Disturbed

Crimson wished that she could stay where she lay forever, but the gravity of her situation prevented that notion; she’d only have solace once she escapes, if she escapes. She had no clue how much further she had to go, and for the matter, if she could even make the journey. It seemed as though the further in she got, the crazier things were. She’d seen the devastation of the disease in her travels; however, this house seemed to be a whole new level of darkness. What’s more, she had her sanity to keep in check; she would have pulled out some old photos if she hadn't forgotten her saddlebag in the first room. All her food was in that bag as well. The last thing she'd eaten was some beans, and that had been at least a night ago, so her stomach wasn't taking kindly to it.

Forcing down her nagging hunger, Crimson got up so that she could confront the next door. Unlike the others, this one had a greenish tint to it, and from the small crack at the bottom, some source of light filtered through as well. The desperate mare allowed a glimmer of hope to flitter through her body. Walking with a slight bounce in her step, Crimson trotted over to the door and swung it open. It was bright, and Crimson had to cover her eyes with a hoof till they adjusted.

When the glare receded and the area came into focus, Crimson’s eyes widened. In the center of the mossy room, a large tree, swathed in ivy and dangling with rich, red apples was planted. A hole in the ceiling acted like a portal to the oddly blue sky, and from it, a halo of light covered the ground beneath, igniting the room in the vibrancy of day. Crimson, confronted by such succulent fruit, felt her stomach growl. She hadn't had a real apple in ages, and just the thought made her salivate. In all truth, what could go wrong?

As Crimson approached the tree, eyes fixated on the apples, she hardly noticed the odd nature of the ivy. Pulling at one of the lower hanging fruits, she detached it from its stem and went to bite. It felt cool and smooth to the touch; very apple-like, for the lack of better terms. Things changed however as she bit in, prepared to savor the sweetness that the skin protected. What she actually tasted was something far, far more fowler. Not only was the inside mush, it dripped a brackish red fluid that was warm and greasy. Eyes widening in fear, she pulled the fruit away and looked at it. It wasn’t apple-flesh, but pony. The pink mush jiggled sickeningly, and Crimson spit her bite out, falling to her side and retching heavily.

Mere seconds later-before she could recover-a cool tendril, like a snake, or a tentacle, wrapped around one of her hind legs. Thrown off by the unexpected sensation, Crimson was painfully reminded of the first fitful night in Town Hall. Turning so that she could face whatever was dragging her, Crimson took note that it was one of the ivy vines, and that it was pulling her closer to a prior unnoticed hole between two thick roots. Crunching into a ball, she bit at the vine desperately, severing it before it could take her. As she prepared to get up and gallop, a tangle of vines fell from the tree, coiling around her four hooves; effectively immobilizing her.

Crimson, so lost to fear, began to bawl; screaming profanities at her luck and the building. If she were to go down, she’d go down in fire. Struggling bitterly, she prepared to charge up her horn only to realize that she lacked the concentration.

And the hole drew nearer, gaping like the mouth of some demonic beast.

Again she attempted to cast, and again she failed.

So close now, the draft from the black hole was disgusting; the tree seemed to be breathing, spewing foul breath into Crimsons face at every exhale; she knew she only had one last chance.

Finding calmness in the turmoil, Crimson focused, willing her energy to flow up her horn and congregate at the tip. She would do it… she wouldn’t do it. As she cast her spell, it fizzled and died; it seemed as though her last cast on the butterflies had drained her.

Finding that she had no chances left, Crimson stopped trying and allowed the fight to leave her. She hoped with all her heart that her death would be quick, that she wouldn’t have to suffer. This notion was wracked with doubt; she concluded that there were no happy endings now-a-days, only excruciatingly slow ones. In all probability, the remnants of the other unfortunate ponies at the edge of the hole would infect her, and she’d end up like the foal, or the pegasus; doomed to live what was left of her life mad and disturbed.

As her hooves were pulled into the hole, a chilling numbness overcame them; a numbness that spread as she was pushed further in. Just as her head went under, she opened her eyes to glance at the sky, still blue, still optimistic. If only she had another chance.

If only.

Darkness. Crushing darkness. Crushing darkness with no end; was this what death felt like? For seconds, or maybe hours, Crimson was dragged along, sucked like a ball in a tube; sucked deeper into the tree. Then she emerged.

When the feeling came back to Crimson, she immediately felt wetness; she was treading in a pool of… something. The rank smell that hung about thickly in the air made her suspect that it wasn’t water; or at least sanitary water, but something far more… organic. Looking around her, she took note that she was in a cylindrical tube whose texture felt rough to the touch. Looking up, Crimson spotted a leafy roof. It seemed as though she was in the tree itself; so what was the fluid then?

Digestive acid.

The revelation came to Crimson rather suddenly, and she immediately regretted her newfound knowledge. The nature of the grotesque apples started making far more sense. Here, in this chamber, the tree would digest its victims, and whatever remained would be deposited in the apples. Feeling lightheaded, she slipped underneath the surface, only to return again above the fluid; green in the face. Gagging bitterly, Crimson swam the circumference of the chamber, blindly fumbling with her hooves for any sort of hole, an escape. The very thought that she’d be turned to sludge chilled her bones.

On her second rotation, Crimson swore that she felt something squirm past her leg. Seizing up, she strained to see what was beneath the brackish surface of the acid pool, but failed. The feeling spurred her onwards though, and her searching became far more desperate. The feeling came again, this time a little higher up her leg; it was as if something stringy was swimming around her. Heart beating painfully fast, Crimson turned her gaze heavenwards in the hopes of finding her salvation.

For a second it seemed as though her searching was in vain; soon, however, she spotted an indent, just big enough to jam her rear hooves in and then propel her body to the leafy covering (which she only hoped was dispersed enough to let her through). Yet even the indent was out of her reach. Working with whatever determination she had left, Crimson again put her mind to the rough walls. As the same squirming sensation returned, this time at her back, Crimson turned and hoofed at the water in fear. The sensation returned again, and she responded suit. It was on the third time that the sensation stopped. Frozen with fear, Crimson scanned the water. Though she didn't see anything, she did notice that the scratch marks on the barks surface-the ones she had created as she groped for an exit-were hidden beneath the acid; the pool was rising— all she had to do was wait.

A sudden gurgling noise shattered any relief she felt, soon followed by the dispersant of water as something emerged from the depths to stare at her. In the gloomy light that punctured the leaf cover, few details were given on the new pony who now shared the small confines, but they were more than Crimson wanted to see. The grotesque sight had a particular effect on the sodden unicorn, who relieved herself embarrassingly as an all-encompassing wave of fear struck her. This new occupant of the chamber was an earth pony, that much was certain. She-the pony was decayed from the acid so Crimson guessed- had a slimy blond mane and a rather characteristic trio of white freckles beneath one of her eyes. Her face was in a state of decay, and Crimson could see the four layers-fur, skin, muscle and bone- reviled in some of the places where the acid had been less merciful.

Hyperventilating now, Crimson attempted to distance herself, only to find that the unyielding walls of the tree prevented a retreat. As if predicting her movement, the earth pony began to approach her, gurgling as if attempting to speak, to form words; Crimson would have none of it. As the disgusting earth pony came into bucking distance, Crimson kicked out, cringing as her hoof made contact with a flank as mushy as the apple had been. A moan from her pursuer, and one of her hind legs floated to the surface. Rot had degraded the once muscular limb to fleshy paste, and even as it floated on the surface, it began to break apart. Some bits, to Crimsons greatest horror, snagged in her wet mane, while others bobbed around her head; she was struggling to remain floating.

As the earth pony advanced again, Crimson cast a glance upwards. To her relief, all she had to do was wait a bit longer before her leap could be manageable. Bringing her gaze down, she noticed that the decaying pony had vanished. For a second Crimson remained motionless, praying to Celestia that losing a limb had been enough of a deterrent to her assailant. The feeling of dispersed liquid beneath her submerged hooves quickly denounced that. Yelping, Crimson attempted to vacate the spot before her assailant could get to her, this failed however, as a grasping hoof latched onto one of her retreating ones, followed by a body which jockeyed her from behind in a reverse hug. Throwing up again as the sensation of mushy flesh pressed against her back overrode all others; Crimson was dragged under the acid and into murky blackness.

Having lost her sight, smell and hearing, all that she could sense was feeling; the feeling of her assailant’s stringy mane brushing across her face, brushing all over her; of its tongue, which probed at Crimsons ear before falling off and getting tangled in her filthy mane. Shaking her head, Crimson felt the appendage deteriorate as the hoof had done. Twisting and squirming, Crimson managed to loosen the vice-like grip. Using her new wiggle space, she spun around and began to beat furiously at her assailant. Each buck punched a new hole in the unnatural earth pony, freeing up what organs and intestines that had survived the acid. And yet even as she gutted the abomination, its grasp remained true.

It came to the point that Crimson only had enough breath in her lungs to drown, or make a last ditch attempt at freedom. Fixing her opponent in a close-eyed gaze, she swung, putting every ounce of her sapped energy and weight into the buck. The strike struck home, ripping off one of the hooves that had been restricting her. Confronted now with only two remaining limbs, the abomination slipped, losing its grip on Crimson, and allowing her to resurface. Not waiting to see if her assailant had followed her up, Crimson fixed her gaze on the indent and jumped, reaching out with a shaky hoof and grabbing it promptly. With half of her plan a success, Crimson jumped again, grasping onto a leaf bearing limb and heaving herself up.

To her greatest relief, the branch which she clung to bitterly was firm, and it allowed her to pull herself up and straddle it. What was left was getting down. Glancing over the limb, Crimson felt a wave of nausea grip her. The floor was a ways down; with the dangerous ivy covering the bark beneath her hooves, scaling the tree was out of the option. She would have to jump. Ideally, she'd jump and use her magic to slow her fall; this was also out of the option. She'd have to jump and hope she didn't break a limb… a limb… maybe there was another way.

Looking down at the branch she had propped herself on, she took note that the end of the limb was far more flimsy than the part she was sitting on; an idea came to her then. It was a dangerous route, but it seemed to be the best plan of attack to minimize the damage on her weakened body. Shaking her head at the absurdity of her theory, the disheveled mare began to inch herself closer to the tip, which bent in degrees as her weight was placed further and further down the branch. As she was about half way across the limb, the tree beneath her came to life, and the ivy began to hiss like snakes.

Smiling defiantly, she scooted to the tip and allowed the limb to bend under her rump. As she was descending to the floor, a vine, having found that its victim had gotten into its range, launched at her. Eyes wide at the speed, Crimson had no choice but to fall the rest of the way. With a shout, the unicorn jumped from the limb just in time to avoid the tendril. Freefalling now, Crimson could only hope she landed without breaking anything. Mentally prompting herself to land on her hooves and roll, Crimson loosened her legs and prepared from impact. As she was a mere pony from the ground, a speedy vine interrupted her fall in an attempt to snag her hoof; this succeeded, and in the last second Crimson lost control and fell head-first into the floor. As she struck, a blinding white light, followed by a cracking noise and immense pain knocked her unconscious. Just as she was about to black out, the image of a mare appeared in her peripheral.