HOWLERS IN THE DARK
June
Some ponies call me strange. I can understand this.
What I do not understand is why they act surprised whenever I behave in that manner.
Especially now, beneath the light of the fading sun, the last stragglers in the daylight rush to escape the shadows. The last thing they need to fear is me.
Couldn’t they feel it? The poisoning in the air, creeping down your throat and latching to your lungs, tickling your spine.
I’m surprised there aren’t more ponies like me in this town. The sickness in this place must be infecting everyone, but only I show the symptoms.
I look around at the dusk ponies on the street. I’m walking towards them. I want to ask them if they feel it, even though I can already see the sickness in their eyes. Some of them notice my approach and beat a hasty retreat. The ones that don’t leave probably hope I will pass by.
“Hello,” I say, “Can you feel the disease in the streets and buildings?” A perfectly reasonable question, since you would need to be dead not to. They look at me with false smiles to match my genuine one, each turning to the other for a response.
“Sorry, mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says a little one. The others nod and murmur agreement. Why are they lying to me? I can see the sickness in their eyes, hear it in their voice, yet they lie straight to my face? I step closer angrily and they recoil.
“It’s all around you! Don’t lie to me!” I say harshly, feeling even as I speak the tickling on my spine as the vileness deepens within me. They turn and flee quickly, skittering down the street. I don’t follow them, instead I laugh to myself. The thing killing this town could not be escaped. The little fillies and colts would realise in the coming weeks, and then they would ask me what to do. They will beg for forgiveness and plead for my assistance. It is inevitable.
Of course I will grant them assistance. The disease must be killed. Why treat the symptoms when you can destroy the source?
And therein lays my problem. I am not exactly sure where or what the source is.
I continue down the street. The little ponies have long since left my sight, vanishing into homes or down side streets. It’s quite dark now, the last of the sun smoothly sliding beneath the horizon. Shadows grow and stretch their twisted limbs across the road.
Ahead, a stallion stands solemnly, shivering son sheltered in silence. It’s one of the little ponies parents, of that I am certain. He looks angry, and the child cowers beneath him, most likely due to tales built and told from our terse encounter. He hails me as I draw near.
“You there! Sir, I don’t appreciate you scaring my son. Mind telling me the meaning behind your behaviour?” his tone is gruff but his eyes are sick. When they ask me for help, he will be too far gone. It’s sad to think the child should lose a parent to something they could avoid if they listened to me, but there are always sacrifices.
“I only asked him and his friends some questions,” I reply evenly, feeling the corners of my mouth twitch as the tickling increases.
“Yeah? Well don’t do that. Don’t go near my son or any of his friends ever again, freak. Understand?” he steps closer, using his height to intimidate. I struggle to contain my laughter.
“I understand perfectly.” He isn’t going to step aside, clearly, so I walk around him and continue down the street. I am barely ten strides away when the first giggle escapes my mouth. The further I walk, the more I laugh.
The streets are lined with cages, out of which scared faces watch me pass. I forgive their fear. The sickness must be getting to them by now, and it will only get worse over the next couple of months.
While I walk I notice the streets aren’t all deserted. Lying peacefully on a bench, a filly pegasus shivers in the brisk, poisoned air. Unaware of my approach, her breath is even. When I speak, it quickens considerably.
“Hello there. Do you know where bad things come from?” I say to her. Her messy purple mane covers half of her face, and the other half is pure fear. Is my face truly that terrifying?
“S-Sorry, I don’t understand,” she replies in a shaking voice. I notice her dishevelled appearance in the light of truth for the first time. The little filly is homeless. It’s sad; the sickness will take her even quicker than the father I spoke to.
“Where do bad things come from?” I ask again in a more direct manner. She shifts on the bench, pushing herself slightly further away from me as she replies a second time.
“The Everfree F-Forest has lots of bad things in it; I hear grownups talking about it. Howlers in the dark, they say.”
The Everfree Forest? Finally, somewhere to search for the source! I should have thought of it earlier. The largest forest in the land, bordering so many villages and towns, it would be the perfect place to start poisoning the ponies. Somewhere, I’m sure, hidden behind lying branches and deceptive leaves, the source waits for my arrival.
The creak of a door opening behind me takes my attention. One of the scared residents has left the safety of his cage and looks at me from his yard. The little filly slides further away from me down the bench.
“Hey!” calls the brave pioneer standing outside his cosy house, “You just move along, y’hear me? Leave that filly be.”
I bow as a reply and continue my night foray. When I reach a safe distance, I look behind me. The pioneer has returned inside and the filly remains shivering on the bench. The stallion was aware of the homeless pegasus near his house and even ‘protects’ her, yet she remains outside and he inside. May the disease take them both.
My path inevitably takes me to the outskirts of town. With the sun well and truly set, there is nary a light to be seen except from the cages. Not all shadows will recoil from simple light, surely they realise?
Some still watch me from the windows. I feel like a zookeeper inspecting his animals. Are animals supposed to look at you in fear?
Looming at the edge of town is the black forest. The Everfree. Not quite as beautiful as the name suggests, it’s a mess of dark brown and blue under the stars, cracking arms raised to the sky in worship. The perfect place for the source.
And yet, as I stumble through the tangle of weeds and roots under the canopy, I cannot help but feel the purity of this place. There is no disease here, no poisoned air. The forest is completely free and untainted. I should stop and think and consider other places to search for the source, but I am entranced by the clean air filling my lungs that I cannot help but continue.
Chirping of insects as they flutter in the night calms my heart, making me forget about the sickness for a little while. Some part of me thinks I should turn back, but I crush it, refusing to listen.
The ruins of an old stone house climb forth from behind shadowy trees. I’m excited by it. My current home reeks with decay, the black evil seeping into the wooden frame. It would not serve me well should I try to kill the disease from there.
But this, a beautiful broken basilica betraying a bliss otherwise burned from being, this will be where I save everypony.
Half of the roof is gone, blasted away some time ago by a storm most frightful, but the structure is remarkably intact. I step inside the bare doorway to inspect the interior. What I find is a most pleasant surprise, for there is old furniture littering the floor.
Though musty and old, the large armchair with stuffing falling out couldn’t feel any comfier as I climb atop it. Rats skitter across the ground and into cracks in the wall and spiders hang quietly from what’s left of the ceiling, yet I can only feel happy as I close my eyes.
Tomorrow, I will begin planning and gathering materials. For tonight I will sleep easily, the sickness tamed by my surroundings, at least for now.
I laugh myself to sleep.
July
I am the only seeing pony in a world of the blind.
The disease is spreading through the town faster now, almost as if it knows I’m working to defeat it. Over the last month, I successfully scavenged enough spare parts from various homes in the town to begin building. The machine still requires a lot of work, but it’s making progress.
The forest remains a bastion of health in a poisoned world. I can still feel the sickness within me but when I’m in my forest home the effect lessens considerably.
Yesterday I watched a flower die in the middle of town. I watched each petal curl up and blacken, then drop to the floor like an autumn leaf coated in tar. Nopony else was watching, even when I tried to show them. They would avert their eyes and hurry past. Surely they cannot ignore it for much longer?
That homeless filly saw me again when I was scavenging from a letterbox. I tried to greet her but she ran away. Perhaps I frightened her with all the metal I was carrying?
A week ago I was confronted by three stallions as I roamed the streets gathering parts. They didn’t take kindly to my existence, apparently, and left me quite the worse for wear. I haven’t let their ignorance stall my quest, though, and I continue to make small forays into the town when I need more metal.
This is where I stand now, in blackest night, borrowed saddlebags brimming with an excellent haul of scrap metal. I think to myself that I will truly be able to make good progress over the coming weeks. I can only hope I will finish in time.
Is it early morning or late night? I cannot tell and I have been out for a while now. It matters not, I suppose. I am not troubled as much by other ponies when it’s dark.
I quickly return to my forest abode. The path is familiar to me now, I remember each rock and tree. The broken house is as broken as ever, but it still provides the safety I seek. Inside, a twisted sculpture of broken appliances and wiring. Plans litter the floor and I step gingerly between them, careful not to disturb any pieces. Everything has to be just so if I want my machine to work.
Wasteful residents are my greatest friends. I cannot express my surprise at the things that are thrown out that can still be used. Three hundred ponylengths of wiring, just lying there as if broken. I was a very happy pony that day.
What I couldn’t find as scrap, I manufactured with the assistance of magical devices that I borrowed from some kindly sleeping unicorns. Certain elements were now in my possession that would prove key to the destruction of the sickness. I will burn it away. I will burn it all away, and we will be clean and free.
I sometimes think somepony is watching me work, from the windows or the sky, but they are always gone when I turn around. If the diseased townsfolk became aware of my idea, I can only imagine that the sickness would force them to stop me. I must be extra careful to remain undetected on my next foray.
The machine is taking a long time, it is fortunate I have the instructions right here in my mind. This project was the culmination of everything I have ever learned, and it will change the world. Perhaps when I have freed this town, I can move on to the next and free them as well? I chuckle to myself as I imagine the shift in roles the townsfolk and I would undergo. In a few months, they would look up to me in awe as I cured the world of this darkness. Only the light can destroy a shadow.
August
The sickness can feel the approaching doom, of that I am certain. I walk through this town in broad daylight, but to my eyes all I see is darkness. Ponies look at me passing and whisper to each other, planning against me. They know what I’m doing.
The only thing keeping them away is my forest. It remains uninfected for now, and I find myself increasingly hesitant to leave it. Only necessity draws me away from my broken home now. The machine is very nearly ready. After months of work and scavenging, tirelessly working to protect the ignorant residents of this evil town my plan will reach the zenith I have dreamed of every night.
I realise I am laughing, and I laugh harder when I look around at the ponies, most of whom are backing away from me. I want to encourage them to laugh with me, but they just look scared.
“Fear not!” I shout, “I will free this town! You should rejoice!” My words serve only to incite further fear and draw the attention of a wary stallion with brown hair.
He may as well be coughing and bleeding with each step for the amount of evil coursing through his veins. His words drip with venom that I hastily avoid.
“Listen pal, you’re scaring the ponyfolk. Maybe you should move along.”
I giggle once more at the irony. A horribly diseased pony is telling me how scary I am. My giggle turns into a cackle, but I still retreat. The sickness cannot stop me by sending its thralls to converse with me.
As I leave, the crowd parts for me. Someday soon, they will do that out of respect rather than fear.
Laughter continues to escape my lips, softly now so I don’t attract too much attention.
Back in my stone home, the machine is all but ready. In a few days, I will drag it into town and cleanse everypony of their pain.
It’s night now, and the forest withers. Finally, it begins to fall under the dark shroud like so many organisms before it. While I had hoped for more time, I clearly am out of options. With the machine nearly done, there would be no sense in retreating further into the forest. Better to confront my enemy before it grows even more powerful.
A strange thought occurs to me as I scan the sky for my invisible watchers. What if ponies are the disease? It seems we kill everything we live near. Why, that would explain the forest as well as the town. I already know I am infected, so I must have spread it to the untouched forest. This is groundbreaking. My machine will still fix it though, of that I am certain. The time draws near.
September
Any hope of restoring the ponies has been lost. They are all well and truly doomed. The sickness is too deeply ingrained in their bodies, and in mine. I accepted that I would have to make sacrifices a long time ago. In another world, another time, they will thank me. They will beg for forgiveness, and I will grant it to them. I’m nothing if not benevolent.
I’m taking the machine into town now, making my way through the forest. Ropes are tied around me and it is slow work, but I am making progress. There are noises in the forest, ponies calling to each other, talking of me. The sickness must have sent ponies to get me before I could bring the machine into town. No matter, I have avoided them thus far.
They scream to each other, a noise which I can assume means they have found my plans. It’s too late to catch up to me if they only just reached my house. Their panicked voices howl in the dark. I’m scared. For me, and for them. To lose their minds so completely and be controlled by a disease of pure evil is not a fate I would wish upon anyone.
The town is tense and rigid as I enter the town square. My machine is a thing of beauty, but from the looks I receive it may as well be a harbinger of death.
I climb atop the machine, anticipation building in my chest. This moment, this is what I have been working towards. The crescendo towards the pinnacle of freedom that I am about to initiate.
I just cannot stop laughing.
The ponies who had been looking for me in the forest gallop into the town square shouting. People start screaming and running in panic. I shake my head, still laughing. The efforts of the sickness were pathetic now.
“Finally!” I yell to the heavens, “Finally it’s done! It’s finally done!” I roar with laughter as the ponyfolk scream.
“Stop him!” they shout, “He’s trying to kill us all, stop him!” Some stallions approach my machine, fear and death upon their faces, bleeding through their eyes.
“NO!” I thunder, my voice as powerful as the machine beneath me. I raise my hoof over the activation plate. “I’m going to save you! I’m going to save you all! Don’t you try to stop me!”
They look at me, all of them, dark blood seeping from their skin, coating the floor, spraying the town in death.
“Get away from me! This is your redemption day everypony! Go away from me! Stay away from me! Go awayhahahaha! You can’t touch me now! You see this button here? I’m gonna press it!”
I slam my hoof down on the plate and the world shatters in a chorus of pain.