//------------------------------//
// Good Dreams and Bad Dreams 
// Story: Nightmares Never Cease 
// by TooShyShy 
//------------------------------//

	“Scootaloo.......sweet child of noble pegasi......”
The voice was cold, yet welcoming.  It flowed tenderly into the filly's ear, practically caressing the interior of it.
Scootaloo halted, but only for the slightest moment.  Cheerilee had warned them to avoid the horrors that lurked behind disembodied voices.  She had explained, in vivid detail that spawned a formidable number of bad dreams, that spirits and such were not to be trusted.  She weaved intricate tales to the young ponies of travelers lost, killed, or driven to madness by the instructions and tricks of those they could not see.  
“Do not fear, Scootaloo.  You are among your equals.”
It was broad daylight.  Surely this was not a time for a voice from nowhere to be pursuing Scootaloo as she returned to her house.  Oddly, there was nopony around to aid the unfortunate filly, despite it being in the middle of the afternoon.  She wondered about this strangeness, but she was more concerned with distancing herself from the source of the disembodied pleas.  She increased her speed, her inefficient wings vibrating in an effort to help.
"What is wrong, Scootaloo?  Do you think they are your equals?"  
A cruel, high-pitched laugh that resembled that of Sweetie Belle caused Scootaloo to pause in her escape.
“Sweetie?  Is this some kind of weird joke?”
The response was another malevolent laugh, this time bearing resemblance to the country drawl of Apple Bloom.  But it only resembled Apple Bloom's laugh, for Apple Bloom's had never held such frosty antipathy.  The darkness etched around it chilled Scootaloo even more than the mysterious voice that somehow knew her identity.
“No one is equal to you, Scootaloo.  They laugh behind your back.  They shake their heads and smile at poor flightless Scootaloo.  Their love for you is from pity, not affection.”
Rainbow Dash's face, stern and unrelenting, swung at Scootaloo from the corner of her brain.
“Don't listen, squirt!  T--”
A flick of magic resonated through the air, strong enough to be physical.  This single flick silenced the wise words of Rainbow Dash, snuffing out the hint of her encouraging presence.  With this jab of magic, Scootaloo was utterly alone in this vacant town.  Alone to face a creature she could not see, touch, or fight.
“I can give you love, Scootaloo.  I can give you purpose.  You will serve all of Equestria in ways that nopony ever has.  Don't you want to be useful, Scootaloo?”
Useful.
Scootaloo allowed the word to unlock a door in her heart.  A door she had barricaded behind memories of a rainbow-maned pegasus she admired with a passion.  She thought of her parents, barely skilled in anything, yet working tirelessly at jobs that scarcely paid enough for their modest house.  She rarely saw them, as they would sometimes work for days without returning to their home.  Scootaloo had once believed that she could aid them, could be useful, by obtaining employment herself.  But without functioning wings, she was not even suited to entertain drunken griffons as her parents did to earn a living.  She could not properly prepare meals, she could not work, she could not even clean the house in a manner that satisfied even the most understanding of parents.  She could not be useful.
“Yes,” she whispered.  “I want to help Equestria.”
“You shall, Scootaloo.  You shall help Equestria.”
The world around her had begun to shift, although she had not noticed.  Now, with her words as a signal, it began to melt.  The sky, the grass, the buildings, everything, began to run into each other akin to scenery on a wet canvas.  Scootaloo did not seem surprised or curious about this unusual happening.  She stared, a very strange smile on her features, as the dream dissolved around her.
All that was left was an orange pegasus, gazing with blank eyes into the darkness of her bedroom.

Alone.
The word pounded in Sweetie Belle's skull like a second heartbeat.
I'm completely alone.  But why?
She had been having such a lovely picnic with her older sibling.  There had been no complaints, no bickering of any kind, and not the slightest hint of rush.  A beautiful day, a serene, laughing Rarity, a repast comprised of foods they both adored.  All had been flawless.  Then Rarity had suggested that her little sister procure some flowers to complete the image of a perfect picnic lunch... Now the poor unicorn filly was alone in the forest.  She could no longer hear the joyful humming of Rarity, nor, when she looked back, could she see her older sister's perfectly-styled mane.  She had somehow wandered deeper into the forest than intended.  However, she felt as if she had strode away from Rarity and into another realm entirely.  
I could be in here forever....
Sweetie Belle shivered, but attempted to lay a hoof on her courage.  Logically, she should be able to follow the path and it would lead her to where she had begun.  She would find herself in the clearing, where there was light, laughter, and protection.  More to the point, it was foolish for her to be in such a state of terror.  She had ventured into this very forest a few times previous, once or twice without any companionship.  If she could be brave once, she could be brave as many times as she needed to be.
But there was no path underneath Sweetie Belle's hooves.  When she turned, there was nothing to behold except the skeletons of long-dead trees looming menacingly before her as if prepared to attack.
“Rarity!”
The name burst from Sweetie Belle's mouth as her newfound bravery turned to dust.  With only a small prompt, she had relapsed back into her previous state of dread.  Her only comfort was that if she screamed, her sister was sure to come.  That was the one thing she could count on, regardless of how many times they were at loggerheads.  Rarity would always be at her side in moments if she shrieked with urgency in her voice.
“RARITY!”
Her heart nearly melted with happiness when the sound of approaching hooves met her ears.  She waited, excited and relieved, as they became louder and louder.  In less than a moment, she noted a familiar white and purple shape as it approached her, galloping quickly in her direction.
The Rarity that appeared did not resemble the one from the picnic.  The purple mane, once styled with the utmost care, hung limply across her head.  Entangled within the lifeless locks were thick cobwebs and deceased beetles.  Dripping from many of the strands was a dark red substance that seemed fresh.  The eyes, normally aglow with the aftermath of another brilliant idea, were hollow and devoid of color.  When the mouth parted, one could see two rows of maliciously pointed teeth coated with the same dark red liquid.  
“Ra-Rarity?”  Sweetie Belle stammered uncertainly.
The mouth parted.  The voice that drifted from it was as dry as the wilting leaves of autumn.
“Sweetie Belle, stop messing with my material.  Sweetie Belle, you've tracked mud all over my inspiration room.  Sweetie Belle, you ruined all of my hard work.  Sweetie Belle, why don't you just go away and leave me alone?”
The young unicorn felt her eyes burn with impending sobs. She knew this creature was not Rarity, that it only spoke words of false hatred to trick her.  And yet, the anguish she felt was too intense for a mere illusion, as if her real older sister had spoken those disparaging things.  Perhaps she had seen the words perched on the edge of Rarity's tongue on some occasion...
“It's sad, isn't it?  Such a clever little filly, shunned by her own sister....”
The nightmare version of Rarity had vanished.  Sweetie Belle was once again alone, but it was not the aloneness that scared her now.  It was not even the voice from nowhere that was making her heart pound frantically against her chest.  She was thinking of Rarity, of her parents, of.......
“Your parents complain a lot, don't they?  You always get in the way.  And when they try to give you to Rarity so they can have some peace, you start getting in her way.  It never ends, Sweetie Belle.  You can only disrupt the adults and their work.”
Sweetie Belle was always excited to stay with her big sister, even if it was a mere weekend.  But she had always been aware, somewhere deep in the bowels of her mind, that her parents found her to be annoying.  Her track record of being forcibly excused from family vacations and many other such events did not lie.  
“You're intelligent, Sweetie Belle.  You have potential, you have magic, you have power that would rival your sister.”
Power that would rival her sister, the brilliant designer who could do no wrong?  Potential?  Sweetie Belle had never heard such a word applied to her, even when being addressed by her optimistic teacher.  Nopony had ever suggested, even in jest, that she had potential.  Nopony had ever looked at Rarity's sister and seen anything more than that dismissive title.
“Skill needs a place to blossom.  Do you think it can blossom while you stand next to your sister, the holder of an Element of Harmony?”
Sweetie Belle shook her head.  She was too excited to trust her tongue at the moment.  She could only think of all the things promised if her superior power really existed.  If it was true, she was promised a role to rival Rarity's.  She was promised the endless respect that had once gone to her older sibling.  She was promised the admiration of her parents.  She was promised a life unlike she had ever known before.  
“You will have that place, Sweetie Belle.”

Rumble turned sharply in the fog.
Had he heard hoofsteps?  A single, shallow breath close to his ear?  A stifled wail of despair from a pony wronged?  Or, in the worst case scenario, all three to create one horrifying incident?
Rumble despised fog.  It was as if all the clouds in the sky had swarmed around him to blot out the beauty of the landscape.  Without validation that the endless sky, the pride and desire of every pegasus, still existed above him, his feeling of vulnerability extended dangerously.  He suspected that many pegasi must experience this at times when their view of the sky was obstructed for a long period of time, but it probed deeper into his emotions than those of the others.  
Many did not know it, but Rumble was not his older brother Thunderlane in miniature.  He was not recklessly courageous or attractive to females.  He was timid, chased by many fears, and easily frightened by the slightest noise.  The image he projected to outsiders was only that:  An image, produced for the satisfaction of those beholding it and not for any realism.  In the fog, the realization that everything he showed to others was a fabrication caught up to him.  This is why he hated fog more than anything else.
“Fly from your fears...”
An old nighttime song passed down from earlier generations of pegasi.  The lyrics had been altered over the years, transitioning a grim chant of brave warriors entering the battlefield into an innocent lullaby for young ponies.  Each race of pony had their own version of the lullaby, although only the pegasi knew its ominous point of birth.  On nights when storms seemed to be tearing the world apart, parents would croon the words to their little ones and assure sweet dreams.  Thunderlane had been the one to sing this to Rumble, a tradition that carried on through both clear skies and storms, until Rumble insisted he was too mature to enjoy lullabies.  
“Face your fleeting frights....”
“Face your fleeting frights” was easier thought than carried out in the fog.  One could not see whatever their fleeting frights were, therefore facing them was an impossibility.  Thunderlane wouldn't have let this detour him in any way, but Rumble was bitterly aware that he was not his older brother.  Departing the area with haste was more in sync with his personality.
“Running away again?”
The voice was Rumble's own, yet it had not come from his mouth.  
The fog was moving, but not in the way ordinary fog did.  It was not writhing or drifting lazily through the heavy air.  It was parting, akin to a door, as if the fog was a mere hologram projected onto a solid surface.  Behind the door, his eyes burning an unnatural shade of deep emerald, was a light gray colt.
“Always running, the little dweeb,” the other Rumble uttered scornfully.  “If only the other ponies could see what a coward you are.”
Rumble did not respond to this derogatory, yet factual, depiction of his true character.  Shutting out the frantic pounding of his heart, he was willing himself to awaken.  For this must be a dream, a dream from which he could escape with force of mind.  If he could flee this place by his own power, he need never visit it again and he would soon forget its existence, as was the way of dreams.  These things he chanted to himself, determined to find reality.  He had never wanted the real world, however falsified his role in it was, with such urgency.
“He runs from the truth.  He runs from everything he's scared of.  He runs from life inside of his own head.  But the joke's on him:  I'm the one pony he can't run from!”
Trying to thrust himself out of the world of dreams wasn't working.  Rumble had the sensation of falling deeper into his nightmare.  The more he descended into the abyss that was his dreamscape, the harder it would be to crawl out of the horror it had created for him.  Would his nightmare never let him go?
“Why run at all, Rumble?  There is a place for you, my brave little colt.”
At this unfitting adjective, Rumble paused in his attempts to awaken himself.  His eyes had been closed against the terror of his bad dream, but now he opened them to gaze at his other self.  He noticed that the other Rumble had a more muscular, sophisticated appearance.  His double carried himself with the type of preeminence and dignity that the real Rumble wished to adopt.  He was the “new and improved” version Rumble had sometimes fantasized about while admiring his older brother.  
“Brave?”  he echoed doubtfully.  “You just said I run away from everything.”
“You misunderstand.  You run away now, but that is because you have not found the hero inside of you.”
Hero?  Rumble had never thought himself capable of being a “hero”.  He might act the part in front of his comrades, but it took his own brand of heroism to pull off that elaborate farce.  He would never be the kind of pegasus whom saved others from immense danger.  
“Oh, you can be, Rumble.  You only need to follow somepony who can teach you.”
“Who?”  Rumble whispered, his mistrust weakening.
“Wake and you shall know, my hero.  Wake and you shall know many things.”

“I am disappointed by this lack of progress!”
“Patience.  All will...”
“You've said that every day for the past week!  How much progress have we made?  None!”
“None?  Shall I remind you...”
“No, you shan't!  I know what you're going to bring up!”
“You speak of no progress....”
“Are you suggesting that those pitiful fillies and colts are progress?  They might be better than nothing, but not by much.”
“We are closer.”
“Three inches closer than yesterday!  We've still got hundreds of feet to go.  And should we even talk about keeping our heads down?  Equestria is going to be banging on our door near the end of all of this and it will be much harder to keep up the act.”
“It is all worth the effort and wait, my dear.”
That was the vital truth that kept slipping from her mind.  When it was all concluded, it would have been worth the struggle. 
And she could smile blamelessly until the end.