Dinky's First Kill
by Present Perfect
"Mommy!"
Mommy once said that fillies are called fillies because they're filled with love, and that was why Dinky Hooves, age six, had lots of love to give to everypony. She loved Mommy and her Aunt Carrot Top, and her school teacher Mrs. Sharpener, even though she smelled funny. She loved her stuffed zebra Boopsie that the nice zebra lady gave her for Nightmare Night, and blueberry muffins, and her friends Tootsie Flute and Pipsqueak, and no she hadn't kissed him ever, and no she didn't want to.
"Mommy!"
However, out of all the ponies and all the things in all the world that she had met during her tiny life, there was one thing, or rather one type of thing, for which Dinky Hooves could muster no love.
"MOOOOOOMMYYYYYY!"
The door to Dinky's room opened and Mommy stepped in, flour whitening her cheeks. Mommy looked at the bed, which was empty, and her left eye scanned across the room until it found Dinky, perched unsteadily atop a chair back and pointing with a hoof at a dark spot on the floor.
"Sweetie, come down off that chair before you hurt yourself," Mommy said softly. "I'll get it, don't worry."
With a whimper, Dinky slipped down onto the seat of the chair, keeping her hooves off the floor as Mommy left the room. She returned a few long, tense moments later with a water glass and a postcard. Glancing around the room, she found the dark blotch still crouching where it had been, and dropped the glass upside-down over it. Then she leaned down with the card in her mouth, sliding it carefully under the lip of the glass.
There was no chance of it escaping, yet Dinky watched it carefully, unable and unwilling to leave it unattended. Its legs rose and fell slowly as it crept along the card surface. Reaching the edge of the glass, it stopped, then placed three spindly, hairy legs against it, seemingly content to rest in the corner between wall and floor as Mommy lifted the postcard. Carefully, she flapped her wings and rose into the air, then clamped her hooves around the glass.
"Now you wait there," she said, "and I'll take this little guy outside so he can find his friends and family."
Dinky nodded, waiting on the chair until she heard the front door squeak open, and then she waited a minute more. When she was certain that the terrifying invader no longer occupied her home, she let out a long breath and put her hooves on the floor. The door squeaked closed and latched with a click, and then Mommy trotted back into the bedroom, smiling.
"There now, isn't that all better? No more icky spiders to frighten my Dinky."
Dinky rushed over and gave Mommy a proper hero hug. But with her eyes squeezed shut, all she could see was the spider, brown and loathsome, lurking against the edge of the glass, watching her as it was carried out of the house.
"What if it goes back to its spider friends and tells them about me?"
Dinky's question was soft enough that nopony not on the swing set with her could have heard it. Though her friends were engaged in their own play, she was busy looking at the ground and not swinging. Pipsqueak laughed, kicking his swing higher.
"Spiders don't talk, silly!" he said.
Dinky did not feel like laughing and did not see what was so funny.
"Mama says that Miss Fluttershy can talk to animals," Tootsie Flute said, making her swing twist around and around. "Maybe they can so talk."
"Nuh-uh."
"Yeah-huh!" Tootsie stuck her tongue out. "But you don't hafta worry, Dinky. What would that spider say, anyway?"
Dinky bit her lip and noticed the gravel was a particularly gray shade of gray today. "It would say, umm... That I'm scared of spiders?"
"If a narsty ol' spider came into my house," Pip declared, "Auntie would squash it!"
Tootsie gasped. "Pip, that's mean!"
"Well it's true," he said with a haughty sniff. Letting go of the swing at its highest point, he flapped his hooves and shouted, "Yeeee!" before crunching down into the gravel on all fours.
Dinky kicked her hooves, but her swing didn't move.
"Maybe they talk about how easy it is to scare me," she said. "Maybe they'll build a spider army to come back when I'm asleep and, and..."
"And truss you up in a giiiiiant web!" Pip said, his face lit up with wonder.
"Nooo!" Dinky wailed, and Tootsie hopped off her swing, sticking her nose into Pipsqueak's face.
"Stop being mean and scary, Pip!"
Pip huffed and turned his back on her. "Well, I'm a-scared of spiders too, so it's okay."
"You are not!" Tootsie stood on her hind legs and put her hooves on her hips. "You're a-posed to be a fearless pirate!"
"Just 'cuz I'm a fearless pirate don't mean I can't be scared of something," Pip said plainly. "Otherwise it wouldn't be fair." He puffed out his chest. "I'm not scared o' every spider, neither: Just the ooky ones."
Tootsie Flute tried to stifle her giggle with a frown. "Which ones are the ooky ones?"
Pip stuck out his tongue. "Them ones with the long, stringy legs. I read a book about science once't and I don't think they can really go walkin' on hairs like that. It's not right. And anyway," he added quickly, "I know what happened last time there was a snake on the playground, so you can't say you're not scared of nothin' neither!"
Tootsie Flute blanched slightly at the mention of that snake. Dinky remembered it, small and green. One of the older bullies had picked it up with magic and shook it at Tootsie, and she had turned the same color as the snake before running away crying.
"That don't mean nothin'," Tootsie grumbled, sitting down on her haunches and looking away from him.
The sound of her friends arguing usually made Dinky feel all funny-happy inside, but right now, she felt more determined. It wasn't the kind that convinced her to keep going when her homework or an art project got hard, though; it was more like knowing that something was going to happen and not being able to stop it. The image of her inside a giant spider's web, struggling and helpless, had glued itself to the inside of her mind.
"Cummon," Pipsqueak said, tapping her rear left, "there's still recess left. Let's go play Sail Ship!" He dashed off for the low-hanging trees near the edge of the playground.
"I get to be the first mate!" Tootsie called, because the rules were Pipsqueak always got to be captain.
As Tootsie trailed off after him, something brushed against Dinky's shoulder. She flew more than hopped from her swing, turning around quickly to see what horrible bug had landed on her. But it was just her own mane, blown about by a sudden breeze. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then trotted off to play Sail Ship with her friends.
That night, Dinky couldn't sleep. Shadows on her walls seemed to move at the edges, as though small, dark things traipsed just along the boundary between dark and deeper dark, scuttling back as they trespassed into lighter patches. A tree limb scraped against the window like a hoof upon a chalkboard. Creeping tension tugged at her withers. Pulling the covers over her head didn't help; she could only imagine what the horrors lurking in her room would be up to while she couldn't keep an eye on them.
Pipsqueak's callously pronounced vision from the playground repeated itself over and over in her head. With each iteration, the sequence took place in a slightly different location -- the park, her room, at school. It always ended the same, though: Dinky, wrapped tightly in sticky silken threads, screaming for her mother while an endless cloud of spiders roamed down the cocoon towards her.
Crrrrk... Crkkk...
That prickly creeping returned, like hundreds of tiny legs pressing against her body, poking at her flanks and fetlocks. She lifted the covers to find nothing there that shouldn't be, but the sensation persisted. Sitting up, she could see only the dent left by her in the mattress; still, the pinpricks continued. Every strand of her hair tingled as though it were being pulled upward.
That was when Dinky realized she was being pulled from the mattress.
"Mommy!"
Glistening silk obscured the ceiling above, and from it the gossamer threads wrapped around her, lifting. She screamed and flailed, but every movement only drew more silk down, binding her tighter and tighter. Everywhere on her body, she could feel them moving, tickling, spinning their nasty webs. She couldn't see them, but she could hear them, their tiny voices filling the air with chanting.
Yummy, tasty fillies, fillies filled with jam...
A thick blanket of spider webs across her mouth muffled her screams. Something grabbed her horn and tugged her head backward, to stare straight up at the ceiling.
In the center of the massive web lay a massive spider, easily twice her size. Its legs stretched to the horizon, each armored and segmented and sprouting hairs that extended up to the clouds, then looped back down to wrap over her. Its hundred red eyes glowed with fiery hunger. The glistening mouth was filled with long, sharp fangs the size of her foreleg, which parted and dripped saliva onto her as she was drawn closer and closer to it. She could feel fetid breath hot enough to singe the fur on her muzzle as a deep laughter echoed from within it.
It was going to speak. Some inexorable prescience told her that when it did, the words it spoke would be the worst thing she would ever hear in her entire life. Dinky struggled, tried to scream, tried to turn her head or close her eyes, but she couldn't.
Don't say the words! she pleaded silently. Don't say them, you can't!
"I'm..."
The word burned like fire through her veins. Her mind went swimmy and the room turned sideways. Her eyes locked open, as if they too could scream.
"Going to kiss you..."
She turned upside-down, spun around, the room and the spider and the webs becoming a blur of motion.
"MOMMY!"
"Good morn--Ouch!"
Something hard hit Dinky in the forehead and she flumphed backward onto her bed. Looking up, she saw Mommy standing over her, holding a hoof to her eye. The memory of the giant monster faded away into sunshine and familiar shapes.
"Dinky, sweetie," Mommy said softly, "Mommy only has one good eye, so let's be careful, now."
"I'm sorry, Mommy," Dinky replied, flexing her hooves as she clutched at the bedcover. "I had a nightmare."
Saying the words, forcing the images back into the fantasy of the dream world, made the blurry shapes of light snap into focus. She was in her room. It had just been a dream. She was safe. She tried to let out a sigh of relief and instead broke down into sobs, leaning against Mommy and clutching at her tightly.
"Oh Dinky, my muffin," Mommy said, wrapping her hoof around her, "that must have been some awful dream!"
"I-i-it waaaas!" Dinky moaned.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
With a sniff, Dinky shook her head. Giving the tears a few moments to subside, she asked, "Did I hurt you, mommy?"
Mommy paused a moment, then she laughed. "I guess not, since I forgot all about it!"
Looking up at her, Dinky gasped. "Mommy, your eye's all red! I'm so sorry!"
With a sound of surprise, Mommy lifted up and flew into the bathroom. Dinky heard a soft groan a moment later and got out of bed to go see.
"Don't worry, baby," Mommy said, seeing her in the mirror as she entered the bathroom. "It doesn't hurt, so I think it will be okay."
"I'm sorry, mommy," Dinky said, ears and tail drooping.
"Shh, now." Mommy wrapped her in a hug. "I'm sure it will be fine soon. I'll just go see the nice doctor today while I'm out."
Dinky took a step back. "Out?"
Mommy smiled. "It's Saturday, sweetie. Mommy and Aunt Carrot Top are going to the market for shopping. Do you want to come?"
"No." The word came out too quickly.
Mommy smiled. "Well, it's up to you, then. We'll be leaving once Aunt Carrot Top is ready; why don't you get some breakfast, okay?" Then Mommy gently shooed her out of the bathroom.
Over a bowl of Honey Crunchy Sugar Oats and milk, Dinky watched mommy and Aunt Carrot Top gather their saddlebags and make for the door.
"Are you sure you don't want to come, muffin?"
"No, mommy," Dinky said through a mouthful of cereal. "Have a good time!"
"Okay. I love you, buh-bye!"
"You're going to get that looked at, right?" Aunt Carrot Top said as they left through the door.
"Of course!"
"All right, but just don't forget--"
The door closed. Slowly it dawned on Dinky that all the worrying over mommy's eye had made her forget her own problems. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she wanted to be alone right now, but it was too late because she had already told Mommy she didn't want to go shopping. Sighing, she finished her cereal and went to the living room to find a book to read. Even facing loneliness, she really didn't feel like going outside.
It was some time later that she felt a presence, something watching her. Inhaling sharply, she swiveled her head about, startled by movement on the wall.
In an instant, she was backpedaling off the sofa, eyes filled with the horrible image of what lay before her.
"Mommy!"
The cry was reflexive, but Mommy hadn't come back yet. There was nopony around, nopony who could help her.
Dinky was alone with a spider.
Her first instinct was to flee, but to where? It could go anywhere in the house, and if she went outside...
"He told you about me," she whispered, "the one Mommy saved. Didn't he?"
The spider responded by dashing around the corner, over the door jamb that led into her room.
Cold fear flooded Dinky's chest. She stood ramrod straight. That monster was invading her room!
She thought about playing Sail Ship, and Tootsie Flute's exhortation that pirates were supposed to be fearless. She remember Pip saying that he was only afraid of 'ooky', long-legged spiders.
Her brows knit. A monster had just invaded her room, boarded her ship, threatened the safety of her and Mommy. Captain Mommy wasn't around, and that meant it was up to First Mate Dinky to secure the house against the intruder. It didn't mean she wasn't scared, but sometimes a pirate had to do what a pirate had to do.
With a little stomp of her hoof, she marched up to her bedroom door, then stopped. A quick gallop to the closet later and she returned to the doorway with a broom in her mouth. It wouldn't do to go into a dangerous situation unarmed, after all.
Snorting, she crept little by little through the doorframe, eyes glued to the wall to her left. The house was loudly silent and her hoofsteps echoed through the rooms. One step, then another, then another...
Something on her bed moved and she jumped, her scream mangled by the broom handle in her mouth. Reacting quickly, she slapped it onto the bed, heedless of her aim. Horrified, she watched the tiny brown blob lift off the springy mattress and sail through the air to land on the floor behind her. It impacted heavily, without a sound, and wiggled for a long moment before flipping over.
Dinky tried to attack with the broom again, but the sight of the spider righting itself drew all the breath from her. Her weapon dropped to the floor. The creature began to stalk dazedly to the left. Her eyes tracked it helplessly as it ascended the broom handle and then began to skitter down its length, straight toward her.
The spider filled her vision. Eight legs gyrated one over the other, propelling it in slow, unreal motions up the length of the wooden shaft. It tilted left, then back to the right, never losing its grip, gaining speed, its eyes shining with hatred. Dinky could sense it with every fiber of her being, could feel the malevolence press her back against the wall. Fear squeezed her throat shut.
"Mommy..."
The spider paused at the edge of the bristles.
"Mommy..."
It crept down them, picking its way carefully through the spines and never once wavering from its path towards her.
"Mommy!"
Mommy can't help you, Dinky.
She closed her eyes, becoming a blur of motion. Like a piston, she oscillated up and down, over and over. A distant roaring sounded in her ears, and it seemed like ages of hard toil before she recognized it as her own voice.
"Go away! Go away! Go away!"
There was a crack and Dinky fell to her haunches. Through tears, she saw the head of the broom had snapped off. A pile of straw bristles lay in a semicircle at its base. In the center of these was a brown smear. Seven little tufts emerged haphazardly from it, an eighth sticking straight up into the air, the merest pathetic fraction of an inch. It twitched, and her hoof came down over it once more.
Slam!
When her hoof lifted, the eighth tuft and most of the smear were gone. Dinky collapsed to the floor, staring at the mess stuck to the bottom of her hoof.
Words caught in her throat. She lay there, crying, until Mommy came in and swept her up in a big hug.
"Dinky, honey, what's wrong, are you hurt? What's the matter? Please tell me what's wrong!"
Dinky hiccupped. Mommy's frantic voice did nothing to calm her. She threw her hooves around Mommy's neck.
"I broke your broom!" was all she could say.
Mommy set her gently on the bed and Aunt Carrot Top picked up the broom pieces, carrying them out.
"It's okay, sweetheart," mommy said, wiping at Dinky's eyes. "We can get another broom."
"A-a-and I..." Dinky hiccupped again. She looked at Mommy, her left eye covered by a large gauze patch, a remembrance of her first mistake that morning. "I killed a spider."
The admission of her guilt brought forth new tears from a reserve she had thought emptied. Mommy cooed and brushed her mane gently back.
"Oh, sweetie. Oh my little Dinky, I'm sorry."
"No! I'm sorry!" She buried her face in her hooves. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident! I wanted to brush it away like you always do, but then I started stomping on it because it was gonna get me, and..."
"Is she okay?" Aunt Carrot Top asked from the doorway.
Mommy nodded. "I think what muffin needs to do is have a little funeral so she can say proper sorry. Then maybe it will be time to make a new friend."
Dinky's muzzle scrunched up as she tapped on the glass. The creature behind it placidly ignored her.
"I'm sorry I killed your friend, Mister Stinkyhead," she grumbled. "Mommy said you're going to teach me how to get over my fears, but that doesn't mean we're friends."
The rosy tarantula said nothing. It extended a leg and then, as if reconsidering, retracted it, resuming its previous, vaguely ball-shaped pose.
From beneath her bed, Dinky peeked out from behind Boopsie and glared at the terrarium. She didn't like this arrangement one bit, but Mommy had said it was a first step on the road to recovery, whatever that meant. Maybe if that big spider stayed inside its little home and didn't try anything funny while she was sleeping, she could accept it being there. For now, anyway.
Mister Stinkyhead shifted slightly and Dinky squeaked, pushing Boopsie forward as a shield. It was going to be a long struggle, but maybe, just maybe, this would all work out in the end.
Author's Note
Dinky's First Kill is based off an old, old, old actual fiction idea I once had about… well, a little girl with arachnophobia killing a spider because her daddy wasn't there, and then feeling remorseful about it. It's a treatise on arachnophobia, an issue from which I have always suffered. Ever since getting into ponies, I've been thinking a lot about using fanfic as a way of 'testing' real fiction ideas, if you will, and this is my first time doing so. The choice of Dinky was obvious. I could have used one of the mane cast as fillies, after all -- Twilight would have worked the best, I think -- but Dinky is cruise control for cute. :B Plus, the opportunity to use a title that provocative is just something I could not pass up. Pipsqueak, by the way, spouts the parameters of my actual spider fears. Because seriously, the ones with the hair legs just should not be.
Many thanks to Pascoite and the other folks from the writeoff, as well as Sagebrush for providing feedback, and to Ellittest for letting me use this awesome cover image. "Sail Ship" is the creation of Casca, author of the fantabulous Pipsqueak the Valiant's Adventure Journal, and part of my headcanon for Pipsqueak. :B
