Quarantine: Aftermath. · 4:32am Feb 2nd, 2018
Friday. Another day of work, and another weekend with that...
Into the house Angelo comes, and onto the sofa he plops.
"Hi, Angel!" And there it is. That grating, high pitched voice. *whoosh.* Onto the sofa plops a small horse like thing, always sociable to a fault. Not anything like his good old sister Angela. Not the way he recalls her anyway.
*knock, knock.*
After a minute or two, they both turn their heads toward the door and bolt to it.
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Monica has had a rough month. Several killings and an abduction, plus another forced distortion. What could s/he to do about that? Not very much to do what with this being so unprecedented.
After pulling up to the twin's house, he entered through the backdoor, which never seems to be locked. This is dreadfully odd, as burglars will take every advantage they can when presented. Perhaps they know what kind of residents reside there and don't want to chance it. They are scared stiff. Frankly, so is s/he.
But he swallows it, and steps up the stoop, and knocks. The pounding is nearly deafening from that alone. Imagine if I had rang the doorbell, even with it being inside. There is a slight foreboding about the place, not because of the exterior look, but because I know what's inside, and within the residents.
The door quickly opens, and allows entry. "Oh, Monica, it's you."
S/he came in, and shut the door. S/he came to the den and took a seat. And quickly got up opting to stand, given what was on that sofa.
Nothing much had changed about the place, save the fact there was now one of those things under this roof, more than enough to make Monica think the owner obtuse.
But loyalty runs deep, whatever it is. I'd like to think no bad consequences would come from coming here. This wouldn’t be entirely accurate.
"How are we this morning?"
Angela spoke up. "We are alright. You I am not so sure of. Somethings up. Tell us."
I only glanced at her, but did not respond directly. "I have had my mind spun around a lot lately. More and more of these cute but creepy little horses turn up everyday, and everyday more and more crimes linked to them from both ends, giving and receiving have cropped up at an alarming rate. This morning I had to haul a dead one to the morgue. Somep- Somebody had slit its throat. I didn't need to be cautious about the fresh blood, but I did take gloves anyway, not only because it's procedure."
He facepalmed. "Must you refer to them as 'things' and 'its'?"
Sensitive Angelo. "Fine, she. There are riots breaking out everywhere. None that last too long, but they always crop up again. But the biggest cases are the ones involving missing horses. They always seem to be linked to some of those people with weird colored hair. A trip to Crystal Peak, maybe?"
"Several of them turned up at my doorstep trying to persuade me to go with them, and take Angie with them. They think I need a trip to Eques, that alternate reality they claim to come from. Said it would ease my worries. But I know when things are too good to be true."
Angela winced a little then said she's right here, and can account for herself. No one listened.
"I thought about that myself. I cannot fathom how being a technicolor freak is going to make your life less miserable, or hide anything. What's to prove? I went to investigate the aftermath of a riot today. La Cienega and Sunset. I took a square bullet to the head, and did not go down." I then scratched the little things under my cap.
"The radio said some of them were being abused around the place I mentioned. I was called to it, and put on my body armor. When I got there, there were bullets whizzing everywhere. I nearly caught one in the head. Then I actually did catch a twenty two squarely. I didn't believe it at first. Later an examination confirmed that mark was of a bullet, but it did not penetrate. Had it been a forty five... I don’t want to think about it. It still aches." I removed the cap and showed the animal ears on my head. They are used to it, but I refuse to show them to anyone else.
"Several of those bird creatures fell from the sky, riddled with holes, with a couple of bats for good measure. Security guards from a nightclub away from duty shot several of the ground dwelling ones with tranquilizers and stun guns, torturing them. Many were even in restraints. about twenty of them came to the rescue of the captive ones, only to get gunned down, most of which didn't react until the nonlethal ones were used. That did it. And the higher caliber weapons." Angelo crossed his legs, listening intently.
"I took my pistol and ordered the men at the barriers to stand aside. The blockage to the blocked intersection was crossed, and I drew my pistol, and ordered to bouncers and waitresses to stop. That made them let the hostages go. Then bullets rained from behind me, and I just barely ducked behind the barrier set up. I'm damn lucky to be alive."
Angelo then spoke up. "You aren't the only one with troubles concerning those freaks. One of those women with garish colored hair turned up at my door today. She said she deeply sympathises, and wants me to come with her to Eques. She had purple hair, and told me she knows what we were going through. That she overcame it with a trip to the Rocky Mountains, and a nice trip through an inter dimensional portal. When she came back from that place, she was back to her own usual shape, only purple haired. She was the first to tell us she wasn't one of those Equestrians. She said their name with only the utmost contempt. She almost bought me with that, you know?"
"No kidding. I heard they will use any means to persuade people to come over to their world and make themselves look like some weird alien horse, like the ones who intruded in the first place."
At this point, Angela turned her head towards the door, and she flicked an ear. She bolted toward it and through a doggie door that had been installed a month ago. She almost immediately jumped back in when the sound of loud knocking rang their ears, causing Monica and Angela to cover theirs on reflex.
"Hello, hello, hello. Is there a Detective Monica Bannister in this house? And an Angelo and Angela Sevil here? "
The set had already been muted, and none of us said a word. "I know you are all in there. I only have your own best interest at heart, and want your cooperation. If not I shall have to resort to force."
ANgie immediately cowered behind her brother and shivered and quivered. "It's one of those Equestrians. Only they come calling here other than you."
I took out my pistol and remained calm. Standing by the frame, nodding at the twins, I shouted.
"I have a gun. Go away. You aren't wanted here." The door came right off its frame so quickly, I nearly lost balance, and Angela scrambled to catch me. Go her!
When we recovered from the shock, a large woman in a long, flowy cerulean dress with a crescent moon embroidered in it stood there. Her hair had a similar shade, and there was what appeared to be an Angel's baseball cap on her head. Her shoes were a plain brown leather, slip ons. She reached out a hand and told us not to be alarmed, as she's only correcting a mistake someone very important to her had made. She promised not to hurt us, but we all must come. She crossed her fingers, then heart, then said she only does this when invitations are repeatedly rejected. Before I knew it, I felt a sharp blow to the head, then was carried into a van outside.
Being rapidly ushered in after me, the twins were forced into a seat, then restrained. I had been kept untouched, but could not call. My radio and phone had both been confiscated by them, and a needle similar to the one I stuck in my friend last month made me drowsy, but didn't knock me out.
The vehicle was roomy in the back, and four others were there. As if on cue, she introduced them from in front of the curtain obscuring the driver's seat. "Left to right these are Lyle Harper..." I didn't closely enough to catch them all, nor did I care to ask. But I caught the first names of each of them: Alex, Jacob and Chance. She said get acquainted. They weren't inebriated nor restrained, and seemed to be working for her, for they asked us ours, even thought they should know.
The one with the aquamarine and silver streaked hair asked me about my profession and what I did in it. I kept mum. Angela, bright little thing she is, spoke up.
"I used to be a seamstress. Worked for Red Cross for a day or two. The work was addicting, then I kept doing it in and out of shift."
"Excellent!" He said rubbing his hands together like it pleased him. We came to an on ramp, and picked up speed.
The other guy in the group spoke up. He had a trench coat and a silly mustache. "These two girls don't like seeing antisocial ponies." He nodded to the other two in his group. "It will be a lot easier for you three to be friendly with us. We'll be nice to you."
Angelo told them to buzz off, which caused the smallest one to snicker. A glance from the large man shut her up. She was comforted by the other young woman.
After a day of abduction, we were finally there, and we found ourselves in a miscellaneous wooden cabin. Nothing out of the ordinarily on the outside. When we stepped inside, half starved, they told us there was food inside. The crazy broad stepped out, followed by a girl with flame colored hair, which was also wavy like a flame. Even in my hunger, I tried to bolt, and was caught by the wench. But not with her hands. Suddenly, I felt like I could not move. I was frozen in place, then dragged to her by an invisible force.
"Doth thee wish to flee?" I couldn't shake my head. "A wink will do." My right eye shut once. "Cooperate" I blinked twice.
I could move again, but I didn't try. The other two were in her arms, and she was carrying them both like they were light as a feather. Draped over her back, caveman style.
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I could not see nor hear my brother nor my cop friend. Even if they weren't being nice to me, I had to to them. My apathy for one and outright meanness to the other caught up to me, and karma would only do worse things to me if i continued being an ass. What a phrase. But now their stance on me has turned. They look at me like some weird alien, and the real ones have captured us.
I wanted to go with them since day one, but Angel would always say no. Why? Each one would get ever more persistent until one day a tall, muscular one carried us out.
No more using dog door flaps, no more pushing the wooden bodies of unlocked inside doors in the house. Or relying on faucets with buttons or external handles to use the tap alone, having trouble when knobs show up. That's what they promised. But now I'm intimidated. A scary, yet seemingly trying to be friendly young woman with flaming red hair with golden flecks told me it'll all be alright. Just a trip across the mirror, a needle, a trip back, and they'll leave us alone.
Inside we came after Monica was taken away out of sight. The one with the short skirt and pearl necklace touched to door in a certain way, then placed an eye over a slot. It opened with ease and let us in. Feeling the smaller one's hand on my rump, I was pushed forward. No worries, I wouldn't leave my brother. I front of us was that mismatched woman, but now she looked more regal. Gone was her cap, leaving only her flowing hair in place. The firey haired one handed over a plain looking mahogany box, then a pine one. Out of the first came a silver crown studded with sapphires. The other produced a couple, nay, quartet of silver shoes. The clank confirmed they were real, as did the slight carbon on the surface. She shed her dress to reveal a crescent moon mark on her left hip, which had no lingerie on it. Her chest was flat as can be, but her abdomen had six tiny knots that were barely noticeable, and likely wouldn't be had my eyes been their usual size. Just mere knobs, nothing worth noting.
"Is that a birthmark or a tattoo?" She looked at the mark, then giggled. Angelo psst'ed at me, then made a "cut it out" sign.
She laughed then said I was on the right track. I will find out soon enough. She's beautiful.
After promising me answers after a meal, she had Alex and Chance take us downstairs to the basement, which is huge compared to the humble place upstairs. There were two others sitting there, both small horses not unlike meself. One had an orange coat, and a stern look, focused solely on his food, a mix of weeds from some random yard maybe. He had a mark around his hindquarters, one that looked like a monitor with a flame and a spark on its display. The other was a mare with purple hair, similar to the woman I saw yesterday before she was driven away from out door. Just as stern was she, mumbling something. She also had one, this one on the opposite side, and it looked like a rotor when I took a peek. When My brother and I cleared our throats, he jumped and she screamed. Staring angrily at us, she screamed to get out, which we did, immediately. Galloping in were two thestrals, one with a dress on her back, the other a cloak. When the guy spoke, he said we could come in in a monotone.
The plain black dress was now on the mare, and the stallion had the cloak, one had a photograph of a monitor with a lightning bolt on the screen stitched into it, the other a more real, detailed rotor on it, with a pile of gold coins beneath it. And the initials WL. The other had initials, too: MW. "So, they finally got you too, did they?"
"Yes, but isn't that good."
"Oh, sure, now, but see what happens after you stick around them for more than a week consecutively. They'll have you adapt a nickname, which shall soon be deemed a real name to them. They never change their tune concerning that."
Angelo spoke up: "What's this place like, anyway? They said we'll find our answers in a place we need to go."
The guy spoke up:"Directly over us in a room that's always locked is a mirror that allows you to step into it. Beyond is a world populated by a variety of creatures, including ones that look like us. The place itself is like a painting or an illustration on a page, only real. Everything's too perfect, perfect looking, and nothing has texture until you touch it, or it does, and you see all the textures have the same identical patterns within whatever the thing is. Basically, animated people are real, just like you and me. You know that film, Who Framed... whatever it was called."
"...and if they were, I'd gladly dump bleach all over them, hah hah!" The purple haired mare burst into riotous laughter before the stallion smacked her. She gulped, then shut up real quick. Is she a sadist? Does she get off on killing?
"We apologize for her." In the next room, a voice came through, and a familiar voice emerged from the body of a young colt with an aquamarine coat, and hair like the man who greeted us warmly before. Another aquamarine coated one, a mare stood next to him, and next to her, another mare, this one a cream coated pony with a mane of lime. Behind them, a lager dude with a wide brimmed hat not wide as the straw sun hat the blue tinted girl is wearing , but enough to obscure his eyes.
"We apologize for this." The latter spoke. "She's not usually this abrasive. She's actually quite mellow when not provoked. This is quite rare for her."
"That's quite alright," Angelo stated. "We're used to being insulted, and hearing freaks..." I winced. "... get grilled. They're even getting killed."
"That," Stated Jacob, who I finally figured out which was which, "Is why you three are here. You must go to the world we came from to see any one of my wide circle of friends there. The most likely you will meet are Barbara Dusk and Elusive, a couple living at the end of a town you will cross. Outside is a large sign that reads PV. There you'll see a huge apple orchard. When you see a young woman with brilliant red hair and a mark of a shield tending the field, (everyone is au naturale there, so it's visible) you ask her for the residence of Barbara Dusk and Elusive. She'll lead you there. If they aren't available, Cupcake and Rare with the Cake twins can be found in the bakery."
"Wait a minute. You are sending us alone?" Angelo's being oddly receptive of this. It pleasantly surprises me.
"Yes! The Princess has better things to do than to worry her pretty little head over stubborn ponies like you getting medical help." Alex then produced a photograph and gave it to me. In it were a humanoid being with lizard like features and bat wings, and another horse next to it.
Chance then showed up and gave Angelo his reference picture, another horse, this time with a large hair bow ribbon wedged between two others, both mares likely. Likely Cupcake and Rare. Alex and Jacob both confirmed this. Upon closer inspection, two little letters were written just underneath the ginger one: AB. Is that what they call her?
After being rushed up, we saw Monica again, then all three of us were shoved towards the mirror.
Elusive, Barbara, Cupcake, Rare, AB, Cake twins, here we come!
I struggled quite a bit to even come up with what I would say after reading this. I think I have a few pieces of advice to make your writing more comprehensible. This submission was difficult to get through, but could be improved with a few material changes.
1. NEVER abbreviate, never obfuscate, never be coy... with proper nouns. You use words like "horse creatures" over and over again long after a proper name would have existed. It would be a bad idea to use another name (than the correct one, "pony") even if you invented one, because of reader understanding. Reader understanding is a precious resource. If you run out before the end of some writing, a reader will stop reading. Use the names for things each and every time. Don't dance around them in your language. It makes your story difficult and boring.
2. The same applies double to other proper nouns. Absolutely none of this "rare" and "cake twins" garbage. Either invent your own entirely new characters with no inspiration in the original canon, or don't. You cannot have your cake and eat it too by doing no creative work of your own but claiming they're different because of different names. No. Absolutely not. It's so dumb literally every time I saw one of those names I had to put the story down and do something else for a little while.
3. When you have a scene with a large number of characters, DON'T keep switching between them with anything other than their names as a reference for your readers. The scene where they're in the truck with the (completely pointless) parade of main characters, you switch between these characters without naming them. Instead, you describe them by traits--by the color of their mane or something. Stop it. Use names. Names can be misused and abused, but you aren't to the level yet where you can decide not to use them. Basically, any time a scene has more than 2 characters, you should always name people as you go back and forth. Do not make exceptions.
4. This is another piece of advice I've given you before, so I question whether you are capable. But I will try again anyway. DO NOT use euphemisms and cliche in any of your writing, ever. A very skilled master can make use of these things, but that is not you. Not only do you often misuse them, but every time they are used correctly they still feel clunky and silly. Absolutely no phrases like "buzz off" or "mum." At this stage in your development as a writer, you should stick to words that are used in conversation by regular people.
In short, to summarize all this--you need to decide if you're writing for other people or for yourself. If it's just for yourself, then you can go ahead and ignore everything I just said. Just don't go around and beg me or others to review your work if you're making it knowing it's just for you, because I reserve the right to ignore those requests forever if I see you continue not to listen to criticism.
IF, ON THE OTHER HAND you want other people to read your work, then I think you need some serious soul-searching. You need to break down your writing to the most fundamental level, and work on implementing the advice I gave you.
I'm going to be extremely blunt here, because I don't want you to waste your time. The writing I just read was so incomprehensible I couldn't even make it to the end. It was so poorly composed that I cannot even begin to criticize the deeper problems of inconsistent characterization, or plotholes, or any of that, because the writing itself isn't even cogent enough for those details to come through.
If I were you and I wanted to keep writing for other people, then I would want to realize that I had a very long and arduous road ahead of me. Many, many lessons to learn, and many, many hours of work to do. I love writing and would be willing to put in those hours, as I have. You must be willing to do the same if you want to continue down this road FOR OTHERS.
Again, if you're only writing for your own enjoyment, then by all means ignore everything I said. Lots of people want to write themselves a "trunk novel" they enjoy in their own time and for themselves alone. That is fine, I respect and admire that, but please stop asking me for reviews if that's what you want.
If, on the other hand, you realize the enormity of the mountain before you, but are still determined to climb it, I am willing to try and help, so long as you are actually implementing my advice. If not, then there's not much point in my reading any more of these.
The choice is yours.
Alright. I think I'll refrain from asking for any more criticisms again any time soon.
1. Nothing I have written has ever had any good to it, apparently, and frankly I should not care. I should learn how to say, "So what?" Apathy is always healthy. It prevents you from caring about anything. Then you can never be disappointed if you never have any ambitions nor expectations.
2. Yes, I think I have learned a couple of things. I won't have expectations from this point forward. They only cause disappointment.
3. No more "Alex, Jacob, nor Chance" names. That only proves the writer is braid dead or dumb. Has no imagination of any kind. If I should use them again, the next time will be far away from this site where such things are a dime a dozen.
4. Have they consistently worsened with each thing I have written? I think I recall you having stated on the previous to this it's not like me to write something as terrible as possible intentionally. I have no idea what you have to gauge this on. Outside Quarantine, did you see any evidence I wanted to write something good? Not saying they were trying to be awful as possible.
5. Define "cliche."
6. I'll get rid of everyone else and keep Lyle Harper. No one needs four ponies to restrain three Earthlings. The rest are all stolen anyway.
7. In order for there to be a plot hole, there must first be a plot. You cannot very well have a hole in nothing. I think I have been fairly consistent in this with what outline I have produced.
8. Watches are for artists and authors of stories, those who write real stories and produce drawings and so fourth. I have done neither. I have no idea how I even got two in the first place. I can't imagine how I even got the first one, as I had not written any stories at all at the time.
9. I think writing for my own enjoyment sounds like a good idea. The thing is, it's writing that's enjoyable. The final product always disappoints. It may have been foolish to want recognition in the first place. I can certainly tell you I never wanted to get popular anyway, only to write ideas that popped into my head, and what one or two others thought. Since nothing I wrote has improved anyone's experience here, I will not try to do so at all.
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To top it all off, Coming to FiMfiction was a mistake, but I'm not leaving. I'm hooked. Now I must do what I can with it. And if I should go elsewhere, I will never ask for anything. Just do as I must, and presume no one will ever see them, because they won't. This apathy will prevent being upset.
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Never use abbreviations. Does this include things like TD Powell, which is a proper name another writer invented? Or reveal an MC's full name in the final chapter after only know the first letter most of it? What difference is there between these two things and calling someone AB?
Third paragraph, final line. I had to put it down and do something else every time I saw one of those stupid names. It's not very long a write. If one could not take it in one sitting, it had to be unpleasant. Presuming everything I have ever written had this exact problem, why not call them out the first time they are done, before they got to this point? Nip it in the bud and all that?
Fourth from the end, could not read clean through it. If everything I wrote had this problem, you might have told me then, and avoided this. This isn't very long. Does the claim you still have no regret for seeing/reading these hold up?