Nightmares Nigh on Nightmare Night
Nightmares Nigh on Nightmare Night
Nightmares Nigh on Nightmare Night
a My Little Pony short story
The cold wind blew over Ponyville with a hollow demeanour, bringing little more than a desolate chill to the ponies still out at this time, few as there were. A little over two and a half hours ago the festivities of Nightmare Night had drawn to a close. Families had gone to bed, their little foals succumbed to sugar crashes. Willow Spirit, a young earth pony, wasn’t a stranger to the sleeping world. Sneaking out and trotting the empty streets was a favourite pastime of his - although his parents complained dearly of this habit. Willow wasn’t one to celebrate Nightmare Night, in fact, he found it all rather foalish. He was a teenager now, what sense was there in dressing up in silly costumes parading for sweet treats for hours on end? What intrigue was there in that? Indeed, patrolling the still world on the proclaimed ‘night of nightmares’ sounded liberating in his mind.
He knew the small village by heart; to the left was the path to the Cakes’ shop, to the right the Boutique, straight ahead was the Café he adored and further beyond that the Plaza stood. Willow strained his eyes straight ahead to make out the hanging sign of the Café. It felt as though he was peering beyond the horizon a million miles; on the bow of a ship sailing towards land which was just out of sight. Turning tail to look back upwards the street, the cobblestone trail led forever onto oblivion - into inky blackness which was eventually gobbled up stone by stone. The sign blew gently, only discernible by light creaking carried to his ear from the ice-cold breeze. Odd... Town Hall should sit squat at the end of the street. Even on a moonless night its monstrous shadow blotted out the lowest stars on the horizon. Tonight there was nothing. Such a strange nothing.
Willow had begun trotting towards the sign as he let his mind ponder what atmospheric phenomenon could be occurring. On some nights, he remembered, fog surrounded and dampened the town, making things almost claustrophobic. On other nights he remembered heat inversions which refracted starlight and made the horizon exceedingly voidful. On rainy nights the rain made the streets run cold and the bricks shine with pinpricks of stars. On, and on, and on he went. Trotting for what felt like three, maybe four… five minutes. Taking a stop Willow realised he had not drawn any closer to the Café than he was before, in fact, it almost seemed as if he was further away than when he’d begun trotting.
Fifteen minutes of trotting - closed doors, shuttered windows, curtains drawn shut and dusty alleyways passed by him. Peering out into the misty darkness the sign appeared almost as a blip on the horizon, a swaying beacon of frustration and exhaustion. He must be seeing things, it was late after all. He should’ve been to bed nearly an hour ago - even his normal late-night routine would’ve had him home before 2 o’clock.
A chill ran up his spine. That hadn’t happened before.
Willow could feel a growing presence of some entity unknown. Each window became a set of eyes which gazed upon him, fixed, studying his every step. It was time to turn back, surely. To the safety of home. To his warm bed, to candlelight. Trotting towards his home it was almost impossible to determine which direction he was really heading. Small beads of sweat began to permeate his soft coat, tension building up inside of his skull. Every window laid empty, no mare or stallion peered out of them, yet the indisputable mass of a spirit was closing in around him. His melodic trot eventually devolved into a messy, hasty one which fastened into a half gallop… then a full. The world seemed to whizz past him, the cold air swirling in his ears, screaming as it reverberated into his brain.
He ran. He kept running until his breaths laboured hard under stress. Misty, cold air choked him as he worked, tenderising his delicate windpipe. His eyes scanned every single building, looking for the white door and golden handle, belonging to his home. Yet in his hundreds of meters of dashing not a match could be found. Where was he? He’d only gone straight, that he was certain.. no deviations, no turns - straight down to the Plaza. Or, at least, that was he had hoped when he locked the front door, when his eyes were still bright with curiosity and adventure. Now they were dull and dark - Willow unable to hide his fear. He slowed. His earth-shaking gallop came to a halt as he struggled to breathe. Slouching over he gasped for air, his throat straining hard, the metallic taste of iron almost dripping from his tongue. He wanted to vomit - both out of such excruciating pain and pure terror.
This wasn’t home anymore. Certainly so, this had to be someplace else. He would’ve been convinced this was a dream if it wasn’t for his muscles, which now quaked and shivered under his own weight, the pain permeating throughout his bones, gripping tight on the very marrow within them. The ringing in his ears became deafening as his tunnel vision grew. Willow closed his eyes, attempting to deepen his breaths and slow their rate - thoughts of comfort and peace helped aid such efforts. A silent moment passed before the colt grew steady enough to peer upon his misfortune another time. However, upon opening his eyes something had changed - he no longer found himself placed in the centre of a never-ending street, instead, he was laid on hard cobblestones in a plaza surrounded by the looming shadows of buildings. Their tall shadows stood as a forest of despair, isolating the young pony from his dreams of comfort or hopes of escape.
This had become his new reality, he thought. He underestimated what potential forces could be at play during the night and now he was to pay the price for that misjudgement. The colt had never felt such despair in his life to that point. Imagines of his family, friends and life raced through his mind. Perhaps there was indeed still hope to return to that place, he just needed to persevere… surely. This place felt ethereal somehow - clearly the hard, cold cobblestones were real, just as much as the gentle clip and clop of his hooves against it were. The cold wind ran across his back and chilled his very soul.
Time passed. Willow wasn’t entirely sure how long. It felt like an hour. Maybe two. The night grew colder around him. He began to shiver as he laid on the cobblestones. At one point he’d gotten up and paced around the plaza. He had attempted to find the edge of it, yet, couldn’t ever seem to reach an “edge”. A circular plaza. A perfect circle constituted of non-perfect stones. There was still something watching him - a terrifying feeling unable to be shaken.
“I must be dreaming,” Willow stated, nearly whispering to himself.
The wind carried his whisper from him, taunting him as it reverberated around him, invading his ears. It drummed around him. Willow placed both of his hooves over his ears to try to deafen the throaty sound of his own voice, but to no avail. Laying on the cobblestones he grimaced as his voice turned sour - congealing into a higher pitched, mare’s voice.
“Would thy dreams …
… be so wonderful?”
The voice cut clearly through the wind as silence fell like a blanket around him. Willow opened his eyes to find nothing but blackness, which reached around him and penetrated his very soul. It was almost difficult to see his hooves.
“W-Who’s there?” Willow asked, his voice breaking.
“You are a reckless foal”, she responded.
“I just want to g-go home! Let me leave!” Willow shouted, into the darkness.
The young colt’s eyes were blinded as brilliant white light burned into his retinas. He closed his eyes, unable to hide the yelp which emanated reflexively from inside his throat. Coming to, he revealed a set of pure, white eyes which towered before him. He looked up, helplessly. A mere child standing alone against the darkness. For once in his life, he felt truly alone.
The strange mare laughed, her eyes shining brighter as she did so. They pulsed with an ethereal energy; one which vibrated the very fabric of life and existence around the two, threatening to take hold and whip each strand into mere nothingness. Willow had never felt so exposed before: so vulnerable.
“Thy took peace and comfort from the night - the night took freedom and determination from you” she stated.
Willow could feel a strange sense of sorrow overtake his body - numbness. It engulfed every inch of his skin, sunk deep into his muscles and flowed through his bones. Tears began to well up in his eyes, unable to hide his terror.
“Continue on this path and you will be truly alone”
“Such as myself,” she added.
The brilliant white eyes shrunk down and met a body, which painted a mane and four hooves. A horn stood erect from her head, and her wings flapped gently as she lowered herself to the ground in front of the young colt.
“I wish not to see any harm come to you, young Willow,” her voice softened. “You are innocent, yet your connection to the night is perplexingly vibrant. You remind me much of myself when I was a filly”
“S-So this is a dream, then?” He blurted out, almost interrupting the alicorn.
The infinite nothingness which surrounded them fell away to reveal the Ponyville plaza: town hall stood proudly, illuminated under gentle moonlight. The sky painted an incredible lilac-velvet as stars glistened happily.
“Your reality is simply a suggestion to the realm of darkness. It plays in ways unknown to most ponies, and very few understand how much power it yields yet over your waking consciousness” She responded.
As she finished, the vibrant night of Ponyville fell away into a gray-black one. A seemingly endless crowd of thousands of shadowed figures hurried to surround Willow. They stood unwavering, featureless, peering onto him.
“The solace the night provides you is a facade for what truly lies beneath,” her voice sharpened.
Fangs grew out on each of the figures in the crowd - their bodies distorted into figures beyond Willow’s darkest horrors. Some stood tall with arms and claws as sharp as knives. Others crawled on fours with snouts full of razor-blade like teeth. They began to slowly close in on him as their nature became revealed.
“Allow the darkness to take control, and … there are simply no words to describe the fate which lie before you”
The creatures jumped. As they did so, she let off a blast of miasma and evaporated them into dust. The alicorn watched the dust blow gently upwards, swirling in little eddies as hundreds of clouds mingled with each other. She closed her eyes and a terrific wind enveloped the pair, scattering the particles deep into the night.
Willow’s heart jumped at first, but subsided - he felt relief, solace.
“That feeling is dangerous, young one,” she said, her tone becoming almost vicious.
Willow watched as the alicorn blinked - in one swift motion her mothering, calming eyes became alarming as hardened into narrow slits. She approached him, step by step. Her mane spilled out and began to float weightlessly around her. She seemingly grew in height as she now towered above him, her coat mixing with the darkness which surrounded him.
“Fear it,” the alicorn said, a billowing maniacal laugh sounded deep within her. Cackling across the soundwaves as Willow’s heart tensed up in fear yet once more - launching up onto his haunches and making steady progress backwards.
Where Willow expected to find solid cobblestones he found nothing but air as he began tumbling through a deep, open hole. Laughter filled his ears between pounding heartbeats as he attempted to scream, finding no ounce of air within his lungs to do so.
His vision darkened, his mind grew blank as he struggled to breathe, tumbling head over tail - down and down and down.
With a mighty gasp he hit something soft incredibly fast. He jolted awake, finding his body drenched with sweat and his heart pounding, almost bursting out of his chest. He sat up, his eyes darting around only to find himself upon the soft sheets of his bed. The walls of his room - the decor he knew so well.
Moonlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows which sat on the floor and over the walls. He could hear muffled sounds - crickets chirping happily, the rustling of leaves.
Willow took a few deep breaths attempting to steady himself and calm his mind. The thoughts of the alicorns and figures which had only moments ago surrounded him ran throughout his mind. Thank goodness that it had been a dream.
Or had it?
The words of the strange alicorn lingered in his mind: “Fear it”. The night was no longer just a place of peace and solace to be taken at whimsy; it was a realm of the unknown, a place where his darkest dreams and realities intertwined.
Getting out of bed he made his way towards the window. The quiet streets of Ponyville seemed normal, so serene. Watching over the town he understood that his understanding of the night had changed forever as he was shown its duality–the comfort and the fear, the solace and the danger.
As he stood there he made a promise to himself. Respect the night and the anonymity it held, never to abuse its trust or assume it to be innocent. Willow now cherished the light which guided him through the darkness, both inside and around him.
The wind blew gently, almost creating gentle whispers which stood as a haunting reminder of his journey. Closing his eyes, Willow felt a sense of resolve and determination: the night had tested him. It had shown him his fears. Yet he found something new; it had given him strength.
He thought of Celestia, the light that she so graciously gifted Equestria each day. The sun which shined triumphantly every day, which peered over the horizon each morning and tucked neatly into the Earth each night.
He thought of Luna, who guarded the dream realm and harnessed the dark. The moon which she raised in contrast to the sun, the coolness it brought and the hours of peace it provided to ponykind and beyond.
He remembered harmony, and that without the light, darkness would mean nothing. Without their duality, there could be no prosperity. Without balance… well, it was better left unsaid.
With a final, longing glance at the moonlight town, Willow returned to bed, feeling a strange kind of newfound peace. He drifted back to sleep, clinging onto the light within him, ready to face the night once more, but this time, with humility.
