Sweetie Belle currently had no desire to make an arts and crafts project. It was what she would normally do when bored out of her little skull, but it was all that she had been doing for the past few days. Rarity had learned to lock her workshop when she was gone for an extended period of time. There was no way that she could do any sewing. Apple Bloom was visiting family in Manehattan, and Scootaloo was off in Cloudsdale. There would be no crusading today.
She paced the carpet of her room, struggling to come up with an idea for entertainment. It would have to be indoors, Rarity had specified that she didn't want her leaving the house in this kind of weather. It would have to be something fun, she was too bored for anything else. Perhaps something nostalgic, that would be greatly enjoyable. Perhaps something constructive, that would be enjoyable as well. Perhaps both, that would be mindbogglingly enjoyable. Her boggled mind arrived to a conclusion.
"Building blocks," She whispered to herself in silent awe. They were a toy that was both nostalgic and constructive, perfect for rainy days such as this one.
She smiled as she reached underneath her bed, and prepared to drag out the large box that they had been stored in. She found nothing. Her hooves darted across the floor beneath her bed, finding stuffed animals, small rocks, and old magazines. But no cardboard box filled with building blocks.
The pleasant snapping as the pieces interlocked pervaded her mind. Thoughts of their glossy surface filled her with nostalgia. She must have them. They were the only thing that would keep her sane, the only thing that would make something fun out of an otherwise gloomy, and they were missing.
She grit her teeth in frustration, and checked underneath all of the furniture. They were not underneath the nightstand. They were not underneath the dresser. They were not underneath the floorboards. Had she been in a more complete frame of mind, she might have realized that lifting up floorboards with a hammer might be construed as property damage, but she was not in the right frame of mind for that. No, the siren sound of blocks snapping into place called to her. There could be no sanity while that pervasive tattoo beat and clicked in her head.
A thought roared over the imaginary clicking. Perhaps they were in the attic? Yes, she found the idea to be quite reasonable, even logical. It was a welcome reprieve to have a logical thought to challenge the continuous snapping noise in her mind. The entrance to the attic was in the hallway, and with enough precariously balance chairs she was able to reach the drawstring.
The chairs fell beneath her, and she was left holding onto the drawstring by the mouth. She eyed the floor with a strange sensation building up in her chest. Dread? Not quite, perhaps vertigo. Despite her extensive vocabulary she was not yet familiar with the word, and would not be for sometime. Though, if she were to be familiar with that word, she would most certainly use it.
The drop down ladder creaked, and unfolded, sending her to the ground. She winced, and wished that her forelegs were long enough to rub her tailbone. But her task was nearly complete. She carefully climbed the ladder, and looked around the dusty attic.
It was unexpected that Rarity would leave a room so unclean, but it was constantly out of sight, and by proxy out of mind. Sweetie Belle sneezed, and created a fine ring where the dust had been just before her. She shook her head, and climbed up, resting her hooves on the unfinished wood. She smiled at her prize.
There, just beneath the attic window, was a cardboard box. A cardboard box that called out to her with that sweet siren sound of the snapping of building blocks. She trotted to it carefully with a grin on her face. Nothing could stop her now, the pounding rain would not keep her bored, and the absence of her friends would not prevent her fun. She flung open the box, and reached in to grab her prize.
Her face immediately fell into a deep frown, her eyes went wide, and her pupils dilated. The look on her face was like some amalgamation of the darkest fear, the most legitimate disgust, and the most bizarre confusion. These were not her building blocks. She could not describe the objects inside the box, but she had a sneaking suspicion of their intended usage. She would not allow herself to think of the box's contents, but she promised herself that she would be washing her hooves post haste. She shut the lid of the box, exited the attic, released the drawstring, and never thought about building blocks again.
Rarity returned sometime later, and dropped her groceries in shock. Sweetie Belle was at the kitchen sink, still scrubbing her hooves and forelegs, muttering 'unclean' repeatedly. Rarity walked up to her slowly, and looked down at her.
"Sweetie," She said worriedly, "Would you like to tell me what's wrong?"
"Unclean," Sweetie Belle answered, still scrubbing her forelegs furiously. "Found the box." She poured more soap onto her hooves. "The box in the attic." She lathered the entirety of her forelegs. "Things in it. Terrible things."
"How long have you been scrubbing?" Rarity asked.
"Not long enough." Sweetie Belle washed off the suds. "They don't make water hot enough." She added more soap. "Things were filthy."
"What things, Sweetie?" Rarity squeaked, "What things are you talking about?"
"The things in the box." Sweetie Belle stopped scrubbing. "In the attic." She looked up at Rarity. "They had your friends' faces on them."
Rarity blushed, and fainted.