Do you remember waking up in the dark when you were a kid? The pure anxiety of seeing nothing but darkness, alone. Except you didn’t think you were alone; you knew you weren’t alone. There was something, always something, hiding out of your view, but you knew it was there. Even if you had your sibling in that room with you, you could feel something; a crawling feeling in your spine, the freezing of your blood, that alerted you to the inconceivable monster that lurked. Maybe your first thought was to hide under your covers, the shield, or run to your parents, the sword. Either were sufficient enough to drive away the presence, and keep you safe another night. But… I don’t have my sword anymore, and my shield has long since lost its protective coating since I’ve grown.
I am a grown mare sitting up in my bed. The moonlight from my window does no favors to me, and barely illuminates the loft. Spike sleeps soundly at the foot of my bed, but I don’t even think of waking him. Heck, I can’t even think of speaking, or to light my horn. When you get older, usually the fear of the dark is supposed to go away. You’re supposed to be your own sword, use your own common sense to know that there couldn’t possibly be a presence. There is no intention. There is nothing. But… I do not have that luxury.
I do not get the comfort of knowing nothing is there, because I know something is there. Something with intention. I can feel its eyes on me. The situation I find myself in almost feels surreal; like a dream. I almost thought it was a dream when I woke up, but the feeling of being watched is too real. I know it isn’t my head. I have not moved since I woke up, because I am afraid that if I move a single muscle it will know I am here, and that I am afraid. It’s toying with me, and I must play.
My ears strain and swivel as I stare down from my loft into the room below my bed. The light from the window is non-existent; the black sky of the clouded, new moon night provides nothing but…something akin to mocking. The night hues that stole the comfort of my home do not just stop at my office. The void that consumes the stairs leading to my library are also uncomfortable to look at, more so. If I made my eyes strain, I swear I could see something, a face? Something cold sinks into my body. The thought of not being able to distinguish its face from tricks of the shadows made my throat tighten with fear. The thought then occurred to me, I need to turn on a light. But…Spike would wake up. He’d have questions, questions I wasn’t ready to lie about or answer.
As slowly as my body would allow it, I turned my head to the dark mass in the basket beneath the blanket. He too was shrouded in shadow, looking nearly pitch black. I watched him for a few long moments. In the darkness it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. I caught myself staring at his form as it buzzed and meshed with the surrounding blackness. It was only when he took a particularly large breath in his sleep, like a sigh, did it quell my mind. I blinked, turned my head carefully back to its original position, and once more glanced over the room below me. Back to the stairwell. It still looked like something was there. That presence. That presence that made me feel like a kid again, back in my bedroom. I could barely hear my frozen heart in my tight chest, even less my breathing. I thought again. Maybe I should check the stairs, maybe I should check the library, just in case. Yes, then I could put my fear to bed, along with myself.
With this new objective, I remove the comforter, my shield, from my body. I feel exposed as I push my body off the bed as slowly as I can. It’s not until the bed squeaks that I realize how hard I’m clenching my teeth. I freeze, and look over at Spike. He hasn’t moved an inch since I last looked at him. I do not take my eyes off him as I continue to slide myself off the bed, and let one hoof touch the wooden floor, then the next, then the next, then my last hoof. I do not breathe a sigh of relief, my mission has only just started. I feel a tingling in my legs as I start to move. I feel like a child, sneaking out of my room at night to get a glass of water without waking anyone. As I press on and go down the stairs, each hoof moves painfully slow. Each individual clop of my hooves against the wood shoots another jolt of anxiety through me. I pray that Spike doesn’t hear me. One step creaks beneath my weight, and I freeze on the spot. The fur on my spine raises, and I can feel my shoulders tingle with anticipation for his voice. I do not move, like a bug waiting to see if a cat has seen them yet. The tension does not leave me when I hear nothing, and I finish my descent. I now stare into the dark tunnel of the stairwell, eyes wide and ears pricked. The face is gone. My heart lifts for a moment. But…as soon as my hoof raises to go back to my bed, I hear a noise. A step. The sound of weight settling on old wood at the bottom of the shadowy stairs.
My heart drops into my stomach like a block of ice. In the moment, I want to believe I didn’t hear something. That my brain, still groggy with sleep, made up the noise. That I’m simply hallucinating because of my paranoia. I try to come up with every rational explanation to calm my body, that has since become a statue in the dark. I stay still for a while. In the darkness there is no comprehension of time. Everything is still for a long, long time in the dark. The thought eventually clambers its way to the forefront of my mind; I need to check the library. The thought itself is enough to send chills down my spine. It’s necessary though, if someone really is here, I should check, shouldn’t I?
As slowly as I had before, I manage to work my legs into walking. The tree I called home feels like another planet as I enter the darkened passage into the library. My breaths are caught in my throat as I attempt to be even quieter and slower on the stairs. I don’t want it to hear me. My ears strain and swivel as I descend. It’s even darker in the library due to the lack of windows. If it weren’t for the small windows that bordered the ceiling, it would be pitch black. I stare into the darkness as I reach the last step, and briefly think of how wide my pupils must be in this light…or lack thereof. I scan the circle room for anything out of place as my eyes finally adjust…
The face I see in the darkness nearly makes me shriek from shock. My horn involuntarily flashes to life as I freeze in place, and bathes the room in washed-out magenta. I can finally hear my heart again as it drums against my tight rib cage, however I release my breath when I realize what I’d seen; the carved, wooden horse’s head that sat upon the center table. I heave a quiet sigh and try to slow my heart. It drums inside me in a way that almost hurts. I feel it reverberating in my whole body; against my spine, pushing my lungs to the side. I carefully walk up to the head and turn it to the side, so it’s no longer facing the stairs. Logically I tell myself that it’s just a carving, but something else answers back, that it will watch me if it faces me.
I do a once over of the library, now calmed by the dim light from my horn. I circle the table and examine the shelves. The thought crosses my mind to check under the table too, however I can’t bring myself to do it. The shadow that is being cast beneath it holds too much mystery, too much of the unknown. I keep myself from looking at it as best as possible, and refrain from walking to close, fearing a hoof, or claw, or other appendage would try to grab me. I don’t see a thing out of place on my journey. Nothing. There is nothing to worry about. There is nothing to be afraid of. I tell myself this is good enough, even though I know that is far from the truth. I tell myself that this check was enough, that the heaviness of sleep had simply tricked me into believing there was…
Out of the corner of my eye…movement. Clear, defined movement. My body freezes once again. Again I feel like a statue. My chest feels tight with anxiety, and at the same time like it’s hollow, like my lungs are filled with cotton. The tunnel to the kitchen is wide, but not nearly enough, or too wide. The magic glow from my horn does not reach the kitchen on the other side. The paralysis in my body forces my mind into a flurry of panicked thoughts; do I call the police? Do I get Spike? Do I go back upstairs and hope who or what is in here loses interest? How would I escape if I’m attacked? How…
My horn goes out. Through all my thinking I neglect to keep my horn alight. I feel even more alone in my home, yet I know I’m far from it, and that’s what scares me. As the light goes out it takes my eyes a minute to adjust in the dark once more, and my ears strain for a sound. I stand outside of the arch, watching, listening. I need something, anything, to confirm that I’m not alone. But…the fact I hear and see nothing makes me even more afraid. I am afraid.
By the time I reach the kitchen, I don’t even remember walking there. My eyes peer deeply into the void of a room, straining to pick out any sign of movement. The light in this room is no better than the library despite the huge window. It occurs to me how infrequently I step in here; this room is almost always occupied by Spike. I stop to briefly look at the pictures on the wall beside me, just above the fireplace. At least, I attempt to do so while squinting. All of them of something he’d done, the good and the bad; Spike with Peewee’s egg, Peewee’s hatching day, Spike and Peewee eating ice cream, myself looking down disapprovingly at Spike while he experiences a stomach ache after the bowl of ice cream fell on my head, and Spike returning Peewee to the nest. Reminiscing takes my mind off of my anxiety, if only for a small moment. I now feel that I would have felt much safer having him with me, or even Owlowiscious. But…there’s not much I could do about that now.
I look back into the darkness, and start treading further into the kitchen. It feels almost surreal as I watch my hooves take each step so quietly. I feel that nervous tingle in my spine. I feel like a filly again, sneaking into the kitchen for a glass of water. My throat feels dry. It doesn’t help that it’s even harder to navigate when the room itself is a darker wood than the rest of the library. My eyes pass over the shelves, counters, fridge, cabinets, finding nothing again. Not a single item disturbed. I look out the window, a view I do not look at often. Somehow it instills more discomfort into me as I look out at Ponyville. I step a little closer in the dark, only guided by the light of stars. A little closer still, I wonder if anyone could see me. I stop when I’m near the counter under the window, now wondering if maybe who or what was in here had...
I feel my heart jump into my throat when I see a face in the window, and let out a little stifled cry of surprise and fear, only to realize…it was just me. If I could laugh in the moment I would have, maybe even realized how silly the situation is, being afraid of what was probably nothing in my own home. But… I’m too afraid. I’m too scared to laugh. I simply stare at myself in the reflection for a few moments, feeling numbness in my hooves, and weakness in my shoulders. The hairs on my back rise as I feel like there’s something behind me, and I turn sharply, only to be faced with nothing once again. I consider running back to my bed again, this is too much.
And then…a breath. I hear it in the dark right in front of me. But I don’t feel the air of the room change. It’s like an isolated sound. I can’t even tell if it was from a mare or stallion. It was just…there. Again I scramble for answers, maybe my hoof scraped against the wood, no…I’d been frozen with indescribable fear. Maybe an animal…It sounded like it came from someone.
I don’t believe in ghosts, in fact this whole time I had been trying to keep my thoughts away from such things. It was impossible. Though now I think I had been trying to keep that fear at bay because the thought of a spirit made me even more fearful. The implications, let alone what I would even do if I found one. I decide to continue my disbelief. There has to be someone in here, I’m sure of it. At this point…I don’t care if it’s a prank. I’d be upset but it’s better than being in danger if nothing else. Heck, I would cry if Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash were here to comfort me. Everything would be normal, and I could go back to bed without fear.
Ultimately, I’m out of options. I’m going back to bed. Maybe I can convince Spike to stay in my bed tonight. I turn carefully and look at the four pictures of Spike above the fireplace again. Yeah…I’ll do that. I creep my way back under the arch to the library, taking a look around the room once again. Still, nothing had been moved. The carved horse’s head was still facing the stairs as usual, no books were knocked over. I turned the corner to start heading back up the steps into the void-like tunnel, keeping my eyes forward and my head straight, but…
A door closed, out of the corner of my eye. It made me stop completely in my tracks. The door to the storage room. I didn’t even think about it the first time I passed the room…had I even passed it? It wasn’t even shut all the way either, just enough to leave a sliver of black between the green-tinted door and its frame. I consider just ignoring it, leaving whoever was in there to leave on their own accord, steal or do whatever they wanted to do and go before confrontation. But… I need to check. I just need to check.
I quicken my pace as I walk to the door, maybe the sound of my hoovesteps would scare them away. It doesn’t take long for me to arrive at the door, though I stand in front of it for a few, long moments. Time doesn’t exist in the dark. Incomprehensible, even. The doorknob taunts me with the distorted visage of my terrified reflection. It knows I’m scared. I know I’m scared. I just need to check. I look back over my shoulder, everything is still in place; even the horse’s head I turned to look away from the stairs. I look back at the door, back at the black seam. In the dark, the room feels wider behind me. And at the same time I feel smaller, like the walls are closing in on me. The tense, hollow feeling in my chest becomes even tighter around my sinking heart. I feel a sickly knot in my stomach as my hoof reaches for the golden, brass knob. Do I even want to see what’s on the other side? My body feels cold and stiff as I think about letting go. I’m too far gone, I just need to commit. I just need to check. I pull the door open as slowly as I can, wincing at the soft, whining squeak the hinges emit.
My eyes stay wide, and I can feel how tight my jaw is as I peer into the windowless room. The light from the stars coming from the windows behind me is the only light that reaches, but certainly does not reach far enough. It is terrifyingly dark. A pitch, mind-numbing black. The wood feels cold, and the air in this room is stale. My shaky hooves barely keep me rooted as I try to comprehend what I’m seeing. Not even my eyes can adjust to this world. It feels like I’m not even supposed to be looking at this place, let alone be stepping into it. But… I knew I wasn’t alone…
I don’t want to, I know I shouldn’t. But…I let go of the doorknob and venture into the room. I drag my hooves along the floor to keep myself grounded, and squint for any sign of whatever is in here… Have you ever stepped on a mouse? Do you know the shrill squeak? The warm fuzzy body wriggling beneath your bare hoof? The tingling feeling that starts from your hooves to the top of your head? Well…I thought it was a mouse. I would have been relieved to find out it was a mouse. Even if it wasn’t, it would have given me some solace, some piece of mind. It was not a mouse.
I lift my hoof when I feel the thing try to pull out from under me. I know, from the way it moves, it was attached to something larger. I stumble back, and look to the door to make sure I have a clear escape…it is gone. The door is gone. Not even a sliver of light from the library underneath the door to signal it simply closed. The door does not exist. I’m alone, in a void, with this… thing. In a panic, my horn bursts to life to illuminate the room. I realize it’s the worst mistake I have made thus far. What I see makes my blood turn to ice, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. My whole body goes numb the moment I comprehend what I’m even looking at…though I’m still not sure.
The figure is gaunt, disgustingly skinny, skeletal. Its back faces me, and I follow it from its tail up its back, following the peaks and valleys of its spine. The color of my magic makes it impossible to tell what color the thing really was. It bathes both of us in a pale magenta. My heart sinks as I watch it move. The fact this thing is alive makes me feel uneasy. Dry, long, spindly hairs cling to the nearly bald tail and head. I swear there’s loose pieces around it too. My eyes are as wide as saucers. I feel cold tears derived from fear dot the corners of my eyes. The thing turns to me, revealing a sunken face. It looks like a corpse; no lips, a nose too wide, and irises that take up too much space, like it had been living in this room, this darkness, for centuries. Even its spiraling horn looks malnourished. I’m too afraid to feel pity. I think about how this thing had been watching me from the darkness, scrabbling behind the walls of my sight.
My fear turns to terror. As soon as I get a glimpse of its face I run. I turn around and run with my horn lighting the way. The room feels far too big. The wood beneath my hooves feels like concrete slabs. It becomes concrete slabs. Right before my eyes I squint, and watch the wood fade into smooth, cool stone. It feels like the room won’t end. There has to be an exit, this doesn’t make sense. Where is—
The door. The magic from my horn makes the brassy knob shine. Desperation and adrenaline only known to prey animals pushes me forward. I need to get out of this room. The closer I get to the door, the less ground I feel like I’m covering. Despite my legs working overtime, it feels like I’m only going at a jaunt, then a light gate, then walking speed. I do not look behind me. I do not want to know that the thing is still there. I reach for the door and swing it open as fast as I can. The library, just as I’d left it. My heart lifts for the first time in what feels like hours. I don’t care how much noise I make as I slam the door closed, squeezing my eyes shut and keeping my body pressed against the door in case the thing throws its own weight against it. But…nothing.
I wince my eyes open after a few moments. The aura of my magic is gone, but I have never been so happy to be in my own darkened home. I know this darkness well now. Much better than the unnatural trap that was behind this door. Slowly, I release the pressure of my own weight. I think…it’s done. It has to be done. I got an idea, to comfort my own sanity. Thinking fast, or not thinking at all, I use my magic to carefully pull a bookshelf over the door. Again, I don’t care how much noise I make. I sigh as I let it go, it would work for now, and mostly hides the door.
Exhaustion grips my mind, and I can feel my body succumb to the lack of sleep. I yawn, and let my head drop. I drag my body to the steps, hauling my body like it’s dead weight. The closer I get to my bed, the weaker and more tired I feel. I really hope I didn’t wake up Spike. Silently I reach my office, and mentally prepare to climb the next set of stairs, however as I lift my head to look at my bed…I freeze. Shrouded in shadow like an unwelcome visitor, my body once again goes cold. Silhouetted by moonlight I see…someone sitting up in my bed, staring down almost directly at me. I can’t move as I stare back. I can’t tell if they’ve seen me. A thought crosses my mind, an inconceivable, unimaginable, impossible thought. A thought that sends a wave of anxiety to my core…it can’t be.
We stare at each other for a long time. Time doesn’t exist in the dark. Then, she moves. I turn tail, scramble down the tunnel, and into the library. I cringe as the floor beneath my hoof creaks when my weight settles on it. And, in a quick panic, I hide under the table.
