In my eyes, when the lights are out, there’s still a ghost of it in the violated sanctuary of my resting eyes. Has it come back?
It was a cool day in the Autumn. The days when winds seized the bones as they ran through the fields and the woods carrying the leaves. The colors were orange and purple, and the sun seemed to die in the sky as a darkness advanced over our heads. Pinkie Pie and Applejack had announced a new pastry to bring some warmth to the heart to chase away the encroaching nights. On my way with friends to see these treasured tarts, a wind blew through the streets past me, and it saw me.
No other pony seemed to stop for this monster, but it was there. It crouched in the dark, shaded from the muted sun in an alley. A face like a skull, maybe, or, maybe, like wood. Gnarled as if by lightening. It waited for some pony to see it, and that pony was me. My voice was caught in my throat. The tensing muscles of my body panicking at the horror stripping me of any autonomy. When the moment passed, and my mates stopped to see what was the matter, I cried out, pointing,
“Do you see it?”
“What?” said Inglenook, the Earth pony I desired.
“That!”
But nothing was there.
“What’re you talking about, Rosie?” Evergreen asked with a look of concern
“Nothing, I thought I saw something.”
And, it seemed to be nothing. What does one say when something was there, that shouldn’t be, but everything rights itself the next moment? Sighing, relieved that it was nothing, my eyes closed to find some salve from it’s own delusions. There it was. In the dark, staring me down, the creature that lived in my eyes.
As the journey to Pinkie Pie’s bakery continued, it took all of my willpower to never blink. Every blink revealed to me that evil thing, just slightly closer. So focused was my mind that the cold and the wind faded away to a dull stillness. The light became grey, and my companions mere blurs. Tears came to my eyes. They burned. Fearing further questioning, I fell behind the others. Just slightly. One of the blobs in front of me stopped, and Inglenook’s voice came out from it,
“There’s so many ponies here. Want to wait?”
“I don’t know,” said Evergreen, the unicorn, “It’s too cold out here.”
“What about you? Rosehip, you okay?”
The question stirred me from my stupor,
“Oh, I’m kind of tired, actually. Sorry. We can come back tomorrow, can’t we?”
“Alright, how about we just get something to drink, then?”
“I’ll probably skip out. I’m tired.”
“Oh, okay. What about you Evergreen, want to get something?”
“Sure.” She turned, “Nini, Rosie.”
“Yeah, night.”
“Stay safe.” Her face was filled with concern.
The walk back was not lonely. It was there. The night was no better. Sleep was impossible. Every wink was met with that face. That face that kept coming closer, but only when my eyes were closed. That ghostly thing would creep over the veins as it approached, a white face of some beast. In my mind, it was clear this thing was a predator, it’s goal resolute in some primitive recess of my mind. The horror that lay in my sleep kept me awake all night in a state of increasing exhaustion.
At sometime the next day, there came a knock at the door. Evergreen was there. She gazed at the ground and paced.
“Hey, how're you holding up?”
“Lousy, I couldn’t sleep. How was last night?”
“Oh, it was fun. You okay?”
“Yeah, just bad dreams.”
“I had those once. I talked to that zebra, and she helped me. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked out of it last night.”
“Thanks.”
Evergreen looked at me and hushed, “Yeah, well, later, Rosie.”
The door closed, back to the dim shadows of my own house. The zebra. Maybe she would know. Yes. She had to. It was chasing that desperate hope that my day was spent wandering the Everfree forest. By this time of year, the leaves had already mostly fallen, leaving a forest of bones stretching up towards the sky. The winding paths and deep shadows left me disorientated as my forlorn trek continued through the woods. It was the early evening by the time her home came into view. By that time, the burning white face was a ghost in my waking vision. There wasn’t much time left.
The zebra was outside tending to her garden. The rough mane and garish stripes awakened a strange xenophobic repulsion inside my heart. She looked up at me as I approached, and her face filled with noticeable shock.
“You carry an evil thing with you, pony.”
“Can you see it?”
“I see it, and I see you. I suppose you want to rid yourself of it?”
“I can’t stop seeing it.”
“Others like you have come.”
“How do I stop it?”
“You die.”
“I can’t!”
“Then you give it something else to eat, like the others.”
“How?”
“I told you. Now go, I can’t stand your eyes.”
“The beast?”
“No, yours. Go back to your village, like the others.”
Her words made me want to say more, but there was more important things to take care of. This thing. It had to feed, and it couldn’t be me. But, who? The thought haunted me as I trudged back to my house for another sleepless night.
The second night was worse. By that time, the delusions began. In my eyes and in my ears, things began to dance. My home had become a macabre theater of illusions. It was now fully impossible to close my eyes. The face was now just upon me, blocking out the darkness with the ashen glow of an evil hunger that desired my soul. My flesh.
Inglenook! Inglenook, please save me. Why did he come to my thoughts? Why do I see him? Can he same me? I’m as invisible to him as this beast is to every other pony. So why does he come to my thoughts? As my mind turned to some hero, sleep forced itself upon my mind.
It was dark when my eyes were ripped open against my will. It was upon the floor that my body lie when it woke me. Hooks of an inky blackness raked my eyelids down. They snaked out of my eyes into physical reality. First the claws, then the legs, then the head, and finally the tail. A black creature that crawled upon the walls like all the shadows dragged itself out of my eyes and onto the walls. It walked in a jagged fashion towards the door and disappeared into the night with not a single hindrance from wood or stone. When my eyes finally closed, the whiteness behind my eyes was gone. Rest finally came to me.
It was a week later we found him. Inglenook. His body mangled in bed. His intestine ripped from his body like a pig to slaughter. His face was at peace as if he had passed in his sleep. Evergreen came to me again. We looked at each other, and knew. Knew we had fed others to things too evil to know. The night after the funeral, when I was finally alone and closed my eyes to sleep. It was there. A scar so very far away, but so very intent on its prey.
Please, save me from this evil.
