”

As she turned back to the screen, Apple Bloom paid no attention to Scootaloo pulling down her eyelid and sticking her tongue out at her.

Whilst the local community saw very little of what went on inside their home, the Chundawat household became the platform for the family’s spiritual development. They would gather together for thirty minutes of prayer every morning and evening. Once Lalit became head of the household, he would convince his family that he was the reincarnation of his father and that he was their path to salvation. Even his leadership style started to resemble Bhopal’s, insisting that his control and authority over the family must be absolute and never be challenged. The family was ordered to keep their practices secret, even from extended relatives.

All three fillies slowly blinked, struggling to find the right words in the face of how rapidly this situation was taking a turn; Apple Bloom shook her head rapidly as if to clear it of doubt.

“Alright, that is a mite weird, ah’ll admit it. But, it ain’t proof of any mass suicide.”

“You remember when you asked me how I would react if I was told you and your family all killed themselves?”

The farm filly’s ears lowered slightly in the face of Sweetie Belle’s highly abrupt question.

“Y-yeah?”

“Well, if you noticed us and our families acting weird like the Chundawats, wouldn’t you think something was wrong with us?”

The story continued while Apple Bloom took a moment to muster a response. Despite friends and family noticing them becoming increasingly introverted and withdrawn, the Chundawat household’s financial situation had improved. They even expanded into two new sources of income in addition to the plywood shop, those being a grocery store and a new commercial business that was still in the process of being set up. Lalit would obviously credit this success to his father’s spirit giving him instructions.

Her ears perked back up.

“Well, how do y’all explain the fact they had an awful lot ta look forward to for people supposedly achin’ ta kill themselves?”

“Ummm. Hate to break this to you, but that’s not proof of anything either.”

Apple Bloom swiftly turned to Scootaloo and asked, “What do ya mean?”

Sheepishly rubbing the back of her head, Scootaloo explained, “One time I asked Rainbow Dash why this stallion whose picture was in the Wonderbolts Hall of Fame had such a shorter career than everypony else pictured there.”

Putting her hoof down, she continued, “She told me he killed himself. Nopony understood why he did it, even though he was so successful and seemed to have a lot of good things coming his way.”

Apple Bloom wanted to interrupt, but did not speak up until Scootaloo concluded by saying, “I guess you could say success doesn’t always mean happiness.”

“But-“

All of the fillies were only paying half attention to the story as Apple Bloom struggled to retort. All the narrator’s descriptions of the contents of the family’s journals were becoming mere background noise to her as she lightly stomped her hoof on the chair.

“But that Wonderbolt ain’t killed his family too, right?”

Scootaloo couldn’t help but flinch as she witnessed her friend more combative.

“Well… no.”

“Damn right, he didn’t! Cause nopony does that ta their own family!”

Before the conversation could continue, Sweetie interjected.

“Shh! Listen!”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were about to snap back at Sweetie for interrupting, when something the narrator said recaptured their attention. Having finally snapped out of the back and forth, they managed to take notice when it was said that police discovered journal entries mentioning some kind of strange ritual. A ritual that was supposed to be performed on June 30th, 2018, almost eleven years to the day after Bhopal Singh had passed away. As much as Apple Bloom wanted to believe that journal entry wasn’t what it sounded like, her faith would be whittled away with each successive detail revealed.

One supposed diary entry by Lalit talked about his belief that the human body is temporary and how fear can be overcome by closing one’s eyes and mouth. The girls struggled to grapple with and make sense of this view of life espoused by Lalit. But they were given no time to contemplate this as more shocking parallels kept being shared. Another excerpt described how hands and legs were to be tied as well as how grandma was to lie down in a separate room. More and more of these details were lining up with the state that the bodies were found in, as the narrator so helpfully pointed out.

Apple Bloom failed to find the right response, leaving her to sit helplessly and gawk at the cracks she could see forming in her argument.

“But… family don’t do that ta family!”

She would’ve repeated this mantra out loud, but she could feel a lump forming in her throat which made speaking up feel fruitless at the moment. As the narrator kept the story going, Apple Bloom decided it was best to just listen quietly in hopes of getting some kind of counter evidence. She needed at least one moment of solace before this wrapped up.

Over a graph of their family tree, the narrator quickly recapped all eleven of the family members/victims as a way to illustrate a very important question. How did Lalit manage to convince everyone to resort to such drastic action? It turns out that the answer could be found in a phenomenon that the trio of fillies became familiar with after the Fatima story, Shared Psychotic Disorder. There was precedent for someone with delusions being able to pass those delusions on to others, most commonly in cults. As long as a leader is charismatic and convincing enough, they can convince their followers to place absolute trust in them beyond reason. One infamous example the narrator named was the “Jonestown Massacre of 1978”.

Scootaloo spoke up through a frown, “You know, if you can’t fully, totally trust your family, then who?”

Years of their big sisters passing down all they’ve learned about friendship, reinforcing the idea that your closest friends and family can always be counted upon, has left them unprepared to hear something like this. The thought that not only could you not count on your family, but they can be the ones most capable of hurting you was existentially threatening. It was like being told that there won’t be a princess who can raise the sun anymore. The concept of her sister leading her to death permeated the back of Apple Bloom’s mind for much of this story and she could feel it coming to the forefront of her thoughts; she rubbed her tummy to ease the know she could feel in her gut.

Luckily, the narrator gave her something to distract from the onset of nausea. Further scrutiny of the diaries revealed notes from other family members that didn’t add up with the mass suicide angle. These notes talked about plans they had set up days, even weeks in advance. Pratibha’s daughter Priyanka was even engaged to be married at the end of the year and she even spoke of this in her own diary. Once again, it was brought up how those who knew the Chundawats got the impression that they were a family who were still looking forward to a tomorrow. This was backed up by their behavior leading up to their deaths.

The girls allowed themselves a smile as they were told of how the day prior, Priyanka had given one of her friends an invitation to her wedding and had given her clothes to be washed. The teens in the household had planned a cricket match for the following day. Several of the adults had arranged meetings and made other plans over the phone. As pleasant as it was to imagine the Chundawats as they were before death, these details were also starting to breed frustration.

“Ugh, none of this adds up!”, Apple Bloom griped. “Ah really wanna just accept this as ultimate proof, but with those diaries… ah dunno what ta think anymore.”

Not knowing what to do with her hooves, Sweetie Belle ran one of them through her mane, “If they really did kill themselves, it’s starting to feel that choice was made really abruptly.”

“Abruptly?”

“As in, it happened before anyone was expecting it to.”, she quickly answered Scootaloo.

Indeed, even the narrator began to wonder if the rest of the family even knew they were going to die. He raised the possibility that this was all a spiritual or religious ritual gone horribly wrong. This would have been a compelling alternative for the trio of fillies watching if it weren’t for the fact that the grandma had been found strangled in the other room. Another inconsistency was the fact that the feet of the two youngest members, Dhruv and Shivam, were touching the floor. This indicated that those two might not have died from the hanging, but were killed or even tranquilized beforehand with their bodies being hung up afterward.

“Wait, so what does that mean? That someone else really did it?”, Apple Bloom wondered.

Everypony sure hoped that’s what it meant. Instead, it was suggested that most of the family was expecting to survive the ritual, but one or even two or three of them must have intended for them all to end their lives. That would make this a case of mass murder, with Lalit as the prime suspect. The girls didn’t know what to say to that either. Apple Bloom tried looking deep into the eyes of Lalit, once again shown standing together with his family in a group portrait. Try as she might to look for some sort of tell tale sign of his guilt or innocence, no answers came to her. That being said, the narrator was ready to remind the audience that the involvement of a third party could not be ruled out as a possibility. People familiar with the case often wonder where Lalit learned of this ritual, which usually leads to the suggestion that he was being influenced by some unnamed cult.

“I thought that was supposed to be something his dad’s spirit told him to do?”

Scootaloo scoffed at that, replying to Sweetie with, “Can you even call this a ritual?”

An interesting detail written in the so-called instructions was that one of the steps was to leave the front door unlocked. This could have been a way to allow another cult member to sneak into the house and take the family’s cash and belongings unopposed. That is, if it weren’t for Lalit’s friend arriving on the scene first. As interesting a possibility as it is, police have found no connection to any other groups so far. Even if there were any connections to be found, Apple Bloom still wouldn’t be satisfied. The fact that every explanation given so far had Lalit being complicit in his family’s death was bringing her no comfort.

Glum as she was, Apple Bloom might have started tuning out if it weren’t for the narrator mentioning the existence of paranormal theories. There are those who truly believed that Lalit was possessed by the spirit of his dead father, who wanted his family to join him in the afterlife. Apple Bloom immediately resented this theory too, especially for putting the idea of dear old Granny Smith doing exactly the same thing from beyond the grave. Thankfully, a better explanation came immediately after; that being the possibility that some sort of evil entity or “demon” was tricking Lalit into following its orders by pretending to be Bhopal.

Apple Bloom sighed. If possession or deception by an evil force was the least soul-crushing explanation she was going to get, then she’d take it. Having been there before, she could at least feel a little sorry for Lalit if she assumed this was true. However, the strangest explanation, if you could call it that, had yet to come. Everypony grew perplexed when the narrator began discussing the superstition surrounding this case, particularly it connections with the number eleven.

“Why? What’s special about the number eleven?”, Scootaloo asked with a head tilt.

“Wait is it one of those unlucky numbers?”, she then privately wondered to herself.

For starters, there were eleven family members who kept a total of eleven diaries for eleven years after the death of their father, and their ritual resulted in eleven deaths. While these observations seemed obvious, it seemed to run deeper than that. Strangely, even the house itself had connections to the number eleven. Above the front door there were eleven iron bars. There were eleven pipes on the side of the house that didn’t even connect to any water source or ventilation ducts, making their purpose a mystery. If that weren’t bizarre enough, the narrator even began to describe how the placement and arrangement of these pipes were similar to how the eleven bodies were found. As the narrator went into detail about these similarities, the girls were genuinely surprised by how much less crazy these comparisons started sounding the longer they listened. It was eerie enough to make the fur on the back of their necks stand up.

Scootaloo grew a little nervous.

“Are they saying this was some kind of curse?”

Somehow, it got even stranger when it was revealed that Lalit had these pipes installed only a few months prior to their deaths, insisting that it was for ventilation purposes. When the person who installed them suggested getting windows instead, Lalit simply refused. This very personal touch to the house by Lalit possibly further suggested that the outcome of the ritual really was part of his plan. This only forced both the narrator and all three audience members to once again ponder the question which truly sat at the heart of this case: What was going in Lalit’s head to make him decide to kill himself and his family?

Apple Bloom sighed as she began to realize how foolish she was to expect any closure from this.

“Serves me right, ah guess.”

She barely listened as the narrator shared an excerpt from his final notes. It talked about a lot of things, all of which the girls found confusing. From starting on the fulfillment of a “last wish”, to describing moving skies and trembling earth, to ending on a promise to “bring down” everyone. All of this left the Crusaders struggling to piece together this entry to the death that followed, unsure what it was supposed to clarify.

“What did any of that mean?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Does it even matter?”, Apple Bloom lethargically retorted.

As part of the conclusion, it was suggested that Lalit was likely so inwardly damaged that he didn’t want to continue on, yet he didn’t want to go alone. In any case, what everyone was left with was a tragic waste of eleven lives. A sentiment nopony disagreed with as the narrator gave condolences to the friends and family before expressing his hope that the Chundawat family found the salvation they were promised. Even though Apple Bloom was sure this story drained whatever energy she’d have stored up for tomorrow, at the same time she was somehow so restless that she couldn’t even wait for it to fade to black before scooting out of her chair.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had crept to the kitchen doorway and peaked their head around the corner.

“Psst… Apple Bloom, you alright?”, Scootaloo whispered as loudly as she thought she could get away with.

With drooping ears and heavy shoulders, the farm filly trotted up the stairs at such a brisk pace that one wouldn’t be able to tell that she felt as though she was dragging her big brother’s dirt plow behind her. It wasn’t even worth pausing to acknowledge her friends far behind her, their expressions of concern only something that would slow her down. The only thing on her mind was getting back into her sleeping bag, despite the possibility of getting sleep tonight now seemed like a miracle. Her body dropped like a sack of crab apples once she reached her destination. Had she been any closer to sleep a few minutes later when her friends finally arrived, she might have been annoyed when they decided to break the ice.

“Soooo, anything you want to talk about?”, she heard Sweetie Belle ask.

Without even opening her eyes, Apple Bloom could picture the unicorn awkwardly fiddling with her mane as she asked that question.

For a moment, she considered not answering but she reasoned that would only give them more reason for them to keep asking her until she cracked. So, might as well say something that’ll get them off her back. She opened her eyes, turning her face to her friends who stood in the doorway hanging on whatever she was about to share with them.

“Ah should probably say sorry to y’all.”

She arose from the bag as a show of committing to the apology before she continued.

“Ah wish that ah hadn’t made ya feel like ya had ta watch that story with me.”

Judging by their slightly furrowed brows, that wasn’t the kind of answer they were expecting; jury was still out on whether they believed that’s what was actually bothering her.

“Well don’t be down on yourself for that, Bloom. It’s not like you told us we had to watch it with you.”

“Yeah, you gave us an out. But we knew we’d feel worse if we left you down there to watch it by yourself.”

Apple Bloom mustered a small, but seemingly heartfelt smile, “Yeah, ah appreciate that. But that’s kinda what ah mean.”

“Y’all probably wouldn’t felt like ya had ta sit through that with me if ah hadn’t been so stubborn. It ain’t like ah needed ta keep ya from switchin’ to another story.”

Knowing she wasn’t done yet, Apple Bloom’s friends spoke nothing as she paused to quietly take a breath.

“So, just so y’all know. Next time ah’ll be sure ta listen to ya if yer tryin’ ta look out for me.”

With that, the farm filly laid down and settled back into sleeping bag. She wasted no time trying to get to sleep, focusing all her attention on her breathing. Ironically, the room’s silence actually made that easier said than done. Apple Bloom could tell that her friends were still waiting there in case there was something else she felt like talking about. They probably thought she’d start telling them what’s wrong if she felt like it was on her own terms, hence they waited rather than press the issue themselves.To make sure they got the hint this time, she flipped herself sideways in the opposite direction.

“Goodnight.”

A few more seconds of nothing preceded the sounds of them shuffling to their sleeping spots and getting under their covers.

“Finally.”

Apple Bloom’s self-assurance was flipped onto itself when she felt something snuggle up to her. She opened her eyes to see Scootaloo, after having got into her own sleeping bag, had scooted so close to her that she was actually nuzzling against her. Before Apple Bloom could ask what she was doing, a sound from behind forced her to back. Sweetie had laid her bed sheet flat on the floor, before laying down on the edge blanket. Apple Bloom watched the unicorn roll herself in her direction until she was also nestled right up to her friend, wrapped up like a newborn foal all the while.

Looking at the Apple Bloom rolled her eyes; of course. If she wasn’t going to tell her friends how they can help her, then they’d just help her any way they knew how. Should’ve saw that coming. What else can you expect friends to do when you don’t have family around to do it for you?

She took a deep breath as she let her eyes close.

Her friends can be counted on; her family can be counted on. If any mantra was going to help her sleep tonight, it was that one. If there was only one mantra she was going to live by, it’d be that one.

*Slam

In spite of how daunting a task it was, Apple Bloom managed to force her extraordinarily heavy eyelids to open ever so slightly. Rubbing the grog from her vision with her hooves revealed the shambling form of Sweetie Belle entering the kitchen with a newspaper in her magical clutches.

Wait, the kitchen?

A quick survey of her surroundings showed lavender walls, fuchsia cabinets, marble countertops; a glance downward made her realize she was sitting at Miss Rarity’s table, covered in its familiar but ornate covering cloth.

*Snore

And a peek to her side made her finally notice Scootaloo was also sitting at the table, snoozing like Granny Smith after a few minutes in her porch seat.

“Oh right. Rarity said she was startin’ breakfast.”

“Sweetie, I won’t explain further why that idea is in poor taste.”

Her eyes following behind her ears, Apple Bloom saw that same mare preoccupied with the breakfast on the stove, her eyes not even bothering to meet the pleading gaze of her younger sister who now stood beside her.

Just as Sweetie looked like she was about to speak back, Rarity cut her off by turning to meet her gaze.

“And I’ve already heard your points; yes, I will concede that nopony in town would recognize it, therefore they won’t realize there’s anything to take offense to.”

“How long had this conversation been goin’ on without me noticin’?”, Apple Bloom wondered. “Ah really am out of it, ain’t I?”

The fashionista accepted the rolled up newspaper from her sister’s magical grasp with her own as she continued, “But even if that’s the case, that does not change the fact that I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment.”

Ever the multitasker, Rarity did not need to pause her discussion to flip the contents of the pan.

“So, try to be understanding if I can’t find room in my schedule for such a request.”

Rather than complain or sink into disappointment, Sweetie Belle actually perked up.

“Wait, does that mean that you’ll think about it?”

With a nod from her big sister, she allowed herself a victorious hoof pump before taking seat at the table.

“Just remember”, the mare turned around with soft eyes and furrowed brows meant to reassure without raising somepony’s hopes too high. “Assuming I can deliver a costume for you on time, I must warn you not to expect your sister’s usual level of chic.”

“Costume?”

Was this about Nightmare Night?

“Don’t worry, it’s not like it needs to be that good.”, Sweetie replied. “Besides, everypony knows you’re a miracle worker.”

That flattery got a giggle out of the mare, “Only sometimes~”

With that, she went back to preparing the food whilst unraveling the morning’s newspaper for a read. For her part, Sweetie Belle simply sat at the table and enjoyed the good start to her day; she would’ve gone on like that, fantasizing about what she had planned a week from now, if she hadn’t noticed her friend staring at her from two seats away.

“Oh hey! You’re awake.”, she said to Apple Bloom.

“Just barely.”, the farm filly mumbled. ”Compared to you, ah might as well be asleep though.”

All the while, the pegasus between them still slumped forward and snored.

Sweetie Belle leaned in to begin whispering, “Yeah. I didn’t actually sleep so well last night, but I’m so excited about what I got planned next week that I don’t even care.”

“Yeah, ah heard somethin’ about that. Y’all figured out yer Nightmare Night costume or somethin’?”

“Yeah. I’d tell you what it is buuut, I’d like it to be a surprise.”

Apple Bloom really didn’t mind the secrecy, not when something more delicious was getting her attention. A magnetic smell emanating from the stove had been filling the room since she’d woken up, but it was only now when she started taking in the scent did she recognize the smell of eggs and…

“Is that haybacon!?”

Oh, it smelled so good! Apple Bloom wasn’t sure how much longer she can wait for that delectable breakfast. Yet, a part of her felt like she could sit there forever enjoying that mouth-watering scent. She wasn’t expecting anything to pry her attention away from this smell; not even the muttering she could hear in the room right now.

”That can’t be right.”

Or so she thought.

Her eyes now open, Apple Bloom turned to where she heard the disturbance to find Rarity with her back away from the stove, having put the frying pans and cooking utensils down for the first time she stopped dozing off as she buried her face into the newspaper.

“What’s not right?”

Rarity ignored her sister’s question, instead trotting out of the kitchen where she left the cooking unattended. After a moment, Apple Bloom leaned over and craned her neck to see into the room on the other side and saw the mare trot into view from left, wearing her sewing glasses. Once again, her face was buried deep into the news, her eyes studying it with the intensity of a scholar trying to decipher hieroglyphs they’d discovered on the walls of ancient burial tomb. She turned the paper onto every side and looked at it from every angle imaginable.

“No, I must not be remembering correctly. This isn’t the one they boarded…”

Already difficult to hear, her words only got more indecipherable as she once again swiftly moved out of sight from the entryway. Sweetie Belle scooted out of her chair to pursue, Apple Bloom joining her by the time she reached the entryway. In the next room, Rarity was frantically digging though the mail she accumulated this past week, quickly inspecting each one before immediately tossing them aside when they weren’t what she was looking for.

“Not it, not it, not it-“

“Rarity, what’s going on?”

The sound of her sister’s voice snapped Rarity out of her search, turning around to reveal a face so wide-eyed and wrinkled in panic that she would’ve detested how she looked right now if she were in front of a mirror.

“Sweetie!”, she exclaimed. “Could I ask you a favor?”

Her expression caught both fillies off-guard, and Sweetie was even given the chance to respond before Rarity relayed her request in a tone equally as troubling.

“I can’t find yesterday’s mail in this pile. Since I’m unable to remember where I put them, I need you girls to help me scour the house and find them right at once.”

Author's Note

Well, what else can I say other than: Happy Holidays, everyone~ :trollestia:
I knew I wanted this to get released around either Christmas or Thanksgiving, times where you guys just got back from large, wholesome family gatherings. I hope now that you’ve read this chapter, you’ll understand why I was so insistent on including this story. I knew the thought of your own family leading you to death would be a devastating concept to the CMC. This story would traumatize them in a way that no other story from before even comes close to.
I want everyone to understand that it’s an unfortunate reality that the people who are most capable of hurting are also the ones who take care of us. So, if you ever recognize concerning, controlling, manipulative or abusive behavior from your own family, please do what you must to stay safe and call the authorities for your own protection.
Hope you’re all doing okay.

Bad Omens

The silent, lifeless atmosphere of Ponyville Schoolhouse was like a protective bubble encasing the building until, much like a needle, an outsider pierced through its exterior by way of the window; the sounds of shattered glass sprinkling the floor and desks toppling over from upstairs signified the worst possible omens for the basement dweller below.

Somepony looking for a place of refuge in a small town like Ponyville would only have so many options. Yet, even if all choices were exhausted, it probably wouldn’t cross their minds to eye up Cheerilee’s Schoolhouse for sanctuary. But a filly desperately in need of a place to hide from the terror above didn’t have the luxury to be picky. Might as well go with whatever was nearby; didn’t hurt if the place also reminded her of times where her life felt safer, regardless of how dark and decrepit a hiding place this printing room was. Now that she heard the monster’s talons knocking the ceiling from above with each step it took, she realized now that any chance of safety hinged entirely on this thing neglecting to check the basement door.

Scootaloo was doing everything she could to get her frantic mind to figure out a way to barricade the door without letting the creature know she was down here. Whatever semblance of concentration she was mustering was immediately scattered by a raspy, otherworldly shriek that forced the filly to clench her jaw, close her eyes and cover her ears. For an incomprehensibly long time, the noise dragged on in the same way a blade gets dragged and scraped across a sheet of metal, cutting through the air non-stop without a pause for breath. It took Scootaloo a moment to realize that the noise wasn’t actually causing the entire building to rattle, only her. The only sound she could hear clearly over the Mothman’s cry was her heart beat pulsing throughout her body and head.

As the shriek still didn’t letup, Scootaloo kept her eyes closed. Powerless as she was, the filly did the only thing that was safe for her to do right now. She stayed still and slid her hooves off her ears to start slowly running them through her mane. All the while, she took in as much air as her lungs would allow and subsequently exhaled just as much. Whilst repeating this deep breathing exercise like clockwork, Scootaloo tried her best to imagine she was somewhere, anywhere besides here. Celestia knew she was doing her best to ignore never ending screech.

Just when it seemed like her efforts might pay off, the next breath she drew forced into a fit of couching and gagging. Her body suddenly seemed to reject the air in the room as she struggled to breathe through the assailing scent of smoke and taste of soot. Coming to her senses, Scootaloo swiftly drove a hoof to her muzzle to stifle the coughs, lest she risk giving her location away to her pursuer. However, opening her teary eyes revealed a whole threat; peering through the thin veil of smoke showed that what once was a pitch black room had become brightly lit in yellow and orange.

Frantically looking darting her head in every direction, Scootaloo’s mind could only keep confirming what all her senses were screaming at her. The room was on fire. Flames had not only consumed much of the walls and wooden banister, but they’ve already begun to reach some of the furniture and equipment, even the printer. One hoof still cupped over her muzzle, the filly deliriously sprinted between whichever were still safe, relatively speaking. She looked over to the stairs that lead her down here only to find them already miraculously taken by the inferno. The sight of that would’ve made her lose herself to panic if she hadn’t remembered something else: windows.

Sure enough, a quick scan of her surroundings found a window on one side of the room, big enough for her to get through but unfortunately left shut.

“And it’s out of reach!”

Looking behind her, Scootaloo saw the chief editor’s desk and chair, by all appearances still intact. Without hesitation, she bolted to that side of the room and grabbed that chair by its arm, dragging it from its spot behind the desk and navigating it through the accumulating wreckage. The filly freely choked out some coughs the likes of which she hadn’t made even on her worst sick days. Once she reached the spot below the window, Scootaloo steadily climbed onto the seat, now high enough to reach the latch.

After quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, as soon as she opened the window she was forced to wave off the smoke that suddenly rushed past her to billow into the open air outside. Desperate, yet determined eyes gazing up at the opening above, she squatted down as far as she could from her launch space on the seat. Muscles ready and wings fluttering, she leapt as high as she could and grabbed onto the windowsill. Immediately, the filly started yanking herself up to crawl through the opening.

However, just as she was halfway through, Scootaloo felt the window suddenly close onto, likely after one of her squirming hind legs accidentally kicked over the latch. Locked into place, instinct took over as once again her wings flapped as quickly and rapidly as possible in an effort to pry herself out of her spot. Yet try as she might, her underdeveloped wings proved every bit as useless as they always were. In a panic, Scootaloo pawed at the ground, trying to get away from the scalding heat that she felt getting closer and closer.

She then drew in a deep breath of fresh air only to expel it all in a last ditch cry for help.

The body stirred in its chair until the intake of smoke made the filly spring to life with a coughing fit. Getting her bearings, Scootaloo turned her sights to the cloud of smoke wafting from the stove to fill the whole empty space of the room.

Wait, why was she alone?

The moment Scootaloo realized nopony else was in the room, from the corner of her eye she saw a geyser of orange and yellow erupting into the air. With a shriek, the filly tumbled backward out of her chair. She hesitantly popped her head from behind the table. Turns out whatever lay in the frying pan must have been sitting unattended for who knows how long if the fire was any indication.

The flames hadn’t died down whilst Scootaloo began searching through the closet or even after Scootaloo pulled out a bucket and filled it in the sink. By the time she was hoisting the bucket above her head to douse the fire, the smoke clouds spreading out from the stove had consumed a third of the room. The coughing fit this gave Scootaloo made her grip and balance lapse for only a moment before she immediately dumped the water onto the stove. The outbreak of steam and sizzling hisses that followed marked the moment the fire was vanquished, but unfortunately that hadn’t forced the smoke cloud to dissipate quite yet.

Finally allowing herself to drop the bucket to the floor, Scootaloo put a hoof to her muzzle as she freely let loose a stream of suffocated coughs. With tears starting to form in her eyes, the filly hobbled out of the kitchen, still coughing. Waiting for the smoke in the kitchen to clear out, Scootaloo stood between the room’s entrance and the bottom of the stairs where she focused on indulging in as much fresh air as her lungs could allow. Just when she was starting to wonder for the second time where everypony else went, her thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the disturbance of hoofsteps coming from the level above.

As she heard those hoofsteps moving closer and closer in the direction of the stairs, she could make out Sweetie Belle’s voice saying, “I’ll go back to downstairs. Maybe we missed it.”

Almost immediately after, the unicorn filly’s form came into view at the top of the stairs, carrying herself with urgency even as she noticed her friend sitting at bottom of the steps.

“Oh, hey Scoots.”, she greeted between exhausted breaths. “Say, you haven’t happened to see a-“.

She paused to start taking a sniff of the air until she felt compelled to block her nose from whatever was assaulting her nostrils.

“Ugh! Why does it smell like something caught on fire down there?”, she exclaimed.

Before Scootaloo had a chance to explain, she was able to hear Rarity’s voice chime in from upstairs just clearly enough to hear her say, “What was that about something burning?”

Another set of hooves were heard trotting through the hallway above before abruptly stopping, presumably right before the top of the stairway.

“Aw sheesh, ah smell it too.”, Apple Bloom cried out before coming into view, soon joined by Rarity who popped her head into view.

Already looking frazzled, she took a couple investigatory sniffs of her own. The smell of charred, blackened eggs and haybacon visibly set her on edge. Without further hesitation, Rarity sprinted past her sister all the way down the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom she planted all her hooves to the floor, sliding across the surface for a brief moment until she was standing right next to Scootaloo. The sight of the kitchen flooded with smoke made her unleash a characteristically theatrical wail before proceeding into the disaster area herself, unable to hold her coughs in the filthy air.

As Scootaloo watched Rarity open the windows to let the smoke air out of the house, she felt Sweetie push past her to join her sister. Upon finally coming back downstairs, Apple Bloom stood next to Scootaloo as they looked on at their friend swiftly making her way to the stove to shut it off. With the windows fully open and the smoke finally starting to dissipate, Rarity and Sweetie Belle were now walking out of the room whilst letting loose a few more coughs; as the latter wiped away the tears building up in her eyes, the former was compelled to fan away the remaining scent of smoke still irritating her nostrils.

“Dear, Celestia!”, the mare exclaimed, before looking into the eyes of the children around her. “I am so terribly sorry that you’re breakfast is ruined. I can’t believe I allowed myself to forget turning the stove off.”

She looked back at the room behind her which was gradually clearing up and sighed, “Oh just look at it! Celestia knows how many hours it will take before the smell goes away entirely.”

Sheepishly rubbing one foreleg with another, Scootaloo was figuring out what to say that would actually help.

“I mean, you shouldn’t feel too bad Miss Rarity.”, she finally said. “It could’ve been worse, you know. You should’ve seen the fires coming out of those pans before I took care of them.”

The reactions that got out of everyone could best be described as flabbergasted, even horrified.

“Oh my goodness!”

“Y’all serious!?”

“Why didn’t you call for us?”

That last question gave Scootaloo the most pause.

“I-I don’t know. I just woke up to a fire and had no idea where you were. I figured I had to do something.”

Rarity was feeling more like a reckless, negligent authority figure by the second. She might have gone into a fit of self-pity on the spot if there weren’t more pressing matters. To clear her mind, she exhaled so deeply that it was as though she were physically expelling the gloom from her being. Then, she crouched down to eye level with Scootaloo before placing one hoof on the filly’s shoulder.

“That was excellent quick-thinking on your part, dear.”, she said in a tone she hoped was as reassuring as the expression she tried to put on. “Regardless of how regrettable it was of me to leave a young mare like you to deal with this on her own, we’re all better off for you realizing when to take initiative.”

Every part of Scootaloo was perking up as she took in Rarity’s words. After running one hoof through her mane, she put on the cockiest face she could muster.

“Uh… well you all know me. Stuff like this is nothing for somepony who’s ready for anything.”

Rarity gave a heartfelt chuckle as she stood back up to full height, “Hah. I’d reward you with a second batch of eggs and haybacon… but”.

She stole a glance out the window, “I doubt we have the time for that by now. If you want me to make it up to you though, I could make it again after you all come back from school.”

“Ya mean for supper!?”, Apple Bloom blurted out.

“If you wish.”

“That sounds awesome!”, said Scootaloo.

“Wonderful. Now you three go and get yourselves ready while I pour you some cereal. Make sure you don’t to take your pills, Apple Bloom. No time to waste.”, the mare said as she turned around and took a step into the kitchen.

“Wait, what about the letter?”

Sweetie Belle’s words made Rarity’s trot halt to a stop.

Scootaloo’s eyes shifted from Sweetie to her sister.

“What letter?”

The mare’s voice creaked like an opening door, “Oh, t-that’s nothing! I’m sure I’ll find it while you girls are out today. I probably shouldn’t have made it your problem anyway.”

Even though her sister hadn’t turned around, Sweetie somehow could tell her smile faltered for a moment.

“Now go get yourselves ready for school.”, Rarity declared whilst she rolled up and tossed the newspaper into the trash.

6:00 p.m.

The seamstress halted her work to glance at the clock and sighed.

Rarity just wished today would end already. The only solace she had so far was that she made good progress on the Phantom’s costume considering she wasn’t able to spend as much time on it as she planned. The trip to Twilight’s Castle would have been worth it if she were actually greeted by her friend when she got there instead of note on the door left by Spike. At least now she could take solace in the fact Twilight was heading to the scene of the crash to investigate. Still, it would have been nice not having to walk all the way to the post office and send out a letter with all the urgent questions she had for Twilight. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for her to answer.

“I’m still not used to how unavailable she is these days.”

The needle and thimble were left on the desk as Rarity exited her room, turning her back on her work in progress. While she normally would have spared a moment to admire her craft, Rarity had way too many other things on her mind. Like getting downstairs to prepare dinner, for instance. After turning the corner of the stairs, Rarity was able to spot her sister sitting at the dining table.

“Oh, Sweetie!”, she exclaimed shakily as she kept coming down the the steps. “Already done with your schoolwork?”

“Yeah. The other two aren’t done yet, though.”, the filly quickly explained whilst scrolling through the list of stories on the orb’s screen. “You don’t mind if I put something on, do you?”

“Not at all. You’ve earned it by now.”, Rarity answered quickly. “Besides, having something in the background while I’m cooking shouldn’t hurt.”

As she watched her sister break out all the cooking supplies, Sweetie noted how she wasn’t asked to show her work as proof this time. How odd.

Author's Note

Was debating whether or not to make this a longer chapter with the reaction included. But in the end, I figured it’s been long enough since you last got any content, so an interlude chapter would do nicely.
Edit: Shortened the closing lines.

The Disappearance Of Flight MH370

As Rarity laid the strips of haybacon on the tray, her sister hawkishly observed the absentminded way she carried herself. She couldn’t help but think back to lunchtime when her friends caught her wearing that exact same look. Shaking off the urge to revisit the conversation that followed yet again, Sweetie didn’t need to search hard for the next video. There was already a title that sprung to her mind that perfectly suited what she needed then and there.

The Disappearance of Flight MH370

Without the slightest hesitation, Sweetie clicked said story the second it appeared in her sights. The video opened on the sight of three men, the closest of whom looking through binoculars, all intently keeping close watch on the sea from their place on the ship. Patiently, she eyed her sister from the corner of her eye in anticipation of any shift in demeanor. While she couldn’t see Rarity’s face from where she sat, she did notice an unmistakable downturn in her work rate as the narrator discussed the cancellation of a highly publicized search effort which lasted three years and covered 120 thousand square kilometers of ocean. Despite all the attention it got and the cutting edge technology involved in the search effort, it had gotten the authorities no closer to finding the missing Flight MH370.

Rarity halted her movement mid putting the haybacon in the oven as the intro played out.

“Is something up?”

“Hm? Oh! It’s nothing wrong at all. I just remembered that one story you talked about at dinner a couple days ago.” Rarity kept herself from turning around as she closed the oven. “The Fatima Lady, was it? It sounded so nice, I thought you’d want to show me that one.”

“Is this story bothering you?”, Sweetie Belle asked in a tone that was a tad more suspicious than concerned.

Rarity finally turned around, carrying butter, milk and eggs from the fridge, “No it’s perfectly alright, I was only surprised. Besides, you’ve earned your break, you should spend it how you please.”

Thinking it might be optimal to lay off for now, Sweetie simply let Rarity sift through the cabinets for the cinnamon and vanilla. She turned her attention back to the screen to see the sun shining on a gargantuan flying machine souring above the clouds. While she couldn’t help but be in awe of this “airplane”, humans feared getting onto them and for good reason. While statistics pointed to flight as the safest way to travel, any mistake no matter how minuscule could spell disaster for all on board.

Rarity was somewhat surprised by the amount of resentment that was manifesting within her as she listened to the narrator speak. As a means of pushing aside her discomfort, she decided to keep busying herself with the meal prep. So wrapped up in cracking the eggs into the bowl she was that Rarity didn’t even notice the way her sister visibly deflated, ears pressing down onto her head.

As the scene switched to two pilots at the control room, the narrator mused on what might have been going through the heads of the passengers boarding the titular plane. They probably reminded themselves that the flight path from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to Beijing, China is one that MH370 and its crew of twelve led by Captain Zaharia Ahmad Shah was highly familiar with. Knowing this, the passengers must have had no way to expect being apart of the most mystifying disappearances in recent memory. Very few is known for certainty about the incident in question and what is understood has become muddied. This is thanks in no small part to the wild speculation and conspiracy theories that gave rise in the absence of concrete data and was exacerbated the international media’s attention as well as the profiteers who sought to exploit the tragedy for personal gain.

Whilst Sweetie sat through this unwanted reminder of her time with the Foal Free Press, Rarity quietly grumbled something about vultures and wanting to see Twilight “put them in their place”.

An illustration depicting the interior of a building looking out over an airstrip occupied by three planes, presumably Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Taking flight from this airport, Malaysian Airlines’ MH370 had set course for Beijing Capital International Airport for the next thirty-eight minutes. As they switched from Malaysian to Vietnamese Air Traffic Control, Captain Shah signed off with the now infamous farewell: “Goodnight Malaysia MH370”.

From that point on, it was never seen again.

“Hey, um… Rarity?” Seeing that she got the mare’s attention, Sweetie continued, “Have you ever thought about what your last words would be?”

That put a pause to her whisking she had just started, “Sorry, what do you mean?”

Sweetie Belle stirred in her seat, “Well, let’s say you knew you were about to die. What would you want your last words to be before you kick the bucket?”

“Well, I really haven’t thought about that in much detail. I suppose it would have to depend on the circumstances and who I’m saying it to.”

“Then what if it was me or mom and dad?”

There was a pause where Rarity bought herself time to think by sprinkling the rest of the ingredients into the mixture.

“I… would still need time to think about it.”, she finally answered. “But no matter what I might say for my parting words, it will end with me telling you how much I love you all.”

Looking on as her sister turned around to finish whisking, Sweetie let the conversation die then and there as the air gave way to the narrator’s voice; she nearly forgot it was there.

Something had been said about a “transponder” device on the plane being turned off, preventing it from being detected by Vietnamese radar. Multiple attempts had been made to contact the crew via satellite phone. This should have still worked in the event that all onboard communications had malfunctioned, yet no one would answer. Since then, this has been interpreted as a sign of a potential hijacking or sabotage by terrorists. However, since no terror group had come forward to take credit for the plane’s disappearance, this theory was quickly dismissed.

“Why would they want to risk getting caught by telling everyone they did it? Actually, what even is a terrorist?”

Doubting that Rarity knew the answer either, Sweetie opted to stay quiet.

Once it became clear that the plane most likely crashed into ocean, search parties from Vietnam, Malaysia and Singapore were quickly assembled to comb every inch of the vast stretch of water between Vietnam and China. With so much water to cover through and not even knowing where to start, the forty ships and thirty-four aircraft searching day and night fruitlessly struggled to find anything for weeks on end. Even with twenty-six countries in total joining the search, no real progress was made. As a result, there was intense criticism of the officials in charge of the search efforts by the distraught families of those onboard.

Rarity felt that anger was a tad misplaced.

“I think I’d know who’s to blame.”

Sweetie’s ears flicked towards Rarity’s muttering.

“What do you mean?”

Stuttering as her eyes shifted left and right, Rarity stuttered out, “Oh uh, I just think that they might be making more progress if they had Detective Rarity on the case!”

As she performed her iconic hair flip, she strained to keep up her cocky grin; she was so glad none of the victim’s families were around to witness her sorry display of tact.

The narrator made it clear that the odds were never in the search team’s favor and they could not be held entirely at fault for the operation’s failure. That being said, there were also some major missteps that could warrant criticism. Specifically, the first four days of the search took place in the wrong location. This was especially damaging for the first 48 hours, after which important clues and evidence often quickly diminish in cases like this. Still, there were some things that the investigation was able to determine. They were able to pinpoint the moment of the plane’s disappearance as taking place during the interaction between Malaysian and Vietnamese airspace.

Sweetie Belle eyed the map of Malaysia and realized both halves of the country were shaped like horns; granted she couldn’t decide whether the top half looked more like Chrysalis’ or Sombra’s, but she was confident that the outline of the bottom half looked like a big and healthy alicorn horn.

Represented as growing red lines on the map, MH370’s path was shown taking a sharp turn after clearing the Malaysian mainland, doubling back in on itself and flying back over the peninsula before turning once again, then flying straight towards the Indian Ocean. The way the plane’s wing dipped for an unusually long time whilst flying over Captain Shah’s hometown of Penang invited speculation that this was a symbolic farewell to the pilot’s childhood home.

Sweetie Belle took a deep breath through her nose.

“He probably really missed his mom and dad.”

Rarity didn’t notice her sister’s probing. Not because she was busy dipping the first slice of bread into mix. Rather, she was contemplating what that “goodbye” made by the plane to the pilot’s hometown might have meant; perhaps someone whoever took over the plane knew the pilot personally? This was proving surprisingly effective at getting her mind off of what had been gnawing at her all day.

This wasn’t the only bizarre aspect of the plane’s flight path. It also flew back almost exactly along the Malaysian-Thai border. Consensus says this action was a deliberate effort to avoid detection by either country’s radar. It’s suspected that the crew would’ve known something was wrong by this point. This begged the question, why did it seem that nobody onboard tried to stop whoever was diverting them?

“Do you think they really were held hostage?”, Sweetie asked.

“It’s hard to say for certain, but if that did happen then something did not go according to plan for the hijackers and everything else went awry following that. I can’t imagine somepony going through the trouble of taking an entire aircraft hostage just to crash it in the middle of the ocean.”.

Some aviation experts have asserted that the plane was depressurized, depriving the cabin of oxygen until the passengers and crew went unconscious.

“Hold on, how come I’ve never heard of airships having that problem?”, Sweetie Belle asked.

“Twilight once told me these planes reach heights far beyond what a zeppelin can. This wouldn’t happen on an airship so long as it doesn’t soar so high that the air becomes too thin to breathe.”, Rarity explained before pausing.

“And as long nopony decides to cut any corners, of course.”, she muttered under her breath.

The narrator suggested that some comfort could be found in the idea that all those onboard likely died painlessly in their sleep before the plane even crashed. As he proceeded to go over the specifics of how they were able to determine the most likely area that the plane could’ve crashed, Rarity shuttered ever so slightly.

“I’ve fallen from the sky more than I’d care for. Yet, the thought of waking up and looking out the window only for the last thing I see is the dark surface of the ocean getting rapidly closer is still a dreadful for me to imagine.”

The location they were able to narrow down the crash to was still a very expansive area in the southern Indian Ocean. This region was mapped in even less detail than the surface of the moon and suffered from tropical storms as well as some of the most tumultuous seas on the planet. Sweetie could remember times when she and her friends went kayaking down the river and had near death experiences by going too far down stream. She didn’t want to think about how choppy the waters in the Indian Ocean must have been.

“Did he just imply that they’ve explored the moon?”

Rarity remembered all the new places she traveled to during the quest to thwart the Storm King. At the time, she joked that the only place she and her friends could go next that’d surpass everywhere they’d been would be the moon. She must look like an amateur next to this race of space rangers. Though it is strange how these humans decided to try and colonize the moon before they fully explored the ocean. Normalized interaction between Seaquestria and the surface world had sparked an interest in the deep sea as the next frontier to settle. Would humans even be impressed by the plans Twilight and her council had cooked up?

After more than a year, a fragment of MH370’s wing washed on the shore of Réunion Island, thousands of miles away from its point of take off, Kuala Lumpur. The specific part that was found was called a flaperon and this surprisingly tells experts a lot about the flight’s final moments. Both sisters waited to hear the narrator elaborate on that only to be disappointed when he dismissed experts’ opinion as theories and speculation before moving on.

“You would think he’d at least explain how that one piece of evidence can reveal as much as experts claim.”, Rarity said as she flipped the first piece of toast in the pan onto its other side.

Sweetie sighed, “He’ll probably just wait until the end to start sharing all the theories.”

As the story switched to a plane flying off into the night sky, the Malaysian Government and Australian Transport Safety Bureau called off the search, concluding that an oxygen deficiency had incapacitated everyone onboard, leaving the plane to keep flying on autopilot until ran out of fuel and crashed into the ocean.

“But what about that weird route the plane took?”

Rarity agreed, “The fact that route helped the plane avoid detection cannot be mere coincidence.”

This was only one among many questions left unanswered by this explanation. For instance, why was communications on the aircraft turned off? How come the the emergency air supply didn’t deploy? Why would the plane dip its wing whilst flying straight if autopilot was on? As per usual, the lack of a satisfactory explanation has given rise to conspiracy theories ranging from plausible to absurd. Sweetie was glad they didn’t wait long at all for the theories to come and was ready to hear them all out.

Over a bird’s eye view of an island, the narrator reciting explanations given by conspiracy theorists. According to one theory, the flight was detected by radar on approach to the US military base on the atoll of Diego Garcia; the base possibly instructed MH370 to land and then shot it down after it failed to respond to warnings.

Sweetie simply frowned, “Didn’t they have any way of forcing the plane down safely? Why did they need to shoot them down?”

“I don’t remember most of the worst villains I’ve faced even being this quick to take a life.”

Then again it was possible that Rarity and her friends were spared from witnessing the absolute worst that monsters like Chrysalis and Sombra were capable of. But if she’s seen more restraint from them when dealing with sworn enemies, what secret was so important that this U.S. felt it necessary to act the way it did? Twilight never described that country as being so sinister as this theory suggested.

The basis of the claim is the geography of the area where the plane was last recorded, combined with its route, fuel reserves and available landing areas, all of which were consistent with a flight path towards the island.

“I didn’t think of all that.”, the Sweetie realized. “Rarity, how do sleuths spot so many details like that?”

The mare froze mid dunking the next slice of bread into the mixture.

“Um, that’s a trade secret!”, she chuckled awkwardly.

“What? You were only a PI a few times.”

“Trade secret!”

In truth, Rarity knew she wouldn’t have noted things like geography and fuel reserves, that was more Twilight’s style; still, Celestia be damned, Detective Rarity still had more flair!

However, the FBI dismissed these allegations, saying there was nothing suspicious about the flight’s path, especially in relation to the military base. Some other theories claimed the plane was taken over remotely in order to foil a hijacking. This idea was echoed by the Malaysian Prime Minister in 2018. Though he didn’t give any indication for who he suspected was the culprit. There were other theories similar to the first one mentioned that the aircraft was shot down, except this time the blame was planted on three different countries: Russia, China or North Korea.

“Wait, didn’t they say that China was where the plane was heading?”, Rarity noted.

“Yeah… they said this flight goes there all the time. Why would China shoot it down this time?”

This argument would have little credence if it weren’t for a prior incident where another Malaysian Airlines flight, MH17, was alleged to have been shot down by Russian anti-air missiles.

Sweetie squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Every time Russia came in these stories, they always seemed so shady. After, the Aleshenka story, she probably shouldn’t put it past them to do something like this, even if it still didn’t make sense to her.

“It’s not like it was necessary to kill that sweet old lady, either.”

Yet, MH17 was shot down in Ukrainian airspace, whereas MH370 disappeared far from any zones of conflict.

“Why is that important?”

“I believe it’s implying that the Russians are enemies with the Ukrainians”, , Rarity answered. “Hence, it wouldn’t be so surprising if the aircraft were to be shot down there where it might be mistaken for their foes.”

“Ohh. So, if the plane wasn’t anywhere near places that Russians see as threatening to them, then it wouldn’t make sense for them to shoot at it. Right?”

“That’s what I’m guessing at least.”

The next scene was what looked like a shot of the plane’s interior, all the passengers sitting unconscious in their seats with the exception of one man standing in the center of it all. This was meant to illustrate a different theory put forward by aviation expert Jeff Wise alleging the MH370’s vanishing to be the result of a highjacking. The theory revolves around the twenty employees of an avionics company specializing in stealth technology called Freescale Semiconductor who were on the flight that day. What followed was a lot of tangential info and technobabble that neither the mare nor filly could follow, all meant to support the assertion that the plane had in fact moved north and not south. Their attention had been slipping during all the talk of satellite data until the focus switched to the flight’s passengers list, which identified two Ukrainians and a Russian onboard.

“So, did the plane get out of control because a fight broke out between those three passengers and then it just went too far?”, Sweetie wondered aloud.

Not much was known about these three individuals besides the Ukrainians coming from a former Soviet naval base and the Russian’s penchant for scuba diving.

“I believe the implication is that they’re working together.”

Sweetie cocked an eyebrow, “But I thought you said the Russians and Ukrainians didn’t get along?”

“No people are a monolith, dear.”, her sister chided lightly, before turning her attention back to the prench toast. “Plus, as Twilight has told me, alliances and rivalries are very fickle things. Countries can sometimes go from being enemies to friends depending on the circumstances.”

“So, I guess it’s sort of like our current status with Diamond Tiara.”

She hadn’t been their bully for a quite a while and had began acting very kind and courteous to the Crusaders when they were going through their worst times. She even offered a small sum of her allowance to Scootaloo upon hearing about what happened to her house. Still, most of the time that heiress was their most standoffish acquaintance and at worst a pain in their flank. Sweetie Belle always flip-flopped on whether that made Diamond Tiara their frenemy.

Wise postulated that the Russian came on board carrying scuba gear and diving masks. He waited until the crew had become too preoccupied and then slipped in once Electronics & Equipment bay was left unattended. From there, he sabotaged the plane’s communications, plugged in a device meant to trick the satellite tracking it, and depressurized the cabin. All three men were able to stay conscious by breathing oxygen through their diving masks. Once the passengers and crew were unconscious took control of MH370 and flew north to Kazakhstan. The inside of the plane was then re-pressurized before the anyone onboard could die. The twenty employees from Freescale Semiconductor were put to work on Russia’s stealth program, whilst everyone else from the were effectively silenced.

Rarity was getting more absorbed by the description of this supposed plot, had this only been a narrative not involving real creatures she certainly wouldn’t have any shame in admitting that it’d make a nice read.

The narrator initially questioned the plausibility of this theory, citing the high likelihood of everyone on board perishing after only a few minutes of the cabin being depressurized. This would include the Freescale Semiconductor who were the primary targets of this alleged kidnapping. Yet, it’s possible that the three hijackers only needed a few minutes to take control of the aircraft without any resistance, at which point they would turn the emergency oxygen supply on. If Rarity and Sweetie Belle had to choose a favorite so far both of them would have gone with this one.

Over an illustration of the two pilots sitting at the aircraft’s controls, yet another theory was recited, this time claiming that MH370 crashed in one of the remote jungles of Cambodia. This one was popularized by British video producer Ian Wilson, who claimed to have spotted the plane’s wreckage on Google Maps.

Rarity spun around to eye the screen when something extremely odd about that sentence caught her attention.

“How in the blazes are the plane’s whereabouts still a mystery if someone was able draw a map leading straight to it?”

Rarity evidently wasn’t the only one who felt like this story was horseapples, though for different reasons. While there was photographic evidence of an aircraft in the middle of the Cambodian Jungle, the plane in the image appeared to be roughly ten percent larger than MH370’s model. Another proposed theory posited a fire breaking out on the plane, the smoke from which incapacitated everyone onboard as they were turning back around towards Malaysia to find a place to land until they ran out of fuel. As reasonable as it sounded, this one still didn’t explain why the transponder was turned off or the strange, specific route MH370 took back across Malaysia.

Then came the most popular theory, one which centered around the subject of the next illustration, the plane’s pilot Captain Shah; this immediately got both sisters attention. Many invested in this story have concluded that the captain, intending to commit suicide and make sure his body never be found, planned this tragedy himself.

Sweetie felt her mouth sink into a frown; it was as if the air in the room became so heavy it even weighed her cheeks down. Rarity could also feel the weight that a subject like suicide always brought. However, her attention was then immediately pulled elsewhere by the timer, signaling her to take the haybacon out of the oven.

In the time leading up to the flight, Shah had been practicing strange routes on his simulator, which he used in a separate room, isolated from others. Records on his computer showed that he practiced the exact route the plane took that day, but the final destination could not be determined. On top of that, it was also made public that Shah was going through marital problems in the months before the crash. This theory also explained why the plane dipped its wing for so long over Shah’s hometown of Penang, why the transponder was switched off and the precise route taken back over the country which only an experienced pilot can pull off. Sweetie Belle wasn’t thrilled with seeing something like this so soon after sitting through a story about an entire family committing mass suicide last night.

“What do they keep doing that?”, she mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“Why did he have to do all this?”, she turned around. “What did any of those people do to make him decide he needed to take their lives too? How is that fair?”

Rarity didn’t give her answer immediately, only looking back at her sister with pitiful eyes before turning away. She really took her time to cooking the last slice in the pan, allowing the narrator to continue on uninterrupted. Sweetie Belle eventually slumped into her chair as her form deflated. Soon though, as the narrator took the time to remind the audience of the victim’s families and gave his condolences to them, she felt two arms wrap around her from behind and her sister’s chin rest atop her head. The image of the plane sitting on the ocean floor faded into a black screen, signaling the story’s end.

“Sweetie.”

“Hm?”

The mare silently exhaled, “Is there something bothering you?”

Looking down at the ground, she said, “I… learned about that zeppelin accident during school announcements this morning.”

Rarity could already feel her throat tightening up.

The school’s announcements this morning broadcast the newly unveiled “Equestrian Paradise” and its tragic maiden voyage. It lifted off from Las Pegasus to begin its journey to the Crystal Empire only to wind up making an emergency stop in Vanhoover after a terrible fire broke out. Not everypony was able to get off before the rest of the ship erupted after landing. News headlines were amok with descriptions of mayhem and wild speculations of the death count. According to this morning’s edition of the Ponyville Gazette, of the 200 passengers onboard at least 40 died and over 80 were injured in some fashion.

“I see”, the mare croaked.

Another brief period of silence fell upon the room. Sweetie thought about how to breach the subject further and what she could say that could coax the answer out of her sister. But given how Rarity seemed to just be waiting on her to speak up, it seemed she’d just have to go straight to the point.

Turning around and kneeling in her seat to meet her sister somewhat at eye level, Sweetie Belle asked her, “Were mom and dad on that cruise?”

Rarity was dreading this exact question, but at least she’d been expecting it.

“Yes.”, she said with all the composure she could muster. “As much as I hoped otherwise, it really was the exact ship they were scheduled to go on.”

Sweetie could feel that sentence pierce her chest. She had to try real hard to keep the sheer unreality of this whole situation from forcing her into a breakdown.

“Ha-…have we heard back from them lately?”

Rarity didn’t verbally answer; her sigh said enough, though she still shook her head to confirm. She then pulled her little sister into her chest and rubbed the back of her head.

“I’ll try to get ahold of Twilight and see what she can tell me. If I can’t, I might have to head to Las Pegasus to see if they’re still at their hotel and if that doesn’t pan out I’ll go to Vanhoover to check every hospital there.”

Sweetie Belle wrapped her forelegs around Rarity’s torso in a vice grip.

“Please don’t leave town. I-I don’t…please, just don’t-“

“This isn’t easy for me either but I’ll only be away for a short time. Only a few days at most.”

“Well a lot can happen in just a short time!”

Rarity went silent, listening to her sister’s shaky and uneven deep breaths and finally noticing the wetness soaking into her chest tuft. She once again began running her hoof through Sweetie’s mane.

“There, there.” She then placed her hooves on Sweetie Belle’s shoulders and gently pushed her back to reveal her leaking eyes and sniffling muzzle.

“Listen, dear. How about we wait a week and if we don’t get anything from mom and dad in the mail, we could head to Canterlot together and ask Twilight if she can help us find them.”

Sweetie eased herself with a deep breath and replied, “Can you promise nothing is going to happen to you too?”

That got a wince out of her big sister.

“I…I’m sure nothing is going to happen to either of us. And if Mother and Father turn out to be alright, you’d have even less to worry about.”

Unfortunately that didn’t bring Sweetie much comfort.

“It’s just that…you’ve gone on so many adventures and came back okay so far. And then suddenly one freak accident might mean my parents are gone, just like that!”, she paused to wipe her nose. “So, do I now have to worry that I might never see you again next time there’s a bad guy you need to stop?”

“Yes, a freak accident.”, Rarity bitterly thought to herself. She might have believed it too, if she hadn’t learned from Twilight weeks ago the investigations being made into the company responsible for crafting that airship, New Horizons, for allegedly cutting corners in spite of mandatory safety regulations.

She looked back down at Sweetie Belle to find she’d dipped her head down to wipe more tears from her eyes. Rarity took a breath, then put her hoof under her sister’s chin and lifted her head back up so that they could look eye to eye again.

“Here’s something I can promise you Sweetie.”, she said before lowering her head to the filly’s level and nuzzling against her cheek. “Even if something were to happen to me or even mother and father, just remember that doesn’t mean you’ll be alone; you will never be forced to fend for yourself, not so long as our friends and family have anything to say about it.”

“…I hope they’re okay.”, Sweetie said as she nuzzled her sister back, letting more tears flow freely down her cheeks.

For her little sister’s sake, Rarity held herself back from any crying; now was the time to be strong for her and as much as she wanted to right now, the sobbing would wait for if the worst came to pass.

“So do I.”

None were aware of the eavesdropper who sat at the top of the stairs.

“Ah guess we were right afterall.”, Apple Bloom said; now though, dear Celestia she wished they’d been wrong. “What do ya think we should say ta them?”

She craned her neck around to see Scootaloo too preoccupied looking up at the ceiling to respond.

“Scoots!”

“Huh?”

“Should we ask AJ and Rarity if we can stay here longer? Ah just get the feeling Sweetie might need some shoulders ta durin’ all of this.”

Scootaloo shrugged, “I mean, it’s not like she won’t have her sister to keep her company. And, maybe some space might be just what she needs. For a little bit, anyway.”

“Ah guess that wouldn’t hurt much. Still, we should check on her by Monday, at least.”

“Let’s just hope things turn out alright.”

“Darlings, I made that breakfast for dinner I promised you this morning. Come down!”

Apple Bloom began trotting down the steps.

“This gon’ be awkward.”, she mumbled.

Scootaloo made a motion to follow her before immediately stopping to look back up at the ceiling. She could’ve sworn that a second ago, through all the wailing winds outside, she’d heard a strange hissing noise coming from right above. Then, out of nowhere, several bumps and creaks sounded from the roof through the ceiling before abruptly ending. Scootaloo dashed to the window to get a look at whatever made all that noise, but nothing could be seen poking out from the roof’s edge. When she turned her attention elsewhere, she saw something she had trouble making out and rubbing her eyes didn’t change it in the slightest. An indistinct black shape flying off into the distance on what had to be massive wings.

Author's Note

After two episodes in a row covering very recent, high profile tragedies, you all can rest assured that the next chapters will see a return to the usual supernatural fare.
For now though, I hope you enjoy what this chapter has to offer and that it gets you excited for the direction this fanfic is taking.
Next bunch of chapters are going to be set at Sweet Apple Acres where a pleasant surprise awaits Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and you the readers. :twilightsmile:

Friday Night At Sweet Apple Acres

Friday

With how badly they wanted to avoid getting caught in the rain, their goodbyes to Sweetie Belle and Rarity wound up rushed. The only special parting words Scootaloo and Apple Bloom could come up with was wishing them luck on finding their parents and the supportive hugs that were to always be expected. Applejack and Rarity had danced around that issue during their parting conversation for as long as they could. After being filled in on how many pills her sister might need to take in a day and when to change her bandages, Applejack reassured Rarity, telling her to not give up hope that her parents might be safe; it was always said amongst their friend group that whenever Pinkie Pie’s cheer couldn’t lift your spirits, AJ’s brand of sincerity would.

Unlike them, Scootaloo was at least lucky enough to know that her guardians were still okay for now. She wished she could just be thankful for that, but she couldn’t get her mind off of how eerie the timing of all this felt to her. First a tree wrecks her home, then a few weeks later Sweetie’s mom and dad are involved in a zeppelin accident. And between those, there was even that cart crash; actually, now that they were passing the exact spot where that happened, Scootaloo had to admire the clean up crew’s work. From the outside, all these incidents had nothing to do with each other. But it sure seemed the monster of her nightmares was making a strong case against that notion, especially when it showed up outside the window last night, zooming across Ponyville’s skyline like a black shooting star.

Had it not been for all the grim prophecies potentially signified by its appearance, the little pegasus might have been in awe of that thing’s air maneuverability. She might have even considered going up to Rainbow Dash and daring her to track it down so that she can challenge it to a race. But for the first time Scootaloo was asking herself if she should go to the Wonderbolts’ next show for reasons other than for its own sake.

It’s been long enough since she last saw her idol, what would it hurt if she got some money together now so she could travel to the other side of the world and check up on her? Of course, she could write a letter to her parents first before leaving, just to see how they’re doing. Hopefully she’ll also have time to pay her aunties another visit, make sure that shack they’re staying in hasn’t collapsed on top of them while she was away.

She had to wonder, what Apple Bloom would think of all this if she’d tell her about it right now? Maybe she’ll back her up when she asks Applejack if she can get tickets? Her aunties told her how tight money would be after they get their house back and it might take too long for her parents or Rainbow Dash to send money back through the mail, so AJ was probably her best option. Though, it didn’t look like the sisters’ conversation about what they’ve been up to lately wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

At least AB hadn’t blabbed about the big piece of contraband stowed away in her backpack, but Scootaloo couldn’t put her hoof on why the farm filly kept eyeballing her big sister so strangely. Only thing she noticed was different about the mare was that she had a new kind of neckwear on. Actually, was there something really familiar about that scarf or was she imagining things?

“Eh. I got too much on my mind to focus on that right now.”

Actually, Scootaloo realized she probably should calm down right now, especially about trying to get to RD. Was she really gonna go through with all that over a few nightmares? Rainbow has always come back home no matter what; why should now be the time she loses faith in her hero? Besides, if seeing that monster in her dreams was supposed to mean something alarming and prophetic, then how come nothing in her dreams came true? None of her nightmares predicted that zeppelin crash as far as she could tell. Then again, even if she could dismiss her dreams, she couldn’t bring herself to overlook what her own two eyes saw flying in the Everfree’s direction last night.

For Scootaloo, the distant rumbles of thunder reverberating from the clouds was only background noise compared to all these thoughts she could hear buzzing around in her skull. She didn’t even realize they were at Sweet Apple Acres until she was standing right in front of the Apple family’s front door. Just as Applejack got one hoof on the welcome mat, her sister suddenly spoke up.

“Hey, um… AJ?”

“Hm?”

The filly flinched as her big sister looked back at her for the first exchange of words they had during this entire walk.

“Ah been meanin’ ta ask ya about… that uh scarf you’re wearin.”

Upon her eyes widening, Applejack cast a brief glance down at her own neckwear, “Oh, this here? Somethin’ wrong with it?”

“No! No. Nah, iiiiit looks nice on ya actually.”, Apple Bloom hastily softened her tone. “Ah was just thinkin’ it looked an awful lot like… well, granny’s old scarf.”

“Is that what that is?”, Scootaloo privately asked herself.

Now that she looked at it again, she had to realize its color, its frills and especially all the apples printed on that fabric made the scarf a dead ringer for Granny Smith.

Applejack blinked a few times before answering.

“Well… funny thing ya mention that.”, she said before pausing momentarily to face forward again. “This actually was her old scarf.”

The thunderstorm in the distance could be heard growing closer as she walked past the doorway.

“Glad ya like it, sugar cube.”, she added in a highly restrained tone.

The fillies were left standing there to let the mare’s words sink in until they were brought back to their senses by the enormous thunderclap which shook the earth beneath their hooves. Apple Bloom took the lead but got only a few steps past the door before she was abruptly tackled from the right. It took Scootaloo’s eyes a moment to process the mass of twisting limbs writhing on the floor before she could recognize Apple Bloom caught in a front-quarter nelson by…

“Babs!”, Applejack chastised to no avail. “Honestly, y’all ain’t even say hello ta each other and you two are goin’ at it already!”

“Have t’ get the drop on her to (*groan) stand a chance, cousin AJ!”, said Babs Seed between determined grunts and through clenched teeth.

Apple Bloom strained a smirk, “That ain’t helpin’ ya this time!”

Babs was then pushed all the way back into the living room where all manner of things could be heard getting tipped over, shaking the room upon impact with the floor.

Applejack swiftly followed behind them, “If y’all don’t knock off the ruff housin’, there’s definitely gon’ be a big mess fer ya ta clean by the time it’s over.”

Until the oven’s timer rang, the only sounds that broke up the constant downpour heard outside was Scootaloo’s ravenous eating occasionally followed by AJ telling her to slow down; that and the palpable feeling in the air of Apple Bloom’s self-satisfaction mixed with Babs Seed’s salt. The former should’ve counted herself lucky that her head wound somehow didn’t open back up during that scrap.

Back when the Apple family’s resident ice breaker was still with them, this table was much more alive with conversation. This quiet had become the norm in her absence. Though, after months of getting to know the family, there was one newcomer who was proving herself capable of filling that particular hole that’d been left behind.

Sugar Belle practically pirouetted from the oven to Babs’ side of the table, presenting the filly a tray of apple fritter, “Does our special little guest want the first bite of dessert?”

Oddly, Babs looked at the assorted array of apple fritter with a touch of apprehension.

“Wait a minute!”, Scootaloo exclaimed, voice somewhat muffled by the cornbread still in her mouth until she swallowed. “I’ve already finished and she’s barely even touched her green beans, shouldn’t I be getting first… bite?”

Towards the end of that sentence, Scootaloo’s voice began to die down as she noticed out of the corner of her eye Applejack taking her attention away from her assortment of paperwork on the table for the first time to glare at her.

“It’s aight, I’m not even that hungry anyway.”, Babs said.

“You sure, hon? This could be just the pick me up you need right now.”, Sugar Belle insisted.

“Aw, no need ta worry about Babs, this ain’t the first time she took a loss against me. She’ll get over it.”, Apple Bloom assured, both figuratively and literally hoof-waving the issue. “‘Sides, she’s been a light eater as long as ah can remember.”

Her sister-in-law’s eyes and mouth narrowed as though trying to parse what Apple Bloom said was causing her face to shrink, “Huh? Wait, you’re telling me you haven’t heard by now?”

“Heard what?”

Scootaloo’s question was met by Big Mac’s baritone voice.

“Surprise y’all weren’t told on the way here.”, he said as he cast a glance at Applejack.

She dropped the papers she was holding to address the room, “Ah suppose that woulda made sense. Too bad mah head was so stuck in the clouds durin’ our walk that this somehow managed ta slip mah mind entirely.”

Now that Apple Bloom thought about it, her sister had never even mentioned that Babs would be staying over.

“Sorry, can y’all or Babs fill us in here? Ah’m kinda lost.”, she spoke up.

Just when Babs was about to answer, AJ raised her hoof.

“No need, sugar cube. Ah’ll handle this.”, she said before clearing her throat. “Ya see, Babs here is gon’ be stayin’ with us fer the next two weeks.”

“Woah!”, Scootaloo exclaimed as she turned her attention to Babs. “How’d you convince your mom and dad to let you do that during the school year?”

Even a tree crashing through her house wasn’t enough to get Scootaloo any time off from school.

“That’s the thing.”, AJ continued. “Before we left Manehattan, we chose ta pay our family a visit and at the dinner table we start askin’ how school is goin’ for Babs.”

She paused for a sigh.

“And they says, Babs’ got no school left for the foreseeable future. I ask ‘em when did schools start givin’ out breaks durin’ fall; only for them ta say that they didn’t mean it was just closed, her school was pretty much gone for the time being.”

While Babs was preoccupied with looking down at her plate, the other two girls were now hanging on Applejack’s every word.

“Turns out, at some point durin’ our stay in Manehattan, Babs’ school had burned ta the ground.”

“Wha-?”, both girls spoke up in unison before halting. Apple Bloom then turned to her cousin, directing pity at her, “Is that true?”

Babs did her best to pull her eyes away from her plate and look at AB directly, though not fully successful, “Yeah.”

“Shucks.”, Apple Bloom breathlessly uttered. “Nopony was hurt, right?”

“Everypony came out alright… for the most part. Roller has t’ stay at the hospital for a little bit after breathin’ too much smoke. Doc said she’ll be out sometime soon, though.”

Letters exchanged between them had gotten Apple Bloom somewhat acquainted with Babs’ friend, Rolling Blaze.

“H-how did the fire start?”, asked Scootaloo.

Applejack sighed, “Nopony’s managed ta figure that out last ah heard.”

“Ah’m real sorry that happened, Babs.”

She merely shrugged in response to her cousin’s sympathy, “It’s not all bad. All the school projects I was stuck doin’ have now gone up in smoke and I probably won’t have t’ make those up. Plus, with how long I’m gonna be outta school, we’re gonna get tons of time t’ hang out.”

While the other adults beamed at this, Applejack rolled her eyes; though, her own grin ultimately betrayed her true thoughts.

Apple Bloom chuckled, “Ah guess, that’s true. But it probably won’t be too long before your school gets rebuilt, right?”

Babs then shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “Uh yeah, I did hear some guys from my world history class say that there might be a fundraiser sometime soon. So, I probably don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Scootaloo, are you feeling okay?”

The two cousins turned in the direction of Sugar Belle’s voice. They immediately recognized what she was talking about when they saw how Scootaloo’s face was a few shades lighter than normal. When she spoke, she looked as though she’d just been snapped from a trance.

“Huh? Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Yer lookin’ mighty pale right about now.”, Big Mac pointed out while his wife put a hoof on the filly’s forehead to check for a fever. “Ya sure yer alright?”

“It doesn’t feel like you’re burning up. Really hope there wasn’t anything wrong with my cooking tonight.”

Apple Bloom was unable to hide the concern in her voice, “Wait, don’t that mean we’d start gettin’ sick too?”

“Listen, I feel just fine. Nothing’s wrong with me or the food. So can we please get a plate of apple fritter now?”, Scootaloo whined.

“Alright, we’ll take ya at yer word; but if ya start ta feel worse later, you tell us. Understood?”

After giving a simple nod at AJ’s words, Scootaloo and the other fillies were then greeted with dessert being dropped onto their plate. She wasted no time tearing into the gooey, doughy delight. Although try as she might to fully lose herself in the taste, her mind couldn’t bring itself move past what Babs had just told her; nor could she forget that nightmare she had yesterday morning.

“Is this really just a big coincidence?”

It had to be. Then again, her and her friends somehow found themselves connected to more and more tragedies lately, whether directly or indirectly. It’s no wonder that thinking of all this got the fur on the back of her neck standing up.

Author's Note

Say hi to Babs, everyone! Cause she’s here to stay. :pinkiehappy:

This was the most fun I had writing a chapter in a while and I have a feeling this will reflect in a reading experience that surpasses all of the previous interlude chapters. It’s even gotten me excited for the next chapter where the girls get acquainted with…
The Grinning Man :pinkiecrazy:

But first! Keep your eyes open for a new poll this coming Sunday where you’ll once again get to decide which story will be included in a future chapter!

Edit: Added an extra line at the end of the chapter to make it feel more complete.

Author’s Note: Poll #3 [CLOSED]

Author's Note

Those of you who have been paying attention lately know that I announced at the end of the latest chapter that a poll would take place in the near future. Well now the time has come!

You’re going to cast your vote in the comments, stating your choice between two similar stories involving the German military’s supposed encounters with the paranormal.

Polls will close on Saturday. The winner will be included as a chapter sometime in the near future. Now, let’s begin! :pinkiehappy:

UPDATE: By the narrowest of margins, Ghost of UB-65 has come out the winner. Though, quick reminder that it won’t be for a few more chapters before you can expect to see it

Author’s Note: Poll #3 [CLOSED]

Secrets of Celle Neues Rathaus

The Ghost of UB-65

Who is the Grinning Man?

Babs inspected the crystal ball in front of her from every angle possible.

“Okay, maybe it’s just me, but nothin’ about this screams alien t’ me.”

As far as she could tell, this looked like any prop a fortune teller might have.

Frankly, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom thought Babs would have no further questions after they turned the device on, proving that it worked. She initially seemed pretty blown away by the holographic screen of disconcerting titles partnered with equally ominous images projected by the orb as far as they could tell.

“So, where did yuh get this again?”, she asked.

That got Scootaloo to raise an eyebrow, “We told you already. Sweetie’s big sister gave us this just to get us out of her mane for a bit.”

“Well duh!”, Babs exclaimed with a furrowed brow as she raised both forehooves in the air. “I meant how’d she get her hooves on this thing?”

“Prolly Twilight. Sweetie learned allll about the human world from her.”, Apple Bloom answered. “Plus, there’s nopony else ah can think of who can rig up some alien tech.”

“Okay, you’re tellin’ me that you and ya sistas have borrowed a piece of alien tech from a different universe and are now filled in on secrets that only the ruler of Equestria is supposed t’ know!?”

“Yup.”

“And she’s just… okay with this?”

The farm filly shrugged, “Ah mean, can’t imagine we’d have it right now if Twilight ain’t okay with lendin’ it out in the first place.”

Babs stole another glance at the orb; her sister wasn’t kidding when she said having friends in high places can get you anything you want.

“And you been using this just t’ look for spooky stories?”, she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Scootaloo groaned, “Yes! Now are you gonna watch some with us or do we have to answer even more questions for you?”

“I mean, not like I’m goin’ anywhere tonight.”, she replied whilst eyeing the ongoing storm through the window.

“All ah needed ta hear!”, Apple Bloom said as she began climbing onto her bed, carrying the orb with her.

Once the other two got settled, AB got her cousin to point one hoof at the screen and cover her eyes for the selection process without any protest. Once they were done, Babs uncovered her eyes to read the title she landed on.

“Who Is The Grinning… Man?”

“Man is what these humans call their stallions.”, Scootaloo explained succinctly before quickly adding, “Woman is their mares.”

“‘Kay, appreciate that. But what makes a guy who stands there and smiles at yuh such a big deal?”, Babs wondered before postulating something else. “Think he might be this world’s Pinkie Pie?”

Apple Bloom shook her head, “Naw. Accordin’ ta Sweetie, Twilight already met the human world’s Pinkie.”

The smirk disappeared from Babs’ face; she was only kidding when she said that! Her cousin must have been pulling her leg too, right?

“Could be that universe’s Cheese Sandwitch, though.”, Scootaloo facetiously suggested.

“Then let’s hope this one ain’t turned into a total sad sack like ours has lately.”, Apple Bloom privately thought to herself.

The CMC all thought Cheese Sandwitch moving in with Pinkie at Sugarcube Corner would be fun. And it was for the most part, but every time Pinkie was out of town for too long like she currently was, Cheesy would get all mopey.

Once it was time for the story to finally begin, the girls were greeted by the sight of a man looking at the camera; no discernible features could be found on his face, almost like they had been blurred or wiped clean off.

Alien? Humanoid Cryptid? Man in Black? Figment of the imagination? Or all of the above?

That was already two terms that Babs didn’t know.

Despite being known by many names, the narrator considered The Grinning Man to be the only title necessary for this being known to terrorize people during the dead of night as he pondered its identity for the audience.

“Ya sure Mr. No-Face wouldn’t work better?”, Apple Bloom suggested.

Babs would’ve said the same thing if she didn’t have a different question on her mind.

“So, care t’ fill me in on what a Man in Black and cryptid is?”

Scootaloo spoke up, “Well, we’re pretty sure cryptid is just supposed to be another word for monster. But Men in Black… that’s gonna take some explaining.”

Thankfully the intro bought enough time to do exactly that, though Babs only paid half attention to the explanation as she felt herself become more and more drawn in by the title sequence and all the bizarre imagery it had to offer; it certainly set the tone. Once it was over, the story cut to a setting that reminded her a lot of Manehattan Park where two children in the foreground played while everyone else in the distance went about their business.

The narrator invited the audience to bring themselves back to the mindset of their childhood, waxing poetic about its boundless adventure and possibilities.

“I never get why grownups act like we have it sooo good.”, said Scootaloo, to which Babs agreed.

“Oh but Scoots, yuh just don’t realize how hard it is havin’ the final say on everything.”, she responded in a mock imitation of a shrill, know-it-all tone.

With the boost in workload and shrinking of free time she’s had for the past few months, Apple Bloom found herself the only one in the room who kind of understood where the narrator was coming from.

There are two things children everywhere fear near universally. One was the dark, the other was some kind of bogeyman. Whether that bogeyman be the town’s local recluse, an unseen entity hidden in the trees or an unsightly creature that came out at night to feast on children. Every place had a story of a monster designed to frighten the young.

“So, is the Grinning Man hidin’ in there?”, Babs wondered in regards to the cabin in the woods onscreen.

Scootaloo scoffed.

“Only foals are still scared of the dark.”, she thought to herself with a (undeserved) proud smirk.

“Hmm. Ah guess that’d make the headless horse Ponyville’s bogeyman.”

Babs chuckled, “Your legends out here in the sticks are just so corny, I can’t take it.”

Apple Bloom puffed her cheeks, “Oh yeah? Name me a scarier story y’all got from Manehattan then.”

“Legend has it a buncha people flushed their pet baby gators down the toilet once Manehattan police started crackin’ down on ownin’ exotic pets years ago. Now there’s a massive horde of ‘em livin’ in the sewa’s. If you’re scared of a headless spook, you’d totally piss yourselves if I told yuh just how big they get down there.”

Babs then heard her cousin snickering and saw her covering her muzzle to hold back her laughter while her friend spoke in a mocking tone.

“Oh no, not alligators! The Timberwolves in the woods and the Hydra down in the bog are one thing. But gators? Oh!”

Babs sulked as Scootaloo proceeded to give her best impression of Rarity’s fainting.

“Forgot this town sits right next t’ the Everfree.”

No matter what monster it was, the parents would assure their children that they weren’t real. After hearing it enough times as they grew up, this would inevitably become accepted as truth. Yet, sometimes one couldn’t help but wonder how they could be so sure of that, what with how many people every year report encounters with horrific creatures. Scootaloo’s ears flattened, that more or less described the cycle her thoughts had been stuck in for the past week.

Meanwhile, the story had come back to the image of the faceless man. While aliens, wendigo, men in black and mothman among others were not beings anyone with common sense would wish to come across, one of the most frightening entities to bump into on a cold, dark evening was undoubtedly “The Grinning Man”. This being is infamous for plenty of reasons, not least of which is his propensity for entering people’s homes in the dead of night and watching them as they slept.

Picturing that in their minds brought shivers through the fillies’ spines as well as some very needed questions that none of them voiced. The man was said to be seven-feet-tall with broad shoulders and a muscular physique which were clad in a tight-fitting, reflective one-piece suit. Though, what left the biggest impression to witnesses was his face. As the narrator described a face devoid entirely of hair with a shallow nose, beady eyes that were set unnaturally far apart and an impossibly wide grin, these features slowly materialized on the man’s face where blankness had been initially.

“Nnnope!”, Apple Bloom simply exclaimed.

Babs chuckled nervously in a failed attempt to come across as unfazed.

Scootaloo’s felt her blood run cold as she took in the uncanny stare and off-putting grin, “You’d think being used to Derpy’s crooked eyes and Pinkie’s smile would prepare me for this guy, but something about his face just looks so wrong.”

The grin was what obviously left the biggest impression, both with the girls and with eyewitnesses, for the sheer menace it exuded. The way his mouth smiled but his eyes didn’t was enough to make witnesses feel as though they were staring death in the face.

“You can say that again.”, Babs said under her breath.

“Ah think he just perfectly summed up what’s wrong with that face of his.”

Thankfully, they were given some respite from his visage, the story switching to an illustration of two boys, designated as Martin Munov and James Yanchitis by the narrator, walking through some sort of tunnel underneath the “New Jersey Turnpike” on their way home from a “movie theater”. Given how late it was, the poor illumination and the sounds of traffic coming from the roads above made for an uneasy atmosphere. It didn’t help that earlier that evening they heard about a woman being chased by a huge man wearing a green suit.

Scootaloo quirked an eyebrow, “How come we’re not hearing her story first?”

In spite of this, the boys didn’t let their nerves disrupt their chat as they casually strolled alongside the high chain-link fence. Just as they were about exit out of the other side of the turnpike, James noticed someone standing in the bushes on the opposite side of the fence. Martin turned to look behind him and that’s when both of them noticed the man and his tall, well-built figure that could make Bulk Biceps jealous.

“Heh. I may have seen some dudes who look kinda like that wanderin’ the streets. They definitely don’t hit the gym quite as hard as this guy does though.”, Babs joked.

The man was wearing a green reflective suit and his attention seemed entirely fixed on a house off in the distance.

“I dunno how you can tell what direction this weirdo is looking.”, said Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom privately wondered what it was about that house that caught the Grinning Man’s attention.

After a few seconds of not noticing the two boys staring at him, the man then turned to face them. Once they laid eyes on his uncanny face, the boys panicked and ran far away from what they described as “the weirdest looking guy” they ever saw.

“Why does this remind me of those really lame stranga danga plays the school makes us sit through?”

Babs couldn’t stop herself from cracking a smile after saying that. The mental image of her schooler recreating this scene with her fellow crusader and friend Rocky Road playing this weirdo did make it a little less scary.

Shortly after this incident, famous author and ufologist John Keel showed up to investigate a UFO which was spotted 40 miles away. Once he heard of the boys’ story, he met with and interviewed them separately. They both gave the same description of the strange man and pointed at the same spot when asked where they saw him. With the aforementioned UFO sighting taking place on the same night connections were inevitably drawn between these incidents, which gave Babs a moment of pause.

“Wait, so if he’s obviously an alien then what wuz with all that buildup in the beginning? I thought the whole question about what he is was supposed t’ be this big mystery?”

Apple Bloom shrugged, “Narrator just has a thing for those sorta rhetorical spiels. Does ‘em all the time.”

As much as Babs wanted to keep questioning what the point of the rest of this was now they’re giving away the answer to the big question so early, Scootaloo first had to give her two cents in regards the second eyewitness account which occurred 500 miles westward of the first one in-

“In West Virginia!? How many other monsters do they get there?”

“Makes ya wonder if West Virginia is just this world’s version of the Everfree.”

Babs looked back and forth between her cousin and her friend, feeling totally out of the loop.

“So, got time t’ fill me in or-?”

“Shh, I’m trying to listen here!”, Scootaloo whispered.

Babs then turned to her cousin only to find her also engrossed in the story onscreen. She then sighed and decided to let that question go for now in favor of listening to the story of sewing machine salesman, Woodrow Derenberger. On a nighttime drive along Interstate 77, him and his car(t) were stopped right in their tracks when a spaceship descended from the sky and landed on the road in front of him. The weirdest part about this for Babs was how that scenario was represented on the orb’s projection by a big box on tiny wheels approaching what looked like a supersized version of her mom’s favorite vase.

Stepping out of the strange craft and approaching Derenberger’s vehicle was a man who near perfectly matched the description of the stranger spotted in New Jersey; the only difference was the one-piece reflective suit he wore was blue instead of green. The uncanny Grinning Man was shown standing outside the car, leaning in close to Woodrow through the window in a manner that was probably meant to be friendly but came across as intimidating. To the surprise of the salesman and the fillies watching, the man who identified himself as Indrid Cold, communicated telepathically without using his mouth. The first thing he asked Derenberger was about the “strange glow” on the horizon, not realizing it was the lights of a distant town.

“Wha-?”, Babs balked. “So, this guy who knows how t’ fly super advanced spaceships somehow wouldn’t be able t’ tell Manehattan is a city until he lands right in the middle of it? How in Tartarus does that add up?”

Scootaloo scrunched her nose in thought, “Why do I remember one of us saying something just like that?”

Apple Bloom pawed at her mane in thought, “Wait, ah think this Indrid Cold fella showed up in a different story we watched, didn’t he?”

Scootaloo’s eyes shot wide open and turned to Babs, “Oh yeah! They mentioned this same incident in the Mothman story and Sweetie Belle made the same point you just did, Babs.”

Apple Bloom chuckled, “Hoo boy, Sweetie would probably get a real kick outta that if she were with us right now.”

Babs noticed her cousin’s ears flop down and then caught a glimpse of Scootaloo’s smile faltering for a moment as she sighed.

“Yeah, that sure would be something.”

“Is it me or did the mood suddenly get all down in the dumps?”

Once he was finished asking about the people and surrounding areas, Cold thanked the salesman and ominously promised to visit him again before finally returning to his craft and departing.

Apple Bloom grimaced, “That… don’t sound so good.”

“Rocky once showed me a comic where an alien in disguise says the same thing t’ somepony, then abducts ‘em days latuh t’ replace their eyeballs with mind control parasites.”, said Babs.

Given that Derenberger’s encounter occurred two weeks before the Mothman phenomenon in Point Pleasant began, suggestions of a link between these two otherworldly beings persist to this day. The existence of a reported sighting of the Grinning Man on the outskirts of Point Pleasant during the height of that phenomenon only fueled speculation further.

Babs looked back and forth between her cousin and her friend, “Okay, can yuh do me a favuh and tell me what’s so special about this Mothman guy?”

“Ah mean, if it really is that important ta the whole mystery, the narrator will probably tell ya himself later on.”, AB answered. “If ya really wanna know, we could put on the story they did on Mothman after this is over.”

Scootaloo turned to face both of them, “Do we really have to? Honestly, it’s like that thing always finds a way to rear its head during any story we watch. Like it won’t leave us alone.”

That prompted a head tilt from her friend.

“What do ya mean? Ah don’t remember him comin’ up durin’ any other story till now.”

“Forget about it.”

The only one who felt more left in the dark than Apple Bloom right now was her cousin, who quietly watched their exchange with growing frustration. While the feeling of missing out on stuff was something Babs was accustomed before she came out of her shell, since then she’d come to hate the thought of getting used to that again.

Even though Babs was simmering over this, the Lilly family had a much bigger problem on their hands. While the rest of Point Pleasant was in a panic over Mothman, this family was dealing with sudden poltergeist activity in their home. Objects were either rearranged or thrown from shelves all on their own; these invisible also slammed doors. If that weren’t bad enough, they also saw strange lights in the sky over their house. Whether it was day or night, this activity rarely ceased and the family got very little respite during this extremely tumultuous time.

Scootaloo felt a tingle run through her back, “Don’t tell me we’re somehow getting ghosts in this story too!”

“Ah guess they didn’t have anypony else’s place ta stay if they couldn’t just leave.”

Linda, the youngest daughter, would experience the worst of it when after being awoken by an odd clicking sound she was greeted by a terrifying figure. As the illustration showed, she cowered under her covers at the sight of the Grinning Man standing at the foot of her bed, shrouded in darkness and staring at her with his trademark grin. She claimed that when she finally worked up the courage to peak her head back out to look again, he was gone.

“Sounds like this could be one of those prowluhs mom and pop told me t’ look out for.”, Babs reasoned, despite how much this creeped her out.

For weeks after that, Linda was too scared to sleep in her own room and only felt safe enough to go back after the poltergeist activity had stopped. From that point on, the Lilly family didn’t experience any paranormal activity ever again.

Scootaloo took this detail, in conjunction with everything else the narrator said so far, as a sign that disaster didn’t follow the Grinning Man the same way it did with Mothman, regardless of their possible connection. Then again, if she really has been seeing the Mothman lately, wouldn’t that mean she’ll get a visit from the Grinning Man too?

“Oh Celestia, he’s going to show up in my nightmares now! I just know it!”

Next, a town in Massachusetts would have a number of reports about a man matching the description of Indrid Cold creeping through their neighborhoods from late 1966 to early 1967. While there are clippings from old local newspaper which supposedly give more details about these incidents, unfortunately they weren’t available online or to the wider public.

Babs’ eyebrow quirked when the narrator explained not all sightings of the Grinning Man occurred in the U.S.

“So that’s where this wuz? What’s the U.S. stand for?”

Scootaloo finally snapped back to the present, “Wha-? Oh, I don’t remember. You can just call it America.”

On the outskirts of the small Scottish village of Dunkeld, Mary McRae and her husband Alan lived in a relative privacy that was interrupted on one strange night. Much like Linda, Mary was awoken in the early hours of the morning by an indistinct clicking noise. When she opened her eyes, Mary claimed she found herself lying on her front, completely paralyzed and struggling to breathe. Two of the fillies watching grew shocked and perplexed as they heard the narrator detail how Mary’s experience resembled “Sleep Paralysis”, which wasn’t yet recognized as a disorder at the time.

“S-sleep paralysis?”, Scootaloo stuttered.

“That’s an actual thing?”, Babs asked.

“Yup. Zecora told me about it once. Even showed me this pendant she uses ta keep it from happenin’ ta her.”

AB grew a cheeky smirk when her friend asked, “What causes it?”

“Nopony knows, some say it can happen ta anypony without warnin’.”

Babs scoffed, “I call muleshit on that.”

“Ask Zecora, she’ll tell y’all the same thing.”

Having never experienced anything like this before, Mary began to feel increasingly panicked yet was unable to do anything as the clicking rose to a piercing volume. That was when she realized the curtains were open even though she distinctly remembered closing them just like she did every night. During all this, she felt as though she were being watched. She didn’t figure out the source of that until she saw a slight movement out of the corner of her eye.

In the bottom left pane of Mary’s bedroom window, the Grinning Man was seen staring directly at her. Even though the sight of him horrified her, she couldn’t bring herself to look away as though her gaze was putting her in a hypnotic trance. She still had no control of her motor functions, even as she felt her whole body float out of the bed slowly draw closer to the face in the window. She wasn’t even able to let out a scream, no sound exiting her mouth whenever she tried.

“Well there’s first time we heard ‘em do anything besides just stand there… menacingly.”, Babs pointed out.

Mary then blacked out and awoke the next morning with a terrible headache that lasted a week afterwards, with no idea what happened between her passing out and waking up; assuming any of that actually happened in the first place. Though, finding the curtains still open the following morning would make her doubt that she had merely experienced sleep paralysis, possibly even up to her death decades later at the age of 94.

While the narrator began the closing segment, Apple Bloom had been pondering her cousin’s observation for a moment. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were all too quick to judge him. With the possible exception of Mary, he hadn’t actually hurt anyone as far as she could tell.

“Ya think he might just be misunderstood?”, she asked the other girls.

“What misunderstanding is there in breakin’ in t’ somepony’s house?”, Babs questioned.

“And abducting a lady from her home?”, Scootaloo added.

AB turned to the latter and said, “They didn’t actually say that he abducted Mary.”

“Sounded like they implied it t’ me.”, her cousin countered

“Look all ah am sayin’ is this fella sounds like an alien who don’t understand the planet or the ones livin’ on it. It’s possible he don’t realize that the way acts seems threatenin’ ta creatures like us.”

She didn’t give the others a moment to consider or respond to her suggestion before adding, “It ain’t like we haven’t seen ponies mistake an outcast for a menace before, right? It was kinda like that when we met, Troubleshoes.”

“Who?”, Babs asked.

“Long story.”, Scootaloo quickly answered. “And I think you might be speaking too soon, Bloom.”

Indeed, the narrator unknowingly served to undercut the farm filly as he talked about how those who have claimed to be abducted by aliens have reported either seeing a grinning man during their experience or mentioned hearing the name Indrid Cold. The clicking noises that Linda Lilly and Mary McRae heard during their encounters are also commonly reported in other alien abduction cases.

Apple Bloom’s expression turned sheepish, “Okay, that does sound bad. But at least they ain’t hurt.”

She winced under both girls’ deadpan gazes, “Well, ah mean, they were still in one piece and were able ta tell the tale.”

“You could say the same thing about the Mad Gasser.”, Scootaloo countered. “Again, long story.”

Babs’ question died in her throat right then and there.

One particularly bizarre encounter was reported in Italy during December of 1979 by a man named Pier Zanfretta, who allegedly had a history of being abducted by a race of reptilian aliens.

“Actually abducted or just him sayin’ he’s been abducted?”, Babs noted.

Zanfretta claimed he was contacted by a grinning man named Indrid Cold shortly before he was taken aboard a UFO. The salesman from earlier in the story, Woodrow Derenberger, would also go on to state that he would get many more visits from Cold throughout the late 60’s to early 70’s, as well as two other grinning men named Demo Hassan and Karl Ardo. Even his wife backed up his testimony, claiming she also met these beings and saying she believed they had evil intentions. Sadly, she and Derenberger separated shortly after these encounters.

“Wow, this guy can’t catch a break.”, said Scootaloo.

“How could she leave him like that for somethin’ that ain’t his fault? You’re supposed ta stick by each other durin’ times like this!”, stated Apple Bloom.

“Probably was too scared of gettin’ wrapped in whatever these aliens got planned t’ keep stickin’ around.”, Babs reasoned. “Everypony has their limit.”

The biggest elephant in the room when it comes to the Grinning Man was his connection to the Mothman. Many speculate that the Mothman is also extraterrestrial in nature. However, some even go as far as to say that both these beings as well as MIBs are all part of the same race of shapeshifting aliens.

Babs did a double take due to how out of nowhere that theory was, while Scootaloo panicked internally about the idea of the monster in her dreams being able to disguise itself as anyone.

“Ya know, those Men in Black did act pretty weird, but I remember them having a different vibe than Indrid Cold.”, Apple Bloom observed with her head cocked to the side.

“I dunno, shapeshifting would explain why they haven’t been caught.”, Scootaloo suggested.

“But why are they so bad at disguises? Ah’m pretty sure if we asked Ocellus ta grade their performance she’d give them an F for sure. Ya know what ah mean?”

Babs’ eyes shifted left and right, unsure why AB was looking at her like she was supposed to know Ocellus; well, beyond what she’d been told in letters, specifically.

“Uh… yeah, I guess.”

Though the narrator cautioned against taking this all at face value. He reminded the audience that at least the first three reported sightings were filtered through John Keel and may have been subject to some embellishment on his part. It was possible, even likely, that he made changes to these accounts with the aim of having something more bizarre and fantastical to sell to the public. It would therefore stand to reason that the eyewitness accounts since were copycats. Though the narrator did find it uncanny how similar all the descriptions were and how all the sightings occurred between Winter and Spring.

Babs grew perplexed, “Doesn’t that whole explanation of Keel bein’ a liar and the rest bein’ copycats cover that base too?”

“And why should we care if he only shows up in Winter and Spring?”

Actually, now that Scootaloo thought about it, that might be good news for her assuming him and Mothman are the same. More time to prepare.

Could it be that the Grinning Man, whomever he is, seem to prefer colder seasons? No pun intended, of course, on his alleged last name.

“Did he just try t’ make a funny?”

“Huh. Now, ain’t that a first?”

The narrator then decided to cap the story off with the one he was sure about. With more encounters being reported each passing year, it was clear that this phenomenon wasn’t going away anytime soon. He left the audience with one last piece of advice, whether walking down the street or sleeping in their bed they better hope to never come face to face with a tall, smiling man who calls himself Cold.

When Babs tore her eyes away from the fading image of Indrid Cold, she finally noticed the other two girls staring at her expectantly.

“Sooo, what’d ya think?”, her cousin questioned, one inch from her face.

As politely as she could, Babs pushed Apple Bloom’s muzzle away from hers for the sake of breathing room.

“It… definitely went places I wasn’t expectin’.”

Scootaloo shoved herself into view, “But was it scary?”

Babs paused to consider her response, “Well… I’d be lyin’ if I said that Grinning guy wasn’t creepy. Tough t’ even get a read on what his deal even is. His face would make for a great mask, though…”

Without warning, she suddenly broke into a giggle.

“What’s so funny?”, Scootaloo asked.

Babs couldn’t contain her grin like she did her laugh, “Sorry, I just imagined how those jerks in the filly scouts would react if they saw a guy like that. Oh Celestia, the looks on their faces would be priceless!”

Apple Bloom leaned in close to Scootaloo and whispered, “Her and the Manehattan filly scouts have a big grudgefest goin’ on with each other. Just don’t ask, we’ll be here all night.”

“Okay. Well, I call dibs on choosing the next one!”

Before they had the chance to move on, Babs had something else to get off her chest.

“Y’know, I’ve been meaning t’ ask, how’s Sweetie Belle doin’?”

Through clenched teeth, Apple Bloom made a sharp inhale as though Babs’ words struck her in the kneecaps.

Scootaloo stopped biting her lip for moment to say, “That’s a bit of a sore spot right now.”

Babs’ ears fell slightly, “What? Are you not friends with her anymore?”

“Nah, that ain’t it.”, Apple Bloom clarified. “How about ya scroll down the list for Scoots while ah catch ya up ta speed, alright?”

Author's Note

It’s good to be back. Always happy to hear constructive feedback. Specifically, I wanna know what you guys think about how I write Babs’ accent. Any inconsistencies? Is it still easy to understand? Does it sound accurate?

To those who were there for the last poll, yes we’re still going to do Ghost of UB-65. There’s just going to be a few other stories we’ll be doing before we get to that one. Nonetheless, expect to see it in the future.

In the meantime, enjoy this year’s Christmas gift 🎁

Happy Holiday, everyone!

The Ghost of UB-65

Only one word passed through Babs’ toothy grip on the stylus, “Shit…”

“Yup.”, her cousin replied simply.

Babs halted her scrolling and turned around to witness the heavy look on Apple Bloom’s face. She let go of the stylus and asked, “So, what’re they gonna do now?”

“Well, they ain’t give up hope that their ma and pa survived just yet. Closest ah heard to a plan was Miss Rarity tellin’ Sweetie that they’ll head out ta Vanhoover ta search for their parents if they don’t hear back from ‘em before the end of the week.”

Almost forgotten by the other two, Scootaloo finally chimed in to say, “I think Sweetie told me on the way to school there was actually a change of plans. Said something about her sister writing letters to Twilight asking for her help.”

“Really?”, Apple Bloom puzzled, then contemplated further. “Think Twilight’s gonna dispatch a search team from the Royal Guard ta look for their folks?”

“At the LEAST.”, Scootaloo answered.

“I can’t imagine how badly Sweetie might be takin’ all this right now.”

This was all a bit surreal for Babs. It was only yesterday she had heard about this airship accident, felt sorry for everypony involved but otherwise didn’t think much of it. Now she comes to Ponyville thinking she has it rough with her school burning to the ground, only to find out one of her friends is going through something worse. At least Babs knew for a fact her schoolmates were safe. Meanwhile, Sweetie will probably have a bunch of sleepless nights just hoping to not get the worst case scenario.

The moment of silence was broken when Scootaloo said to Babs, “Hey, if you’re done scrolling, how about I just choose the episode now.“

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Relieved that she got to give her arms a rest, Scootaloo let them drop to her sides as she read the title.

“The Ghost of UB 65”

Scootaloo silently cursed herself upon reading that aloud.

“Just my luck!”

Scootaloo hardly paid any attention to the opening lines the narrator gave over the metal leviathan which was the subject of this story’s haunting.

“Is that one of those U-Boat thingies?”

“Guess that means we got another story about the Germans then.”, said Apple Bloom.

Now that she looked at it closer, Babs did see the resemblance to the shipyard just outside of Manehattan. There was just one thing that was throwing her off though.

“How come this looks so different from every ship I’ve seen?”

“This one is built for goin’ underneath the water.”, her cousin answered.

“Huh. Wonder if my sis would wanna take somethin’ like that for a spin?”

The narrator proceeded to monologue about the mindsets of the opposing factions at the start of World War One.

“Would ya look at that? We finally get ta learn a thing or two about the first world war for once.”, Apple Bloom remarked without noticing her cousin’s disbelief.

“There’s more than one!?”

Scootaloo eyed up the all the men trudging through smoke-filled fields of grass and barbed wire carrying their hand-canons with them.

“Hang on, these are supposed to be soldiers? Why are they all wearing bowler hats?”

“Pretty sure those are actually helmets.”, Babs corrected. “Sorta reminds me of the helmets that lesser officers in the old Pegasai army used t’ wear.”

According to the narrator, the allied nations held a traditional and gentlemanly view of warfare. In their eyes, combatants should face each other head on in organized and decisive encounters. In contrast, the Central Powers would utilize new technology and evolving battle tactics to win the war by the quickest means possible.

“AJ would sure have some opinions on that.”, Apple Bloom commented.

The flaws in Great Britain’s mentality quickly revealed themselves once poison gas started flowing over battlefields across the continent and German zeppelins firebombed London. This left Allied leadership clamoring for innovations that would counter Germany’s wonder weapons. Nowhere was this more apparent than on the high seas. Despite boasting the mightiest navy on Earth, Britain’s massive fleet of warships had trouble coping with the Imperial German Navy’s U-boats.

Even though it boasted a larger number of submersibles, the Royal Navy’s insistence on treating them as subservient to the main fleet rather than allowing them to operate in isolation like the Germans did. For this reason, German U-boats were able to wreak havoc on Britain’s outdated naval forces in numerous devastating attacks such as when the 7th Cruiser Squadron lost three cruisers and 1,450 men or when a U-boat torpedoed the cruise liner RMS Lusitania killing 1,198 people, many of whom were neutral American citizens.

Both AB and Babs’ ears folded down at the sight of the ship sinking beneath the waters as the death count sunk in. For her sister’s sake, the latter was happy that things were cool between all the kingdoms on Equus.

“I think we might already know what’s haunting these submarines.”, Scootaloo guessed. “If somepony killed me over something I have nothing to do with, I’d definitely haunt their ass.”

Over the next six months, over a million tons of shipping would be destroyed by U-boat activity which would earn their commanders reputations as the Aces and Mavericks of the German military. In August of 1917, UB-65 joined the 142 strong U-boat fleet. Before it was deployed or even so much as entered the water for the first time, this particular U-boat would be known as one of the unluckiest vessels to ever be put to sea.

“Even worse than when we tried river raftin’?”, Apple Bloom dared to wonder aloud.

During her time under construction, UB-65 would experience an unusually high number of accidents. In one instance, two dock workers got crushed underneath a falling girder. One was “lucky” enough to die instantly whilst the other remained conscious for two hours, screaming in agony until he finally succumbed to his injuries.

For a moment, all three fillies’ eyes grew wide-eyed as they sat in stunned silence. While Scootaloo audibly gulped and Apple Bloom covered her mouth, Babs was the first one to speak up.

“Have I ever told yuh that there’s this kid at school whose dad died just like that? Haven’t seen her talk t’ anypony since.”

The tragedy didn’t end there. Numerous more accidents during maintenance and testing would take the lives of crewmen. The only one mentioned that didn’t kill anyone was a testing run where a malfunction in the ballast sent the vessel crashing down onto the sea bed where it spent the next 12 hours before finally resurfacing.

“I’m getting claustrophobic just thinking about it.”, Scootaloo whispered under her breath

Judging by the illustration of the cramped interior that came onscreen, that feeling was totally justified.

AB sighed in relief, “At least they all got out of THAT okay. If only those fellers coulda been so lucky all those other times.”

“Life’s not fair.”, Babs said looking downward.

Given sailors’ superstitious nature, the ones assigned to UB-65 were quick to believe that it was cursed.

“Wait, is that true what he just said about sailors?”, Apple Bloom questioned with her tilted slightly.

“Oh it’s more true than you probably think.”, Babs answered. “Me and sis took a river boat one time when she was back from duty. Gave me crap the whole ride for the crime of whistlin’”

Scootaloo quirked an eyebrow, “Whistling? What’s the harm in that?”

“She said whistlin’ into the wind when it starts pickin’ up could summon a storm or even sea monster.”

“Did she forget that you were on a river and not the ocean?”

“Good luck trying to explain that t’ her. Hope yuh like goin’ in circles.”

Despite how jittery his crew was, Captain Martin Schelle would net let that stop UB-65 from being cleared for duty. This was a sentiment shared amongst higher ups in the Imperial Navy now that the allies had developed methods of countering their submarines. With every U-boat available now being rushed out into service, UB-65 was then set out on its maiden voyage.

Schelle hoped that the thrill of battle would make his crew forget about all the hair raising rumors. Unfortunately, that evening would further cement the idea of a curse in the minds of the crew. In the process of loading the torpedoes onto the vessel when one of them inexplicably detonated. While the damage to the submarine was minor, five sailors were seriously wounded including the ship’s Second Officer, Lieutenant Richter. He would later die of his injuries.

“Ah should thank Sweetie for talkin’ us out of lightin’ those firecrackers.”

Her friend turned to her indignantly and said, “Oh come on, do you really think a firecracker compares to these torpedoes?”

In October of 1917, after repairs UB-65 finally set sail through the North Sea.

“Okay, not that I’d be too scared to get on that thing, but maybe they should look into this whole curse situation just in case?”, Scootaloo said more tentatively as she noticed the judgmental stares she was getting. “You know, to make sure it won’t create more problems.”

On its first mission it managed to sink five enemy vessels, including the British corvette HMS Arbutus.

“Is it weird that ah was expectin’ ‘em ta accidentally sink one of their own ships?”

Babs had to hold back laughter at her cousin’s comment; had to remember these were still real creatures they were talking about.

For a time, it seemed the crew had been wrong in their assessment of the vessel. That is, until a string of unnerving incidents began. One evening, a crew member came to Schelle’s cabin to inform him of a situation on the deck. When the Captain made his up to the conning tower he found Petersen, the sailor chosen for lookout duty, cowering in the corner. As he recounted what he saw, the illustration showed the lookout up in the conning tower and someone else in an officer’s uniform standing a few feet away on the ship’s bow, back turned to him. When Petersen called out to the man, he turned to reveal the face of none other than the deceased Lieutenant Richter, who then vanished before his eyes.

“Maybe Petersen was good friends with Richter and just missed him so much he sees him when he isn’t there?”, Scootaloo offered.

“Ah can see that. Applejack misses Granny so much that she sometimes acts like she still with us.”

“Well two things. One I don’t think they got t’ know each other long enough for that t’ be true. Second, what do yuh mean your sista acts like Granny Smith is still here?”, Babs asked her cousin.

“Well sometimes when she thinks nopony is lookin’, ah catch her goin’ ta granny’s old room and talkin’ to the picture of her next ta her bed.”, Apple Bloom explained. “Usually she talks about the farm or how ah do at school.”

She noticed the weird looks her friends were giving her.

“I-is that weird?”

Babs waved her hooves in front of her.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”, answered Scootaloo quickly.

Schelle berated the sailor, accusing him of being either intoxicated or cowardly. He warned Petersen that if he spread any rumors of ghosts to the rest of the crew, he would suffer serious consequences. But news of the incident had already spread throughout the boat even as Schelle was still making his way back to his cabin.

“What was the point of threatening him anyway?”, questioned Scootaloo. “Sure, teasing them would be one thing but why does Schelle have to be such a jerk about it?”

“Big sis tells me most officers tend t’ have a branch up their ass.”, Babs answered.

Several days later, another lookout had a ghostly encounter. This time, after clambering up into the conning tower he felt a tap on his shoulder and found Richter standing behind him, smiling. Scared out of his wits, he fell backwards down the ladder and into the control room, breaking a leg in the process. His screams of pain disrupted the morning’s tranquility and drew crew members to his location. As they tried to help him, two of the men swore they saw Richter staring down at them from the conning tower hatch before disappearing. Even though he once again threatened disciplinary action against those involved, Schelle was left feeling a little nervous after this incident.

“One of ‘em has a broken leg! What’s yer problem, Schelle?”, AB exclaimed.

“Can we please not talk about broken legs right now?”, Scootaloo pleaded. “Makes me think of that time we had to drag you back to Sweet Apple Acres after you broke yours trying to get a rock climbing cutie mark.”

“Oof. I can only imagine how bad it musta been tryin’ t’ explain that t’ cousin AJ once yuh got home.”

Her cousin’s guilty downward gaze and drooping ears as well as Scootaloo’s clenched jaw and thousand yard stare was all the indication Babs needed.

The hauntings not only continued into UB-65’s second patrol, they increased in both volume and intensity. One evening, two engineers working on a piece of machinery reported that they saw Richter surveying the control panel behind them, before proceeding to walk straight through a nearby bulkhead.

While Scootaloo felt a chill run up her spine, Babs wasn’t so rattled.

“Oh.”

The former gave her a strange look, “What do you mean, oh?”

“Well he said that it was going t’ escalate. So I figured this time Richter would beat up a crew mate or push one of ‘em off the ship. Somethin’ like that.”

Schelle was initially worried that reporting the issue to his commanders would reflect badly on him. However no enemy ships sunk during the second patrol, the captain feared that this sharp decline in performance meant that his crew were too frightened to carry out their duties. So, he no options other than requesting a new crew.

“Wait, so he fired all of ‘em? Harsh!”

“Eh. It’s less they were fired and more like they were shuffled t’ somewhere else, I think.”, Babs explained to her cousin.

“I guess we now know why Schelle kept getting so uppity. He doesn’t want his reputation getting torpedoed.”, said Scootaloo.

“And if my sista has taught me anything about naval officas, he also doesn’t want t’ see his chances at a promotion go underwater eitha.”

On the way back to their home base at Wilhelmshaven, a torpedoman working in the bow compartment looked up to see the dead second officer walking past him; in typical fashion, the spirit then disappeared through the steel hull. The crewman was driven so insane that he screamed then carved a violent path through the boat, fighting his way past every crewman who stood in his way until he made it to the top of the conning tower. From there, he threw himself into the water.

“Sweet Celestia!”, Babs exclaimed wide-eyed and mouth agape.

Apple Bloom struggled to find the words.

“W-what’d he have ta do that for!?”

Scootaloo’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks and she felt herself break into a cold sweat. The idea of being trapped with something that terrifying until you come to shore was a nightmare.

“And it won’t even wait long enough for you to get that chance!”

Schelle stood on deck with several other crew members, watching helplessly as this scene played out. When he turned around, he saw Richter standing amongst the others and staring back at him, before fading into nothingness.

“And here I thought Richter didn’t actually wanna hurt his old crew mates.”, Babs said.

“Technically he didn’t.”, AB pointed out.

Schelle’s superiors were initially angry and bemused at his patrol reports and request for crew reassignments. However, the corroborating testimonies by his junior officers and his crew swayed them enough to take action, even if it was only to quash any potential hysteria that might spread to other ships. The commander of the Flanders Submarine Fleet decided to launch an investigation into the supposed supernatural activity. A Lutheran priest was also brought in to conduct an exorcism of the boat while the majority of the crew was quietly replaced.

“Banishment is probably the only real way to stop a ghost. What else could you even really do?”

Apple Bloom was too busy pondering if this priest’s “exorcism” counted as some form of magic to acknowledge Scootaloo’s question.

“He might be usin’ some kind of gadget, instead. Ah sure don’t remember any human magic users mentioned in the other stories.”

UB-65 would go through two more patrols without any incident until a fateful encounter with the American submarine, L2, which spotted the u-boat sitting motionless on the surface just off the Cornish coast in the evening. Just as he was giving the order to sink the unsuspecting German vessel, Lieutenant Augustine Grant spotted something that gave him pause. Through perspective of Grant’s binoculars, the audience got a troubling view of UB-65 on its final voyage. Before anything even happened, it was already tilting heavily to one side in the water. Despite how hazardous it was, an officer was seen standing up on its deck and staring off into the sea. Before his men even finished loading the submarine’s torpedo tubes, Grant observed UB-65 violently shake as if hit by a huge explosion before sinking beneath the waves.

AB quirked an eyebrow, “Wait, so did Richter blow up the ship? What even happened?”

“Probably some kinda malfunction or one of their torpedoes suddenly goin’ off without warning.”, Babs suggested. “Not like it hasn’t happened with this ship before.”

“Okay, but how does that explain the Americans seeing Richter’s ghost even though they didn’t know about him?”, questioned Scootaloo.

For the next hour, L2 sailed back and forth in search of any survivors but found none; the entire crew had gone down with the ship.

Being reminded of the human element of this story they’d forgotten about made all the fillies’ previous questions fizzle away.

“I should probably count my lucky stars that things turned out the opposite way when my school burned down.”, acknowledged Babs.

“Might have turned out that way for those sailors too if their captains actually cared about their safety.”, Scootaloo muttered bitterly.

It drove her nuts learning how much of reality was beyond her control and the idea of people who actually had some agency choosing not to heed all the red flags and making all their underlings suffer the consequences was downright sickening.

Almost ninety years later, their metallic underwater tomb was rediscovered in 2004 by a British documentary crew. The wreck was inspected by a renowned nautical historian who found no signs of damage nor anything that indicated UB-65 being sunk by enemy action. Though, she did some evidence that some of the crew had tried and failed to escape the vessel as it was sinking. That last tidbit elicited all manner of pity from the girls.

“There goes my theory, I guess.”, Babs thought to herself.

What was more surprising than that was the fact that other U-boats of the Imperial German fleet have also experienced something supernatural. The narrator cited an incident from two months prior to the loss of UB-65. The HMS Coreopsis rescued the crew of the sinking UB-85 off the coast of Belfast. The U-boat’s captain would later claim to his interrogators that an attack by a vicious sea monster is what caused his vessel to sink.

According to him, as the ship was resurfacing something emerged from the water and climbed up onto the decking. In the accompanying image, coiled around the ship was a massive serpent with horns and, according to the captain’s description, glowing red eyes; it’s wide open mouth displayed rows of razor sharp teeth and a long forked tongue. This monster had pulled the bow under the waterline, flooding the open hatches. Thankfully, a steady barrage of gunfire managed to scare the creature off, though it caused further damage to the submarine as it crashed back into the water and the crew spent next few hours trying to keep it afloat before eventually being captured.

“So they don’t have any protocol for sea monsters? They got manuals on that in the Equestrian navy, it’s standard.”

“There’s just a lotta creatures we take for granted here that are seen as myth by humans.”, AB answered her cousin.

Despite the ridicule and accusations of inventing this story to cover for his own shortcomings, the German U-boat captain insisted till his dying breath that it was all true.

“Weird that I can actually relate to this guy.”, Scootaloo said.

“Why? Met a sea monster before?”, Babs asked.

“No. But when I’ve gotten in trouble, nopony ever believed me when I’ve tried shifting the blame onto a monster either.”

When the wreck of the submarine was discovered in 2016, analysis once again unable to determine any obvious cause for its sinking.

“Does that prove him right or discredit him?”, Apple Bloom wondered.

The commander of U-28 also gave an eyewitness account of a huge sea creature. This one he supposedly saw get hurtled from the sea into the air by the explosion of the British steamer called Iberian, which he had torpedoed.

While together this all may sound compelling, it is important to remember the stresses of operating a U-boat. For weeks at a time, U-boat crew had to live in cramped, unsanitary conditions with the threat of death always near even in non-combat situations and the chances of survival or rescue were minimal. This of course took a heavy toll on sailors’ physical and mental health. With this in mind, was it possible that this stress generated some form of mass hysteria that spread through the ranks of the commanders and crew alike?

“I hope I never set hoof on any of these things in my life.”, Babs said.

“Me neither.”, added Apple Bloom

Scootaloo remembered how far-fetched mass hysteria sounded as an explanation when it had been applied in the Mad Gasser case. The narrator was also skeptical of this explanation given that these occurrences were confirmed by entire crews and not just individuals. These men had nothing to gain from fabricating their accounts of Richter’s ghost. Nothing except ridicule. Though it should be noted that those who were transferred for talking about the specter turned out to be the lucky ones. This combined with the results of examining the wrecks seems to point to something more mysterious.

He then concluded that whatever the answers are regarding UB-65’s fate had sunk to the sea floor along with its wreckage, which now served as a monument to the bravery of its crew.

“May they rest in peace.”

Scootaloo breathed a sigh of relief now that it was finally over.

“I feel like we ain’t got an explanation for what this First World War was about.”, criticized Apple Bloom. “Same with World War Two, actually.”

Scootaloo turned to her and asked, “Do you really want a history course just to understand a ghost story?”

“Good point.”

Babs was indifferent to that question.

“Personally, I just hope that my sista is retired from naval duty by the time these things start showin’ up in our world.”

Once the conversation died down, the time came for Apple Bloom to blindly pick the final story for the night. She got an awful feeling from the title she ended up landing on.

What Happened To The Sodder Children?

Author's Note

Funny thing is that a new chapter was originally going to come out sooner. But a major change in plans forced to scrap my rough draft and do the poll winner a few chapters earlier than originally planned.

Thankfully, I’ve been getting better at paraphrasing and sticking more to the significant details, so that made the rewriting process less painful. It also means you get a quicker read than usual. I’m thinking this will become the norm from this point on.

I figured that since this chapter’s ending was so uneventful, it wouldn’t hurt to reveal the next story at the end. I figured you guys would appreciate that.

Author’s Note: Cast Your Vote [CLOSED]

Author's Note

Update: This poll is now closed; the audience has officially spoken.

Author’s Note: Cast Your Vote [CLOSED]

So, before I begin the next chapter, I’ve decided to let you readers make a choice on which story they will react to next. There are two options that will be given which you must vote on by commenting down below. And if you can, try to briefly describe your reasons why you chose one over the other, though that won’t be mandatory. This vote will be open until tomorrow night after I post this. After a certain point it will be closed.

With all that explained, let me present you with your two options:

The Lair of the Wendigo.
Someone on the previous chapter requested this in the comments and ultimately made good points for including in this fic. I will admit that this story does suit the current month of snowy December. Exposing the crusaders to the idea of Cannibalism is definitely going to get interesting reactions from them. The abilities the wendigo also possesses in this video is another thing that could make crusaders’ skin crawl.

Eleven.
This is the one I was originally planning on doing. I was especially interested in writing Apple Bloom’s reaction to this one. But I have to consider the possibility that the subject matter and the way it’s portrayed might be a little too heavy, even for a T-rated fic. It’s also hard for me to imagine that the crusaders’ would so easily transition to the next video after that; they’d probably be hesitant to watch any more Bedtime Stories (though they still will, so don’t let that last persuade you. One last thing this video has going against it is that the last true crime story was more recent than the last cryptid/monster story; the next true crime story after this one will also come sooner than the next monster one.

Once again comment your vote down below and maybe make an argument for the story chose.

Now let’s get voting!