Chapters It is hard for me to write this, for I do not wish to stain the memory of my best friend, but the nurse says that putting words to my memories – imagined or otherwise – might help me get over them; and maybe even make the nightmares stop.
I have known Applebloom for many years, ever since we both attended Ponyville elementary school. Even though we knew each other long before that, it was only after we formed our own secret society - called the cutie mark crusaders - together with Scootaloo that we became true best friends.
The initial goal of our group was, as the name implies, to work together to find our special talents and earn our cutie marks. Although we had many great times and lots of fun, the goal of our club remained uncompleted for several years. It was not until Scootaloo left Ponyville to go on a tour doing acrobatics with Rainbow Dash – Rainbow flying and Scoot on her scooter – that any of us got a cutie mark.
This was, of course, a milestone in the history of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and it made Applebloom and me consider if we needed to change our approach. Scootaloo getting her cutie mark without our help made us realize that the three of us did not necessarily – or even probably not – have the same special talents or destinies, and would therefore probably have to split up in order to find them.
It was a hard decision, but we had little choice. The Cutie Mark Crusaders was temporarily abolished and its two Ponyville members went each to theirs to discover their talents.
Applebloom knew right away where she would go. After the Cutie Pox incident a few years back Applebloom had grown a close connection with Zecora, and we had all agreed that her potion-making-abilities were uncanny; so Applebloom headed for the Everfree forest to be Zecora's apprentice.
I myself had a harder time deciding. My first fancy was to go to my sister and learn from her, but I knew from past experiences that craftsmanship was definitely not my thing. After some more consideration I realized there was one pony that I respected and admired above all other: Fluttershy.
Fluttershy was not only the sweetest and kindest pony I knew, but her skill at caring for animals of all sorts were legendary. I would be honored beyond word if I could have something like that as a cutie mark.
I went to Fluttershy's cottage and explained her my situation and asked her if there were anything I could do to assist her. To my great delight she seemed quite appreciative, and I started in my new 'job' immediately.
My work usually consisted of keeping the place tidy – when I'm alone I'm actually capable of tidying up faster then I'm messing – and occasionally looking after the place when Fluttershy is out visiting creatures that live out in the forest, like the bears and the beavers, or when shes traveling with her friends.
I found the work to be thoroughly enjoyable, and the animals seemed to like me. Fluttershy was very patient and taught me many tricks on how to keep the animals content and quiet. In time she started trusting me with bigger and bigger tasks and it was not long before I spent most of my time in her cottage.
My apprenticeship had lasted for at least six months at the date of the big autumn storm. Heavy rain and wind had made several rivers overflow and many trees were toppled. Fluttershy had her hoofs full galloping bravely from place to place trough the downpour to save as many animals as she could. In the meantime it was my job to care for the sick and wounded animals that had sought refuge in her cottage.
Not only was this stressful and difficult work, it was also very emotional. It was clear that not all the poor critters would survive the night. In fact, a few had already passed from their injuries and was now respectfully laid down under a tablecloth to be buried the next morning.
It must have been several hours past midnight when a knock on the door – barely audible amongst the constant drumming of the rain and howling of the wind – made me let out a sigh of relief. I imagined it would be Fluttershy finally returning, her hoofs to full of critters to use the doorknob. I was quite surprised to find on the doorstep, not the yellow pegasus, but an old friend. It was Applebloom.
Surprise gave way quickly for joy. I let her inside and gave her a big, squishy – and very wet – hug. We had both been so busy in our respective endeavors that we had barely seen each other for the last half year. I immediately felt a change over Applebloom. She seemed older, wiser and more confident than before, and when she removed the black coat that had protected her from the rain I saw the reason: a cutie mark!
The mark, plainly visible on Applebloom's flanks, depicted a vile of green liquid. The liquid seemed to glow, and the vile was tilted to one side, as if to pour the liquid over something. Applebloom stood silently for a while, clearly enjoying the attention, while I took in the sight of the brand new cutie mark.
“So, what d' y'all think?” she finally said, while strutting proudly across the floor of the cottage, as if making sure I got to see her cutie mark from every possible angle.
“It's-- it's amazing!” I stuttered, almost speechless. “So it happened then? A cutie mark in potion making?”
“Eyup!” Applebloom responded. “And well deserved too, if Ah'm sayin' so myself. Ah actually invented a whole new potion. One that none other never made before me!”
“Woah!” I exclaimed, completely stunned and awestruck. “What does it do? Was it difficult? How did you do that?”
Applebloom smiled at my excitement and took her time in enjoying the attention, before she took on a mysterious expression and lowered her voice to almost a whisper.
“Y'all ready to hear this?” she asked, and I leaned closer, as if she was revealing a dangerous secret. “Mah potion is real special. It's like nothing ever heard of ever. It got powers beyond even the Princesses and the most powerful zebra alchemists.”
I don't know if it was her voice or use of words, or maybe the darkness interrupted by occasional powerful flashes of lightning followed by deep rumbling thunder or maybe the combination, but I was now ready to believe about anything she said. Had she said her potion could turn a pony into a toad or a bear or teach a dog or a cat to talk or allow a pony to breathe under water I would have believed her without questions.
Nothing prepared me for what followed however, for after a potent pause to feed my curiosity and fill my brain with wild guesses, Applebloom finally revealed her secret.
“Mah potion,” she said “can cure death!”
At that instant, had I not been so tired, I would probably have asked her to stop joking about such matters and nothing else would have happened. I should have told her that only to suggest such a thing was a mockery of nature and blasphemy towards life itself.
As things was however I did not think straight, and that one mistake led to all the horrible incidents that followed, Sweet Celestia have mercy on our souls.
I, in my laughable childishness and damned naïveté, pronounced that one Tartarus cursed sentence that is the single spark that ignites any catastrophe just as certain as a bolt of lightning ignites a dry forest in high summer.
“Prove it!”
Applebloom smiled and reached into one of the pockets on her discarded coat and produced a small vial of glowing green liquid, just like the one depicted on her flank.
“Can do,” she said. “Ah'm gonna need a patient.”
As a final proof of my naïveté – or perhaps of my innocence – I did not immediately comprehend what Applebloom had just asked for. Had she let me reason my way to it on my own maybe I'd refused her. Oh dear Luna, why didn't I refuse her? She had no business! No pony has any right to meddle with nature that way! But I can't blame her! I'm just as guilty as she is, I enabled her and even helped her all the way; and yet here I am, haunted by terrors and nightmares, and she--
But she would not let me reason. Instead she pointed a hoof to the table where a dozen or so dead animals lay under a white tablecloth. A glow of eager enthusiasm had flared to life in here eyes; a glow I cannot recall without a shudder, but that – at the time – filled me to with a strong and urgent curiosity and even a glimmer of hope. What if it worked? What if Fluttershy could return in the morning, not to a dozen funerals, but to the news that she'll never need to bury another animal ever again! Oh how I cringe at thinking back at my own stupidity!
I removed the cloth carefully to let Applebloom choose her patient. She looked over them one at a time making some noises as one after another were dismissed. I did not ask for an explanation, but she must have felt my puzzled glance, for she gave me one anyway.
“The potion can bring back life,” she said. “But it can't heal no injuries inflicted neither before nor after death took place. A raccoon that died of a broken back will still be paralyzed – although alive – after given the potion. What we need is a complete, unharmed, but still dead, animal.”
I then think I heard, although I wont swear to it, that she muttered under her breath that she 'would've preferred to test it on a pony, but guess that's to much to be-askin' '. What I've told myself is that at the time I dismissed it as imagination and thought nothing of it, but the truth – the horrible damnable truth – is that I agreed! I believed in my friend and I wanted the potion to work! The only good thing that can be said about my blind, unthinking innocence is that it did not last much longer.
Applebloom finally found a suitable test subject; an old squirrel that died of a cold. She placed the squirrel on another table away from the other cadavers, she lit some more lights to properly see what she was doing and then took the cap off the vial of green potion.
I trotted quietly over to the other side of the table, burning with curiosity, but also with a vague creeping sensation of fear. Applebloom held the vial over the dead squirrel, ready to pour, but suddenly she stopped as if something had just occurred to her.
“Y'all should prob'ly back off a lill' bit,” she cautioned. “They're not always-- themselves when they're brought back.”
That comment did quite the job of turning a lot more of my curiosity into fear, but it was to late to turn back. Applebloom pored a few drops of potion into the squirrel's mouth and in a matter of seconds – that dragged on in complete silence as we both held our breaths – the squirrel started to move.
It started with small, seemingly involuntary, twitching in the front legs. Enchanted by the miracle playing in front of my eyes I moved closer without thinking. I couldn't believe what I was seeing; and yet there was no trick. The squirrel had definitely been dead, and now it moved. I stretched out a hoof to poke it and see if it was able to react, but Applebloom swept my hoof away in a violent fit. And not a moment too soon! Before I even realized what was going on the squirrel made a gruesome, guttural hissing sound and flew straight into Applebloom's face.
Applebloom did not seem nearly as surprised at this as I would have expected, although the sudden pain when the squirrel sunk its teeth into her nose was enough to make her shake her head until it flew across the room and crash into a wall, making several picture-frames fall to the floor with it.
But the squirrel was not done yet. Instantly after hitting the floor it was back on its legs, running around and driving all the healthy animals into a wild panic. I cold do absolutely nothing besides sanding numbed and look in terror as Fluttershy's cottage was rampaged.
Applebloom however was alert and active and was currently trying to attract the rabid little monster's attention.
“Get over here ya little vermin!” she shouted. “No rat bites mah nose and doesn't pay for it! Try another taste and see what happens!”
I was by this time positive that Applebloom had lost it completely, but it would seem her tactic worked. Soon the re-animated squirrel lunged for another assault on her head, but this time she was ready for it. She dodged the attack in the last minute and when the squirrel just missed her and landed hard on the wooden floor she lifted a hoof and stomped down on it hard. The sound of dozens of bones being crushed sent a violent shudder down my spine and made my stomach threaten to give me my dinner in return, but didn't seem to have any affect on Applebloom. Nopony spoke for quite a few moments, and the only movement in the cottage was a few animals that hadn't calmed down yet and Applebloom rubbing blood and fur from underneath her hoof. When the initial shock finally left me the next emotion to take command was fury.
“What the HELL was that?” I shouted at Applebloom, who backed away from my fury and looked rather apologetic.
“No wait, Ah-- Ah can explain!”
“Explain!?” I raged. “You told me you had a cure that could give life and what you give me is a poison that creates a monster, before you smear the corpse of one of Fluttershy's best friends all over the floor her living room! What could you POSSIBLY explain about that?!”
To her credit Applebloom cringed quite a bit at how I made it sound, but she did not take the hint and started an explanation in a cautious, humble voice.
“Ya see, the corpse wasn't fresh enough. When an animal dies the brain starts to--”
“Get out.” I said in an as dangerous and threatening voice as I could manage while still holding back my tears.
“But--”
“Please.” I said, tears now openly flowing down my cheeks. “I have a lot of cleaning up to do. Please-- Just leave.”
Applebloom opened her mouth, but had apparently run out of excuses. She closed her eyes, nodded softly and picked up her coat. As she turned towards the door a faint, barely audible “Ah'm sorry” escaped her lips, but I ignored her.
Applebloom left and I spent the rest of the night cleaning the cottage and burying the squirrel. I intended for Fluttershy to never learn anything about what happened, even at the price of having to lie to her when she asked me why I had been crying.
Fluttershy took my altered behavior – the crying, nervousness and occasional phasing out – as signs that I was over worked or over stressed, but I refused to take a day off. My work was the only thing able to keep my mind off what happened.
It was more than a fortnight until I saw Applebloom again, and that was when the real horrors began.
I spent the next two weeks watching Fluttershy's cottage and all the animals while Fluttershy was out doing all she could to minimize the damage caused by the storm. I had not seen Applebloom since the incident, but I had started hearing rumors.
Apparently the townsponies opinions about zebras had not changed too much, and there were a lot of mean gossip about how Zecora had taught Applebloom to be a witch. It didn't help too much that the only time anypony had seen Applebloom in a long time was during the worst storm in decades, after which she had locked herself in the apple farm cellar and not talked to anypony. Some even talked of strange sounds coming from that cellar in the black hours of the night and some of ponies disappearing without a trace, but the general opinion was those ponies were crazy.
Non the less, Applebloom seemed quite alone and even shunned now, and when I heard this I of course started to feel sorry for my friend. I was most certainly still appalled at what she had done, but she was my friend; and she had just been trying to help, so I felt I owed her to at least check on her and see if there was anything I could do.
I told Fluttershy I needed the next day off, and after a long, but somewhat disquiet, night of sleep I headed towards Sweet Apple Acres. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining from a clear, blue, cloudless sky and a fresh breeze made the grass and leaves weave and glisten in the sunlight; but despite the weather I felt a chill down my back. I could not put my hoof on why, but something was giving me a really bad feeling. I started to get really worried and paced up my walking.
When I got to the farm I could see Big Macintosh working in the field, bucking apples, while Applejack were in the farm house washing dishes. I waved to Big Mac as I passed him, and he waved back, but I could feel a certain coldness or gloom over the entire place. Applebloom was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed the rumors about her locking herself in the cellar were at least partly true. I hurried towards the cellar door under the barn, and was somewhat relieved at finding them closed, but unlocked.
The moment I opened the door I could hear a pounding sound, as of two ponies having a fight and one of them loosing badly, except I could hear no cries of pain or anger.
I hurried down the stairway, only to find Applebloom beating her granny Smith to a bloody pulp with a shovel.
I was too shocked by the grizzly scenery to do or say anything. The old green pony was laying I the middle of the room, her neck bent in an unnatural, sickening angle; her head was flattened and bloody, and her teeth and other parts of her skull were littered on the floor in small pools of blood. Applebloom was looking haggard and tired and her mane looked like it hadn't been washed or brushed for days. The wildness in her eyes as she brought the shovel down on the crushed remains of the other pony's head again and again chilled me to the bone.
It took some time for Applebloom to realize she was discovered. When she finally dis she froze, dropped the shovel and muttered timidly.
“This is not what it looks like.”
“You killed your grandma with a shovel?!” I raged, tears of anger and confusion in my eyes.
Applebloom's eyes widened and I thought I saw tears start to build up in her eyes as well, but her voice was firm and calm when she answered.
“I did not. I brought her back.” she stated simply, still fighting back the tears, but I could clearly see she was crying.
I backed up a few steps to reflect on that, and again my cursed naïveté took the command. Applebloom was just a little filly who had lost her grandma and would do anything to get her back. I was filled with an immense sadness and pity and decided then and there that my friend needed my support, not my scolding. I calmed myself down and spoke in a comforting, reassuring voice.
“So what's you plan?” I asked. “You can't let Applejack or Big Mac find her like this.”
Applebloom picked the shovel up in her mouth again.
“The walls are dirt, help me dig a hole to bury her in.” and, as an afterthought she added, “please.”
I picked up another shovel with my telekinesis magic and trotted over to the closest wall, but was interrupted.
“No, not that wall!” Applebloom exclaimed. “That one's take-- eh, that's where the house is, ya'll probably hit the foundations, take that wall over there.”
By what I can only call the mercy of ignorance I completely missed the implications in what she omitted – and did not recall it until it was way to late – so I started digging in the wall she had pointed out and after about an hour of work we had finally removed any trace of the dead older mare.
After the ordeal we were both dirty, bloody, dead tired and – at least I – mentally shaken. I nearly ruined a lot of work when a particularly big mass of brain tissue splatted on the floor, but Applebloom was prepared and handed me a bucket just in time.
“So, how are you going to explain this to your siblings?” I asked Applebloom when the cellar was finally cleared.
“Don't worry 'bout that,” she said. “she's been feeling unwell for quite some time now. It's quite common for older ponies to wander off at the end of their lives to spare their loved ones from having to find them. I'm sure that's what AJ and Mac will assume happened.”
“Okey--” I said, somewhat doubtful, but not having any better ideas I'd rather change the subject. “Now you need to get out of here. I know Pinkie is having a party at Sugarcube Corner tonight, and you and I are going. You need to get away from this horrible stuff and get some fresh air. Not to mention some socializing.”
Applebloom sighed heavily, but agreed to come with. We took a trip by my place to get cleaned up, before anypony could see us, and then headed to the party.
It must have been some party, for I can honestly say that I do not remember anything about what happened the rest of that day. The first thing I remember is waking up, ruffed up and bloody in my own bed, with a terrible headache and several smaller wounds that accounted for at least some of the blood. Judging from the light streaming trough the window it was already morning. I looked around and found Applebloom laying unconscious, but breathing, in a small pool of blood on the floor beside my bed, looking even worse off than I did.
The entire room was a complete mess, with most of the furniture toppled and a lot of it broken, and there were blood smeared on floor and walls. I could easily see from the amount of blood that there must have been a third pony in the room, and I quickly deducted from the direction of the blood stains and other even more obvious clues that said pony had left the room trough the window. Without bothering to unlock it fist.
When my vision became steadier and the throbbing in by head lessened I rose from the bed and took a peek out the window. There were a group of ponies gathered around what I soon realized to be two dead bodies. I could not see whose bodies it were from this distance, but it was no feat to deduct that they did not die peacefully. At least one had had her guts torn open, and there were a stream of blood flowing several yards down the road. A trail of blood went from directly below the window, straight across the two bodies and on out of view.
The group of ponies were talking loudly to each other, apparently on the verge of panic. From what I gathered a majority of them were urging for a witch-hunt; in a very literal sense.
“This is clearly the work of that witch!”
“How ca you say that? You have no proof, and how would even a little filly overpower two full grown mares?”
“Shes using zebra magic of course! And you talk about proof? How about the fact that she and Sweetie Belle were seen waking back here with Pinkie last night, and now she's missing!”
“Oh please. All those witnesses agree Pinkie could barely walk. Sweetie and Applebloom had to carry her between them. She's obviously still asleep and the two fillies were just helping her!”
“Well, then explain to me the trail of blood coming from Sweetie Belle's house! Oh dear Celestia, do you thing Applebloom got her as well?”
This conversation made me feel uneasy on more levels then I could comprehend at the time, but my immediate concern was the mob that wanted to chase Applebloom from town with pitchforks and torches like in some classic tale of horror.
I turned back to my friend who had started making some moaning sounds while trying to get up. I briefly summarized our situation to her and that it would be best if she left town as soon as possible. I also asked her weather she could recall anything from the night before. She said she didn't, and I learned that she is almost as bad a liar as her sister is, and a visible shudder going down her back also confirmed my theory that I was better of not knowing.
That, combined with the urgency of our situation made me not press the matter, and before long we agreed that she should leave for Zecora's hut, where she would be safe from the townspeople, while I went back to Sweet Apple Acres to explain to her family what was going on and that we were guiltless in these murders and disappearances; and then pray to Celestia that that was the truth.
On my way back to Sweet Apple Acres I made sure to let the worried gossipers know that I was fine and not at all killed by evil witch Applebloom; and that I had no idea what had happened outside my house, but that it could not possibly have been Applebloom since she had been inside with me until very recently. I seemed to loose a considerable amount of credibility though, when I could not account for where Pinkie Pie had disappeared to, and when I left the group I feel rather certain that not only had I not improved their opinion of Applebloom, but quite thoroughly stained their opinion of me as well.
I hurried the rest of the way to the apple farm, avoiding contact with any pony on the way, and spoke to nopony before I arrived and told all I knew, and all I'd heard to the two older Apple siblings.
Luckily Applejack and Big Mac were ready to believe in their little sister's innocence. They still insisted, however, that she needed help; and I did not try to convince them otherwise. We agreed that I would go to Zecora's hut and convince Applebloom to come home where her family could protect her. I decided to wait a few hours so we could sneak back in the cover of night and spent most of that time pacing, pondering over what could possibly have happened the previous night, and how all of this could ever end well.
It was late afternoon by the time I set out towards Zecora's hut in the Everfree Forest. Luckily for me the streets were empty. Police ponies were patrolling the streets on the lookout for an alleged 'wild beast or cannibalistic serial-killer'. Also lucky for me, the police did apparently not buy into the rumors about two little fillies being behind the murders, so as soon as I explained that I was out to find my friend and get us both to safety they let me pass.
The Everfree Forest was a scary place even in daylight, and the whole cannibal-murder-thing was not exactly helping, but I kept my eyes on the path and my trotting pace high, and before long I found myself in the little clearing where Zecora's little straw hut was built.
I knocked on the door, and found it was unlocked. When I heard no answer I nudged open the door and entered.
The hut was pretty dark. The only source of light was a burning brazier casting a eerie orange gloom over the room. Applebloom seemed to be working by a table covered in a white cloth. The brazier was standing behind her and on top of it a small cauldron stood bubbling with some thick, icky liquid.
Applebloom nodded to me, as to acknowledge that she had noticed my entry, but did not take her eyes from whatever she was working on. I stepped closer to get a better look at what it was, but the cloth and the darkness made it virtually impossible.
It was clear that Applebloom did not want to be disturbed, so instead of asking her what she was doing I turned around to take a look in the cauldron. At a closer look the slow-boiling liquid seemed to be a thicker version of the resurrection-drug. It was green and had a faint, eldritch iridescence. Floating and slowly rotating in the goo was a semi-spherical object about the size of a coconut. For a moment I actually thought it was a coconut, for it had the same kind of short blackish hairs, but as the boiling made flakes of the outer layers – apparently some kind of skin – peel off I could see small red fragments leaking into the gruel.
“Applebloom, what the--” I started, but as I turned back to face my working friend I could finally make out what was hidden under the white cloth. It was a body – the body of a zebra – but the head was surgically removed. Or removed with an axe or something, I couldn't really tell in the dark. The main thing was: Zecora was dead, and her head was being made into meat-soup with zombie-drugs as seasoning.
I had seriously thought that Applebloom had learned her lesson with the granny Smith-incident. I was so disappointed and angry that I almost started crying, but I decided to go trough with what I had come here for and bring her home. This time I would tell her family the whole story, and it would be up to them what to do. I had had enough.
“Come on Applebloom, we're leaving.” I said firmly.
“One minute,” she answered, still obsessed with whatever she was doing. “Ah've almost got this.”
“Got what?!” I screamed at her.
“Ah'm wakin' her back up.” Applebloom said whiteout braking of her work or expression in any way.
Her complete calmness had a strange effect on me. Suddenly my anger and fer was accompanied with curiosity.
“You are aware her head is boiling away in a cauldron, right?”
“Eeyup.”
I took a long look on Applebloom's face to see if she were mocking me, but she looked absolutely serious, so I kept going.
“You-- eh-- don't think that might complicate the whole back-to-life concept?”
Applebloom looked at me, as for the same reason I looked at her. I saw in her eyes a reflection of the same burning curiosity that I felt in my own head, and I knew she could see it in my eyes as well. She smiled.
“That's what Ah'm wanting to find out,” she said. “This, mah friend, is science!”
She was just about to do something to the headless corpse, and I was leaning close over her shoulder not to miss anything, when a horrible, unnatural, heart-wrecking howl made us both jump a yard into the air and fall on our backs. We were both staring at the corpse on the table, but it had not moved. It took us a moment to realize the howl had come from the boiling cauldron, but once we did, we were out of there in an instant.
I cannot tell how long we ran for, for we did not notice where we ran in the gathering darkness, and did probably not take the fastest way back to Ponyville. We did eventually reach the town however, and when we did we stopped running to avoid attract any attention from the police ponies still patrolling the town.
I started to notice that Applebloom's nerves were constantly on edge. She constantly looked behind her shoulder and got startled from the minutest things. The habit seemed infectious, for I found myself looking behind my own shoulder more than once.
I started to realize I only had knowledge of a tiny frame of all the things Applebloom had been trough. I started to wonder what could have happened in the two weeks between the squirrel and Granny Smith, and a recall to Applebloom's comment about a huge section of her cellar wall being 'taken' was far from reassuring.
As I was lost in such thoughts I suddenly walked straight into Applebloom from behind. She had frozen in her tracks right in front of me and was now shaking violently in what was clearly a state of severe shock.
Her previous fits of paranoia made me suspect that this was just some minor thing like a falling leaf or a squirrel – an alive, not undead one – that had tipped her over the edge. I tried to push her along, but her hoofs was like nailed to the ground. I took a peak over her, and took a great effort in not waking the whole town with a shriek of stark terror.
What I saw was two police ponies laying dead on the road. Over them stood a bent figure of a pony with a mane that seemed to once have been pink, but was now soaked wet in blood. The rest of the pony was also soaked from nuzzle to tale in blood and other less recognizable bodily liquids and -organs. The pony was missing several patches of fur on her back and legs, and one place I could even see all the way down to her skeleton that gleamed white in the moonlight.
The cannibal-murder-pony – whom I now recognized as Pinkie Pie – was busy ripping open one of its victims' throat with her teeth. I was desperately trying to shake Applebloom back to life, but she did not move. She only started to mumble to heself.
“This is mah fault,” she muttered. “Ah 'ave to fix this. Her victims are on me. Ah brought her up, I need to put her down.”
“No! Please, come with me, there's nothing you can do.” I pleaded while trying to nudge her along, but she was too strong.
“Ah'm pretty good at kung-fu, ya'll knew that?” she sad, starting to raise her voice who started to develop a hysterical quality. “Ah'm pretty sure Ah could kick that thing's head straight off. Ya hear that monster? Ain't nopony g'nna eat no police in mah town!”
At that moment she charged the ghoulish figure with a rather impressive flying kick to the back of the head. The undead pony, taken completely unawares, lunged headfirst over the dead police pony and crashed into the ground. A huge flake of skin and mane was ripped from it's head, but no sound came from it's muzzle. The thing stayed down long enough for me to hope beyond hope that it was finally dead for good, but before long it shambled to its hooves and limped away into the shadows, more out of confusion or disinterest than of fear I guessed.
“Hey, did you hear that?”
A couple of police ponies were rounding a corner down the street. I quickly realized how it would look if we were found around two dead bodies – Applebloom on top of one of them covered in blood and dead flesh – so I dragged her along and luckily she had snapped out of her worst shock and tagged along.
We eventually made it back to Sweet Apple Acres undetected and in one piece. Applebloom went straight into the cellar while I informed Applejack and Big Macintosh of our arrival. Out of loyalty to my friend – and I guess due to my shared guildt in what happened –, I omitted the details about what I'd seen in Zecora's hut, but I told them about the trouble on the way and begged them to lock us in the cellar where the crazed cannibal killer could not get to us.
The concerned looks they gave me made me suspect they were at least as worried about my sanity as about any alleged monster killer, but they made me promise to look after Applebloom; and they promised to check in on us during the night. The way they said it made me suspect they would be accompanied by ponies in white, but I said noting and went to Applebloom to keep her company.
From here on my story might get a little dubious. Most of the doctors agree I was already delusional at this point, but I have really good reasons to believe that what I write here really happened.
When I joined Applebloom in the cellar she was sitting in a corner with her back to the room. She did not react to me entering, so I sat down in a chair turned away from her and tried to get some rest.
I don't know if I dozed of, but I was soon alerted by the sound of Applebloom clopping her hoof at the wall. Then I heard the clinking of a vial, and then the buzzing of a fly. Then another clop of the hoof, that stopped the buzzing, and the whole ordeal repeated again and again.
Clop, clink, buzz; clop, clink, buzz; clop, clink, buzz.
I tried to lean forward on the chair and put my hooves over my ears; I even tried to hum aloud to myself to block out the sound, but with the rest of the room being dead quiet there were nothing I could do to keep the maddening rhythm out of my head.
Clop, clink, buzz; clop, clink, buzz; clop, clink, buzz.
This went on for what seemed like hours, non-stop. I can understand why – given what I claim happened next – the doctors choose to believe that during this time I fell into some hypnotic, delusional trance. Given that nothing of what I tell have been supported by any evidence, I do not expect anypony to believe me at all. What I tell is simply what I vividly remember seeing.
As I mentioned, this ordeal went on for hours, but then it suddenly stopped. The cellar was suddenly bathed in complete silence.
At first I took this new silence as a relief, but I soon grew worried. I realized that something had probably happened to Applebloom. I dreaded to turn around, for I already feared the worst. Or, at least, the worst I could imagine at the time.
I told you I had reasons to believe that what I saw was real, and that reason is that I could feel my brain snap the moment I turned around and took in that horrible sight. The sight that drove me to insanity could not possibly be a creation of my insanity, could it? And to even suggest that my innocent, unimaginative brain could conjure up such a phantasmal visage is simply laughable.
What I saw, made even more shocking due to the fact that I had heard nothing, was about half a dozen ponies – in different stages of deterioration – climbing soundlessly and slowly out of the shallow graves in the walls.
Applebloom was apparently in some sort of chock-indued trance, for she neither made any sound; nor did she make any attempt to move or get away from the approaching horrors. In the dark cellar I could not tell if she had fainted or merely accepted her fate, but it made little difference.
As my numb brain left me a helpless observer to this gruesome scene, the shambling, unholy monstrosities gathered around my friend's – hopefully unconscious – body. One of them appeared to be the leader or coordinator of the foul party, and my already taxed mind got another scarring blow when I noticed that that particular assailant had a blood stained coat covered in black and white stripes; and no head!
The dead ponies, Applebloom's former patients – or rather victims – lifted her body off the ground, each holding one limb. The headless zebra-corps held her head. Suddenly and without warning they all pulled at the same time and my best friend was torn to bloody shreds and pieces right in front of my eyes.
This is where my memory mercifully started to get blurry. I seem to recall seeing the things crawl back into the walls carrying each a sample of Applebloom's body, but this might very well be a delirium-induced dream.
The next thing I remember for certain is standing by the cellar door, knocking until my hooves were bloody and screaming until my throat was raw. I think I was crying as well, but I was out of tears, and my eyes were red and swollen.
Applejack soon rushed to my rescue and got me to the hospital. I had to answer many questions, but I think I mostly babbled incoherently for most of the time. After a while there were police ponies asking questions. They wanted to know where Applebloom was. I told them the truth. They did not believe me.
One of the police ponies got angry. He said there were no holes in the cellar wall and no traces of blood, as it obviously would be if my story were true. I started crying and the police pony was escorted out by the nurses.
The next day I got sent to the Canterlot Institution for Special Care. It's very nice here. I have my own room and all my friends and family can visit any time they want. Nopony except the doctor are allowed to talk to me about what happened, in case it upsets me. I still dream about it, but the doctor promises that the dreams will stop. “It is only a matter of time,” he always say.
I was not supposed to know this, but I know what happened to Pinkie Pie to. I peeked on a newspaper left by my door by one of the nurses.
She was captured in the act of killing and devouring a little colt. They say that when they caught her she was rabid and unresponsive, so they had to sedate her to take her in for questioning, but nopony could get her to say anything. She lives on the floor below me. They say in the paper she's got a psychotic breakdown, but I've heard the doctors talk and nopony has a clue what's really the matter with her.
Well I do. I even told them she's not supposed to be alive, but I'm locked up with severe trauma induced delusions, so who's gonna listen to me.
And Applebloom wanted to cure death, and caused more death and destruction than any pony has ever done.
Why does life have to be so ironic?
Author's Note
And its done.