Don't Go Out At Night

by Samsara

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark
Length: 1261

My Entry to a Music-Oriented Flash Fiction Challenge in the GrimDark Group

Rarity and Sweetie Belle sit home on the night of Hearth's Warming Eve, while Rarity shares a quick story with her little sister. As a personal challenge, just to prove that she isn't scared, Sweetie Belle goes outside to try and test the validity of this story and faces more than she ever hoped for.

(I just belted this out and didn't edit it, so I apologize for the probable abundance of errors and the cheesy, rushed story. It's supposed to be Flash Fiction, but since the website doesn't allow stories of less than 1,000 words, I had to make it just a little longer since I actually wanted to submit it. Just a fun little one-shot, I wrote it in like an hour tops [with several breaks in between] so please don't judge it too harshly.)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-08 23:50:01 UTC

It'll Get You

"Rarity?  Why is it that ponies all stay inside on Hearth's Warming Eve?  It seems like a waste of fresh snow!"  Sweetie Belle asked as she helped her big sister decorate their festive home.  She still couldn't use her magic, rather wasn't allowed to, so she stood atop a treacherously tilting stool to get the big glass ornaments onto their modestly sized tree.

"Well, Sweetie Belle, it's because of the mountain Wendigo.  This is the longest, coldest night of the year so you have to stay inside where it's warm and bright so that it can't get you."  Rarity responded, delicately wrapping ribbon around the various pillars inside her boutique.  She always loved this time of year, so festive and fashionable!

"I thought the Windigos were defeated on the first Hearth's Warming Eve?"  Sweetie Belle quivered a little and nearly fell, but luckily for her Rarity was there to stop the ornament and her little sister from falling to the floor.

"The Windigos were, that's true, but this is something completely different.  It's the Mountain Wendigo, a big, brutish pony twisted by the harsh cold of the high mountains and driven insane by isolation and... well... cannibalism."

"Cannibalism?  What's that?"  Sweetie Belle sat down on the floor next to her stool, letting Rarity hang the ornament where she tried to get it.

"It's when ponies eat other ponies...  Disgusting practice, very illegal here in Equestria.  If you do it it has profound effects on your body: you go crazy, your bones and muscles grow and twist, and you become a terrifying monster!"

Sweetie Belle shook violently at the mental image, but was easily calmed by the loving feel of her big sister's arm around her.

"That's why we stay inside, Sweetie Belle.  We stay inside with our families, with our warm fires, with our glowing, lit home, so that the Mountain Wendigo can stay away.  This is the time where the night is long and the world is cold, so he's more at home to roam the further reaches of the foothills, places like Ponyville and Canterlot are especially risky."  Rarity held onto Sweetie Belle until she calmed down, happily keeping herself available for the little filly.

"I'm glad I've got you, Rarity.  You're the best big sister I could ever ask for."  Sweetie Belle snuggled up against Rarity as soon as she calmed down, prompting an emotional "Aww!" from the adult unicorn.

That night, they enjoyed their dinner and both headed off to bed, although poor Sweetie Belle just couldn't sleep.  The thoughts of the Mountain Wendigo crept around in her mind.  The wind blew outside her window, startling her; the cries of the Wendigo!

She got up and out of bed, pacing around her room and thinking to herself It couldn't possibly be true, could it?  No pony ever ate another pony, it's unnatural!  It's disgusting!  And even if they did Celestia would catch them.  She'd throw them in the dungeon, chase them away, banish them...  There's no such thing as a Mountain Wendigo.

Sweetie Belle paused her pacing, turning to look out her window and into the dull blue of the night-shaded snow.  Everything outside seemed calm, let along a slight breeze blowing snowdrifts over the white-covered ground.  She instantly resolved to go outside and check for herself; to make absolutely sure that there wasn't such a thing, then she'd be able to fall asleep.

She donned her scarf and a set of winter boots, figuring that getting too dressed up wasn't necessary since she'd be back inside after just a few minutes.  She opened the door and felt the bone-chilling wind invade her home.  She shivered for a while, rethinking her decision, but the filly eventually resolved to just be brave.  It wasn't out there anyway.  Even if it is real, Sweetie Belle thought, It's probably up in Canterlot anyway, nowhere even close to here...  Her thoughts were turning against her, reinforcing the thing's existence, but she pushed on nonetheless.

Her little hooves sank into the snow, getting the cold flakes up under her boots and onto her actual legs.  It was bitter cold, the coldest it had ever been, and the light wind wasn't helping.  She walked out, deciding that the park would be far enough before she turned around, and headed into the dark, desolate streets of a frozen Ponyville.  Nothing stirred except the occasional snowdrift, each of which startled Sweetie Belle and grabbed her attention as they invaded her peripheral vision, but each time proved to be nothing more than wind playing with her mind.  She finally reached the park, looking out and scanning it in its blue, dead, state.  Nothing at all.

She did, however, see something bizarrely huddled up right in the center of the park, though it looked more like a snowman than anything.  Curiosity got the best of her, so she trudged through the deep snow, taking wide, difficult steps toward the lump and reaching it in a matter of minutes.  The instant she got within ten feet of it, however, it stirred.  The lump moved, turned its head until Sweetie Belle could see a pony-like muzzle, and opened one frozen, crackling eye to look at her.  Sweetie Belle froze in place as if the winter had finally dug its fingers into her bones: the thing looking back at her had yellowed, bloodshot eye whites, a dark, dead blue like the color of snow at midnight iris with a pupil that didn't seem to know exactly what dilation it should be at.  Its muzzle was lumpy and twisted, with sharp, broken teeth jutting out the sides where it couldn't quite close all the way, yellowed from the blood of ponies and who knows what else having stained them.  Icicles hung from the tips of its fur, and where what used to be a mane and tail sat only a scabbed, filthy patch of shaggy, torn fur.  The thing's mouth opened, revealing a tongue that had been cut or bitten or torn out by something, probably itself, and it let loose the most horrible howl Sweetie Belle had ever heard: the howl of gale force winds.  She turned to run, slamming into the snow and tripping several times, trying to outrun the beast.

Tears streaked down Sweetie Belle's cheeks and she tried to scream, but her own yell was easily drowned out by the creature chasing her.  She looked back, trying to gauge the distance between herself and it, only to watch as its frozen joints cracked and lifted the malnourished and dead-looking body, knobby jointed and twitching out of the snow.  It was huddled over the unidentifiable remains of another pony, still steaming with warmth but having had most of its skin and muscle chewed away by the monster.  Sweetie Belle wished she hadn't seen that, turning away to run as quickly as she could, tripping once more on the deep snow and hitting hard enough to bury her face in it.

With her face hidden in the snow she cried, long and painfully with tears freezing to her cheeks, wishing that this was all just a bad dream and that it would go away.  Not until the bony hooves wrapped around her back legs and pulled her away to her death did she snap back into reality.

Rarity held Sweetie Belle's funeral nearly a full year after she had gone missing, having been in denial the entire time.  Everyone in town showed up to it.  It was the night of Hearth's Warming Eve, and the sun was going down; they all knew they needed to get back inside, so the final rites were whispered, the final prayers taken, and the crowd dispersed.  They all sat snugly in their homes, hoping and praying that no more children would ever be lost.

Happy Hearth's Warming Eve

~Fin