The Changing of Sweet Apple Acres

by Rinderin

Rating: mature
Tags: Applejack, Thriller, Gore, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Winona, Horror, Violence, Death
Length: 4439

Applejack has been missing for hours. When she returns, she is... different. But change is good, afterall.

"Please Applejack, don't do this," Apple Bloom begged.

"Don't worry, change is good," it replied.

Set during the events of It Curdles

Please support the author (montag451) of the art used in this cover here:
https://www.deviantart.com/montag451/art/Razzle-Dazzle-XVII-828440591

Published 2021-09-26 19:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-16 22:05:51 UTC

Worm in the Wood

Birth

Death

Rebirth

The Changing of Sweet Apple Acres

Chapter 1: Worm in the Wood

Apple Bloom skittered nervously towards the barn window. Applejack had specifically instructed her to stay hidden until she returned, but after hours of laying prone behind a cider barrel, her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her.

A terrible orange glow poured into the barn from the agape second floor window as if in some cruel mockery of Luna’s moon.

“The fires haven’t stopped then,” Apple Bloom thought to herself as she progressed towards the window, a distinctly deep sense of dread culminating in her chest.

As she closed in on the windowsill, Applejack’s instructions rung in her head like a clarion bell, urging her back to her hiding spot. Something else also stirred within Apple Bloom, further filling her with doubt.

Did she truly want to know what was outside?

A sudden, howling gale of wind poured through the window, scattering hay and dust alike. Apple Bloom jumped back in response, covering her eyes from the swelling debris. To her surprise, the pungent scent of smoke and ash entered her nostrils, eliciting a small crinkle of her nose.

“But that would mean that the fire is getting closer,” Apple Bloom thought to herself, as an overwhelming sense of despair overtook her.

Whatever was happening out there, it had become all too clear that the Elements had failed to stop it.

Apple Bloom wanted nothing more than to crawl back into her hiding spot. To cower and hide. Surely Applejack would return soon, and everything would okay.

“Surely,” Apple Bloom thought.

And yet, against her own volition, something tugged at her to dare a glance outside. To her surprise, Apple Bloom took a hoof step forward.

And then another.

And yet another.

Before another doubtful thought could enter her head, she found herself stood just beneath the windowsill. The smell of smoke was even stronger than before, and the once dim orange glow seemed to have brightened dramatically, lighting up even the darkest corners of the barn.

“Well shoot, guess ah’ve come this far,” Apple Bloom said aloud, before mustering just enough courage to stand on her hind legs and perch on the edge of the windowsill.

The first thing she noticed was the heat. She’d expected a mild swelter, but this felt as though she’d put her head straight into an oven.

The second was the smell. Smoky, putrid air overwhelmed Apple Bloom’s nasal cavities, and she quickly found herself struggling to breathe. She coughed and wheezed as the smog found its way into her lungs. It took all of Apple Bloom’s strength to cling to the windowsill.

But there was something else too. A repulsive, fetid odour hung in the air, piercing even the terrible must of the smoke.

Apple Bloom recognized the smell all too well. A few weeks ago, Winona had brought back the broken body of a young squirrel. The poor creature had clearly died days prior and had begun to rot in the sweltering heat of the open sun. As the maggots had already begun their feast, so too had the flies made nest in the squirrel’s gaping chest cavity, laying eggs in the hundreds.

It stank of death and decay.

As did the Ponyville air.

It was then, that the true horror of whatever had befallen Ponyville dawned upon her.

Some hundred paces down the road, through the swirling torrents of wind and smoke laid a pile of rotting beasts, stacked higher than even the tallest tree in Sweet Apple Acres.

In and amongst the bodies, Apple Bloom could just about make out a creature with tufts of brown and white fur, dabbled in shades of dark crimson.

“Winona?” Apple Bloom thought, as bile rose to her throat.

Apple Bloom flung herself away from the window and emptied her stomach on the barn floor as tears streamed down her face.

She half wretched half sobbed as the terrible reality of Winona’s fate ran circles in her mind.

“What happened out there? Where’s Mac ‘n Applejack? Why couldn’t they save her?” Apple Bloom sobbed aloud, crawling towards where she had previously hid.

Suddenly, somewhere below her, the barn door swung open with tremendous force, rattling the wooden floorboards under Apple Bloom’s hooves.

She froze, prone and in the open, bathed in the terrible orange glow of the inferno raging outside.

“Like a sitting duck,” Apple Bloom realized in a moment of pure dread.

And yet, any movement on the rickety set of wooden planks would surely give away her position to whatever had just opened the barn door. Apple Bloom turned her eye to a hole in the floorboard beneath her and dared a glance below.

The barn door stood wide open, with small tendrils of smoke leaking into the building from outside. Illuminated by the swirling amber of the fires raging outside, Apple Bloom could clearly see most of the barn’s interior.

From where she lay prone Apple Bloom couldn’t quite see beyond the door itself, but, for now at least, it seemed as though nopony had entered the barn.

An eternity seemed to pass without incident.

Until a terrible screaming echoed from just outside the barn.

The wailing, much like the smoke, seemed to distort and twist in pitch: at times resembling a guttural growl and at others, a terrible agonized screech.

“Apple Bloom don’t look at them…” somepony managed in a sputtering of clear speech and the same terrible distortion as before.

Apple Bloom recognized the voice immediately.

“Applejack! Ah’m still up here, just like ya told me!” Apple Bloom exclaimed, rushing excitedly towards the ladder leading downstairs.

Applejack howled violently before seemingly crashing against the frame of the barn door. The sudden noise stopped Apple Bloom in her tracks.

“…don’t look at me, or you’ll change too,” Applejack muttered with a pang of desperation, before falling silent.

“You’ll change too? What is that supposed to mean?” Apple Bloom pondered.

Apple Bloom carefully backed away from the ladder, as an ominous silence once again filled every corner of the barn. Suddenly, she felt her hoof give way, and before she could react, Apple Bloom crashed backwards, hitting her head against the metal lining of the cider barrel she had previously hidden behind.

Stars flooded her vision as she struggled to regather herself.

A thud from below her shook her back to reality, as her eyes rested on the cause of her fall: her own bile from earlier.

“Don’t worry Apple Bloom. Change is good,” something said from underneath her.

On the surface, the voice sounded like Applejack. But Apple Bloom knew immediately that whatever thing had just spoken was most certainly not her sister.

Another thud.

“It’s goin’ for the ladder!” Apple Bloom realized, flinging herself towards the railing of the barn’s second floor.

In response, the thing below also picked up its pace, dragging itself towards the ladder at an unnatural speed.

In her haste, Apple Bloom crashed against the ricket wooden railing, just about finding the dexterity to steady herself before desperately placing a hoof on the ladder’s topmost step. A sharp pain shot through her hoof, eliciting a shriek from the panicked filly, who promptly thrust the ladder away from her with every ounce of strength she had left.

Miraculously, the ladder toppled backwards. Applejack wailed as the ladder crashed into a pile of farming equipment below.

Apple Bloom wailed in agony as strobes of fiery pain raced through her left forehoof. She just about managed to lean against the barn wall, teeth grated in torment. The pain seemed to go straight to the nerve endings in her bone, before climbing up to her shoulder.

A terrible groaning erupted from where the ladder had fallen. Metal clattered and chimed as heavy farming tools, frequently used by the likes of Big Mac, were flung aside like a filly’s playthings.

“It writhes. Change is good,” the voice half screamed half whispered from below.

In an almost dreamlike trance, Apple Bloom watched in horror as the ladder slowly raised and promptly docked against the second-floor railing. The ladder shuddered once, and then again.

And again.

“It’s freakin’ climbing!” Apple Bloom realized, scouring her surroundings for an escape.

Her eyes rested on the bellowing, smoke-filled portal to the hellscape outside that was the barn’s window.

Another shudder, this time louder.

The fall might kill her.

Another shudder.

But that thing certainly would.

It groaned, this time startlingly close to the top of the ladder.

Before she could second guess herself again, Apple Bloom sprung to her hooves and dragged herself through the window.

For a moment she felt herself fall, and then, there was only darkness.

Apple Bloom awoke face down in what she hoped to be a pile of mud.

In a daze, she tried to stand, but a terrible pain in her hindleg caused her to crumple back to the ground.

Despite blurred vision, Apple Bloom could just about make out the silhouette of her leg. Blood seeped from an open wound near her hoof where the end of what seemed like a garden claw had embedded itself.

Apple Bloom bit her lips, before scanning her surroundings.

The fire had finally reached the outer trees of the orchard. Fortunately, it seemed as though the wind had finally changed direction, providing some measure of relief from the stink of smoke and decay. Better still, the pain in her forehoof had subsided somewhat.

Pain in her hoof… The thing!

Apple Bloom glanced up at the gaping void that was the barn door. Somehow, despite the light from the fires, the barn’s interior had been encapsulated in some unimaginable darkness.

She had fallen right in front of it.

A horrible sense of dread filled Apple Bloom as she gazed into the barn’s interior. And yet, she found herself unable to look away, as though something inside was calling out to her very being.

A groan sounded from within, and then a loud crash.

“It must have fallen from the second floor,” Apple Bloom thought, still unable to tear herself away from the sight.

A thud echoed from within the barn. Then another.

“It’s coming,” Apple Bloom realized.

Another thud, this time much closer.

A body crashed into Apple Bloom, breaking her trance, and sending her sprawling to the floor.

Covered in soot, and with a crazed look in his eyes, Big Macintosh clamped his jaws firmly around the gardening claw embedded Apple Bloom’s leg, before tearing it free.

A guttural, agonized shriek escaped Apple Bloom, as she struggled to fight back another wave of bile.

Big Mac tossed the claw aside, and nudged her away from the barn’s door frame, his once crazed look changing into one of relief.

“Go,” he said before, in a trance, his head slowly turned towards the barn door. Big Mac’s eyes widened, and before Apple Bloom could react, he walked headlong into the barn.

A terrible groaning emanated from the barn, followed be a wet, crunching sound.

Big Mac cried in agony, before silence once again overtook Sweet Apple Acres.

Tears streamed down Apple Bloom’s face as she crawled away from the barn.

An all too familiar thud echoed from within the barn, starting Apple Bloom to her hooves.

Hobbling towards the gloomy, ash coated trees of the orchard, Apple Bloom could faintly hear her siblings call to her from the barn.

“It curdles, but change is good.”

Change is good.

Author's Note

Hey there!

This was originally supposed to be a oneshot in line with its predecesor, It Curdles.

However, as I was writing this, a devious thought entered my lil cranium.
Maybe, just maybe there's a larger story to be told here.

Anyways, thanks for reading this far, and I hope to see ya around in the future! :applecry:

Masquerade for Maggots

Chapter 2: Masquerade for Maggots

A lingering terror tore at Apple Bloom’s heart as she tore through thickets, branches, and bushels.

Around her, asides from the smoke piercing her nostrils, everything seemed normal. The inferno had yet to reach this side of the orchard, and, between the deep red apples hanging aloft in their trees, and the green untouched grass below, one could almost be fooled into thinking that everything was indeed normal.

Yet, Apple Bloom’s memory betrayed her, as tears brayed at the ducts for release.

Big Mac’s emerald green eyes filled her head. She could see him now, looking at her in a mixture of hope and terror. He blinked, and turned away from her, before turning his head toward the gaping void that was the barndoor.

And then, he was gone.

Gone because of that… thing.

As the tears she had battled to contain broke loose, Apple Bloom upped her pace, evading the increasingly blurry shapes of the orchard’s prized apple trees.

She couldn’t focus on what had happened.

Not now.

For now, she needed to run.

“But where?” she thought.

And then, before Apple Bloom could react, she found herself spinning.

Spinning, and falling.

She hit the ground with a thud, the momentum propelling her further forward. Something sharp tore at her side, but her cry of pain was cut short by another crushing impact, this time on her already injured hindleg.

For a moment, Apple Bloom caught a glance of the ground below racing toward her.

Then, darkness overtook her.

Apple Bloom awoke somewhere in-between heaven and hell.

In front of her, lain bare, was the ever-expanding cosmic soup of stars that constituted Luna’s night sky. Wherever she had ended up, the scorching flames that emanated from the charred husk that was central Ponyville were seemingly nowhere to be seen.

“How far did I run?” Apple Bloom wondered.

Beneath her, the comforting texture of dirt and wet grass served as a mattress, wherein, for a brief fleeting moment, the terrors of the evening subsided.

Apple Bloom knew all too well that such bliss was temporary.

The taste of iron gradually made itself more present in her mouth as a thunderous, pounding headache mirrored every move she made. She gently rubbed a tentative hoof against the back of her head in an effort to feel out any potential injuries. A sudden sting made Apple Bloom jump as she immediately retracted her hoof.

Apple Bloom gasped. A fresh layer of blood, illuminated by the piercing moonlight, coated her hoof.

To make matters worse, a distant, throbbing pain gnawed and echoed from her hindleg. The three-pronged wound, which was now coated in mud and grime, had, for the most part, stopped bleeding.

As the adrenaline slowly faded from her system so did the pain grow in intensity.

“Move… Ah have to move,” Apple Bloom managed through grated teeth.

She slowly pulled herself from the muddy mess she’d fallen in to. She cut a wayward glance toward the hill she had so carelessly tumbled down. It was a looming piece of earth to be sure, towering over the surrounding Ponyville countryside.

The sound of rushing water somewhere behind her caught Apple Bloom’s attention. She turned around, her eyes widening in fear and recognition.

Before her, past a babbling brook which ran adjacent to a cobbled path, was the foreboding mass of trees that encompassed the Everfree Forest.

“Everfree in front… Acres behind… Ah must be south of Ponyville then,” Apple Bloom reasoned aloud.

The woods seemed to twist and turn in some endless macabre dance. And yet, compared to the horrors she had just witnessed, the oaky smell of the forest seemed almost inviting.

“Plan. Ah need a plan,” she thought.

Going back to the Acres, or Ponyville itself for that matter, was simply out of the question. If the flames enveloping the town were half as bad as they seemed from afar, she reckoned that she would succumb to the suffocating smog long before she even reached the outskirts. That was if those things didn’t find her first.

The reality of the situation bore down on her all at once. Ponyville was gone. Everything and every pony she cared about had probably either died in the fires or had been… changed.

She was alone. All alone. Surely, she would perish soon. Very soon.

The throbbing in her hind-leg worsened. She felt as though her leg was imploding from the inside.

Very soon, indeed.

“Stop it! You’ve got ah responsibility. Apple Jack and Macintosh couldn’t have died for nothing,” she thought, battling the tears clawing at the corners of her eyes.

Canterlot. She needs to get to Canterlot. There she can tell the princesses what happened. There she will be safe.

Surely.

Apple Bloom sat next to the babbling brook, where she pawed at the mud. Splattering icy cold muck on her face, she drew a rough map of Equestria.

“C-a-n-t-e-r-lot,” she spelled aloud. Perfect, just like she’d learnt in Cheerilee’s schoolhouse.

She shuddered at the thought of what had become of her old school. Apple Bloom swept the intrusive thought as soon as it had arrived.

“Focus. Canterlot is North of Ponyville. No way ah’ll be able to make it through the town without running into trouble. Can’t go through the Acres. Can’t go South,” she thought.

Apple Bloom looked up toward the twisting mass of trees ahead.

“Ah’ll have to go around. Through the Everfree.”

Apple Bloom gulped as she felt her heart slide into her bowels.

She’d made it this far. There was no turning back anymore. Brave the woods or die, leaving the deaths of her family in vain.

Apple Bloom stared into the woods and couldn’t fight the feeling that something was staring back. And yet, compared to the horrors she had seen back at the Acres, the Everfree seemed somewhat tame.

Shakily, but bravely, she stood to her full height.

She was going to survive.

Apple Bloom took a step into the icy cold current of the brook. The waters stung.

It felt great.

With a few more steps she found herself on the other side of the stream’s bank. The forest loomed over her.

With a determined look on her face, Apple Bloom shook the moisture from her coat, and set off into the swarming abyss of the Everfree Forest.

Author's Note

Hi everyone!

I know this chapter is a little on the short side, given how long it has been since the first.

Having said that, much of the time I've spent on this project since the last upload was embroiled in planning.

The story now has a clear beginning, middle, and end. As such, expect new chapters sooner, rather than later.

Thanks for sticking around, and I'll see ya in the next one. :applecry:

Fury of the Flame

Chapter 3: Fury of the Flame

The pungent smell of burning fur reached Scootaloo before the pain.

Much of the schoolhouse had already collapsed in the hellish inferno, but she had managed to squeeze underneath the sturdy frame of the class’s fallen chalkboard, shielding herself from flaming debris.

“Why would she lock the door?” she thought as the smoke-filled air stung her nostrils.

—----------------------------------------------

The day had started like any other.

Scootaloo had been falling behind in class for some time now, so it hardly surprised her when Miss Cheerilee requested she attend extra tuition over the weekend. Scootaloo hadn’t minded too much.

She loved her teacher—in some ways, Cheerilee even reminded her of her own mother. Even when Cheerilee had begun to act… differently.

A vacant stare here and there, a smile that at times lasted just a moment too long.

But Scootaloo knew very well that Cheerilee and Big Mac had been going through a rough time recently, even if neither would admit it. Even grown-up ponies lose their way sometimes.

Today, though, her normally resolute yet optimistic mentor had been nearly unrecognizable.

Scootaloo had entered the schoolhouse to find Snips, Snails, and Featherweight already seated at their desks in silence. The quiet had surprised her—usually, the devious duo were almost impossible to stop from talking.

"Take your seat, Scootaloo," demanded a voice that, by all accounts, sounded like Miss Cheerilee.

And yet, Scootaloo could not shake the feeling that something was off. Cheerilee’s tone was harsh, commanding, even dominating; a stark contrast to her usual cheerful demeanor.

Scootaloo did as she was told and scampered sheepishly to her desk. She unpacked her notebook from her saddlebag, not daring to lift her gaze to meet that of her tutor. Every feathery whisper of her notebook, every rustle of her writing utensils in her unorganized saddlebag, every single breath she took seemed to echo throughout the classroom.

The silence surrounding her felt deafening, and Scootaloo could not help but feel that every pair of eyes in the suddenly claustrophobic schoolhouse were aimed directly at her. The classroom seemed to spin and whirl around her as she stared at the blank notebook spread before her.

An eternity passed as seconds melted into hours. Or were they days? No, months.

Years?

A loud slam shook Scootaloo back to her senses. She gasped, lurching forward onto her desk, sending her notebook to the floor. Gulping for air, she hazily heard a colt’s voice squeak through the quietness.

"Snails, open your eyes! Princesses... How long have we been out?" a voice, recognizable as Snips', managed between strained gasps.

Scootaloo could just about make out Featherweight’s lithe form laid out on the classroom floor, unmoving.

The next moments were a hailstorm of chaos.

Serpent-like tendrils of coal-black smoke began to seep through every crack and crevice, quickly filling the classroom. All at once, the schoolhouse’s windows shattered under the immense heat of the growing inferno. Shards of knife-like glass scattered throughout the classroom, embedding themselves into stools, desks, and flesh.

Somewhere in the chaos, Scootaloo had managed to recover her senses enough to scramble behind her desk. Through the growing smog, she could just make out the stocky outline of a unicorn colt reaching for the front door.

“Snips… don’t…” Scootaloo managed through increasingly smoke-filled breaths, but the thunderous roar of the fire drowned her words.

A scream of unimaginable pain echoed through the schoolhouse as Snips recoiled from the door, falling against and tipping over Cheerilee’s rustic desk. A flurry of papers erupted unceremoniously from the desk, fluttering throughout the schoolhouse.

Scootaloo could only watch as the paper caught flame, followed by the schoolhouse's once jade green curtains. Within the blink of an eye, the classroom had erupted into a sea of fire. Featherweight, who had not moved since the start of the fire, was the first to be enveloped by the inferno as his mane, and soon the rest of his coat, began to burn.

They were being cooked alive.

She dared not look any longer.

“Move. I have to move,” thought Scootaloo, as something deep within her stirred. It was the most basic of instincts: not just the will, but the need to live. She scrambled to her feet, gulped what would likely be her last mouthful of somewhat tolerable air, and scanned the room.

To her left, Snails remained sprawled over his desk. For a moment, Scootaloo thought about trying to move him. But she was too small, and the smoke was growing thicker by the moment.

Movement in the smoke caught her attention. Scootaloo could just about discern Snips' writhing form using Cheerilee’s desk as a backrest amidst moans of agony.

Scootaloo scrambled toward him as the floorboards creaked and complained with every hoofstep. The schoolhouse was slowly but surely giving in to the flames, and before long they would be entombed under a smoldering pile of debris.

Outside, the inferno had seemingly tripled in its ferocity with flames reaching well beyond the upper limits of the schoolhouse’s window frames.

‘Something isn’t right. Where’s Rainbow Dash and the rest of The Elements? Surely they would have seen the fire by now,’ Scootaloo thought as she neared the edge of the desk.

She dropped next to her classmate and swiped at the soot gathering on the corners of her stinging eyes.

“Snips, why aren’t The Elements here? Do you think something—”

The words fell from her tongue like blood from a wound as her eyes settled on what remained of Snips.

Flames had seared him to the bone along the left half of his body, leaving in their wake a mangled mess of charred flesh and blisters filled to the brim, threatening to burst. Between strained gasps for air, a thin whistling sound escaped through the colt’s exposed ribcage as Snips’ lungs struggled in the ever-thickening smog.

Scootaloo gagged once, twice, before emptying her stomach next to the desk.

“Help… Scootaloo… Please,” Snips somehow managed with the blackened remnants of his teeth and tongue.

She knew he was well beyond saving.

“I… Snips… I’m so sorry,” Scootaloo sputtered as equal parts bile and misery tore at the back of her throat.

Snips reached for her, but Scootaloo had already scrambled away from the desk. She had to leave—somehow, she had to get out.

And then she spotted it: the classroom’s hefty chalkboard had collapsed and by some miracle had caused a noticeable dent in the schoolhouse’s plank flooring.

The building shook and groaned in agony. As if in response, the roof began to cave in, scattering flaming debris throughout the classroom. Scootaloo scrambled to her feet as the smoke filled her lungs. A wayward piece of shattered roof tiling slipped through the crumbling support beams above and embedded itself in her flank.

Pain brought to life action as Scootaloo flung herself toward the chalkboard.

—----------------------------------------------

Scootaloo glanced at her flank with a strained grimace; much of her coat had been seared and the wicked-sharp tile had firmly lodged itself between muscle and sinew. Above her, the chalkboard —despite its sturdy oak frame and paneling— buckled and heaved under the increasing weight of the debris from the failing schoolhouse’s roof.

Now or never.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, Scootaloo threw her full force into the damaged flooring. To her surprise, the plank immediately gave way in an avalanche of soot, splinters, and pieces of chalk.

Spilling out from underneath the schoolhouse like a newborn foal, Scootaloo fell atop the plank, shielding herself from a bosom of flames before tumbling unceremoniously down the building’s hill into a thicket of weeds.

Her eyes settled on the erratic dancing of flames and smoke in the evening sky as she drifted into the blanket-like embrace of unconsciousness.

Darkness settled over her vision, and somewhere amidst the cacophony of screams and smoldering timber emerged a familiar voice.

"Change is good.”