The Shadow Over Seagift

by Monsignor Gabriel

5. Ruins

5. Ruins

The rain petted me, soft and impotent as the storm ceased. The veil of mists parted away, as we stood upon a hill overlooking a small, muddy path. And we saw it in it's completeness. A gale whipped at the shore and at our faces and against the wooden structures, and the town gave a great moan as it's boards creaked and shifted against the great breathing of the ocean, a living beast that had clearly punished the town with his crushing, terrifying presence. We had arrived. We beheld the town of Seagift at last, after 3 days' travel, 3 days' talk, but apart we were no more.

I looked at the girls, and in silence we assumed, correctly, what the others were thinking, as though we were reading our minds, but we couldn't possibly do so, could we? They followed after me, single file, as we treaded the muddy path down to where the town sat, nearly below sea level. Our hooves were covered in mud, and we would see no reprise despite us stepping into the town proper, as the roads were not maintained here either. And as Seagift embraced us, we came to know it like a brother. Even from atop the hill, we could tell what the town was like: it was wooden, but much more refined than Deepwood, with boards rather than straight logs constructing it. Once upon a time, this town was great and rich and maybe even homely, like Ponyville. But now, it was not; once upon a time was long ago. The town did not stir from above, and as we approached it, it did not stir upon closer inspection. I assumed, at the time, that it was still abandoned. It was a ruin. A wound. A festering boil. A mistake.

We detected an odour we had tried to grow familiar with, thanks to the raincoats, but now it overpowered us and set our noses to burn and our eyes to water, and Rarity to feel dizzy: dead fish. The town reeked of it; the buildings seemed to produce the smell, and yet it also wafted from the ocean. It had become a part of the town; I could swear an invisible but thick miasma of the odour wrapped around us like a python, though I knew for a fact it was merely fog and mist from the prior storm, though I am sure now that even this was infected with the smell. The buildings seemed to emanate with an aura of decay. I saw the wooden houses' exterior walls and confirmed it's spirit: the wood was rotten with little exception, with mushrooms and lichen and moss growing in great patches. With every whistle of the wind, we heard the entire town emit a creaky cry of supplication, wishing for the charity of a final death. The signs over the buildings that were once businesses were faded and liquefied, or, alternatively, mouldy and haphazard; one sign read "BRAND - INE SA OO ", another "GENER L O RE", and yet another "HAIR ND H F". As we treaded the muddy places in between the buildings, I caught a subtle whiff of an after-smell underneath the great wall of dead fish: I smelled pine. Pine trees. The wood of the town was made of pine, from the nearby forest.

A curious thought entered my mind as I caught the scent of pine. I thought, "these are not houses. They're coffins. For dead fish." Then and now, I find the thought oddly amusing. I feel I should clarify, though; you must understand: there is no pleasure here, in this town at the edge of civilization, in this dark corner of the world. There is only moisture, and misery. Rather than cry, I must laugh. That is my insanity, my disease, my affliction, my illness, my impurity, and, at the same time, it is my treatment, my cure, my salvation. I must laugh. My friends at my flank, their fur wet and muddy, Rainbow Dash clutching her nostrils shut, Applejack searching in disbelief for ponies, Pinkie Pie quiet and staring at the ground, Rarity near tears, Fluttershy whimpering and gasping, and I confused and lost, I feel my heart beat, baby sister to the silently quaking earth. I hear it in the night.

We think we hear whispers in the mist, and trot towards it. To our great surprise, we see the first pony in this town, a stallion. And, indeed, he appears equally surprised, if not frightened, at our own presence. Nopony wants to go to talk to him for about a minute, until Rainbow Dash volunteers her ever-courageous self. As she talks to him, I recall his appearance, and how it set me at unease. He was gaunt, dressed in a fisherman's raincoat, similar to the ones Bombarda had sold me and the girls. While it made sense for us to wear it, it didn't for him; he was under cover, in his house, staring out of a window at us, as if something had drawn him to the window at that moment to look outside. Rainbow Dash made her way to the window.

"Hello, sir!" said Rainbow Dash. "We're, uh, passing by and we were just wondering where we were. We're kind of lost..."

The stallion cut her off. "Geroff me porch, foal," he hissed.

Rainbow Dash froze, and I saw why: the stallion was brandishing a dull harpoon, and his eyes were not eyes but great torches of hate and anger.

We backed away, quietly, and continued on our way.

To our surprise, and, again, the surprise of the Seagift pony, we ran into another one, this one another, older stallion walking down one of the muddy alleys in between the wooden buildings. We averted our eyes as Rainbow Dash, again, soldiered on with a question.

"Excuse me, sir," began Rainbow Dash, with more caution and finesse, with slow gestures and movements. "We're travelers, and we were wondering whether you knew where we could stay for the night. A hotel, maybe?"

The stallion seemed breathless, confused, as though he couldn't believe his eyes that we were there. Very swiftly, though, his behaviour towards us changed. I felt it coming. His eyes furrowed; his expression hardened. I looked at the stallion, and I felt my fur shift, like grass whipped by the wind. Rainbow Dash didn't seem to see it. This stallion was... Changed.

"What are you doing here, tourist? You are not welcome. Get away from me!" Whilst his accent was clear and clean, his tone was icy and hostile. Rainbow Dash was crestfallen, at first, but this was brief.

"Hey, what's your problem, buddy?!" she yelled.

But the stallion paid her no mind as he trotted off into the mist once again.

We all heard Pinkie Pie giggle. Applejack caught the bug, but nopony else was in the mood. Especially Rainbow Dash.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Pinkie, is me getting treated like trash funny to you?" she said, poison in her tone as well. "How's about YOU go and talk to these jerks?"

Pinkie was visibly shocked by RD's harshness, and looked sad. "... I'm sorry, Rainbow. I didn't mean to..."

"Ah... I... It's fine. Just... Sorry. This town... This town..." began RD, stuttering.

"Yes. I think everypony should just... Calm down," I said.

"Twi... Look at me! I'm FILTHY. HELP ME, PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE." Rarity was now bawling.

"Snap out of it, Rare!" said AJ. "Pull yerself together, girl! It's just a little grime! How many times ya plan on loosin' yer marbles tahday?"

"Now that the storm's cleared up... Shouldn't Rainbow go up and see where the hotel is?" said Fluttershy.

"Oh, darn it! I completely forgot again!" exclaimed RD.

With a flurry, Rainbow Dash threw her raincoat to the air, her ascension whipping air in our eyes. She rose to a height where she was above all the other buildings. Hoof over her brow, she scanned the horizon.

"I SEE SOMETHING! TO THE WEST!" she roared, and we heard faintly.

Fluttershy also flew up into the air, but only half-way. I assume now as I assumed then that she did so so that she did not have to scream as loudly as Rainbow Dash in order for her to hear her, or us.

"How far away is it, Rainbow?" yelled Fluttershy, her voice reverberating against the panelled wood of the eerily empty, quiet town.

"NOT FAR!" roared RD back.

"We should get going," I said. "I don't think it would be wise to spend any time outside at night."

We made gestures of further moving into the town, to the West, following the setting sun. We were shocked to hear a voice calling out from the great coffins, echoing, like Fluttershy's own voice; a wiry, whiny harpsichord of a voice, a flute with one acoustic hole, a cat with laryngitis.

"OI! OO'S MAKIN' ALL THA' RACKET? I'S TRYIN' TO SLEEP OU' 'ERE!"

It was a screaming mare, approaching in our direction, growing louder, like a marching band easing it's way down the road. She turned the corner, and we were horrified. She was bruised and dainty. Her eyes were big and bulbous, bulging like balloons fit to burst; one would think you were seeing her face through the glass of a fishbowl. She was skinny; skinny enough to see her ribs and her skull. And she was deathly pale. Her look of utter disrepair was completed with a dirty bonnet and circling flies. The only thing missing, in my opinion, was a visible miasma to warn us of her horrible smell. She became quite panicked and frightful, though this also quickly mutated into outrage and hate.

"What're ripe brood mares doin' in these 'ere parts? Ye best git tae trottin' yer flanks otherwheres or else ye'll get thrown inna ditch 'ere the stallions are done with ye," the old mare said. A cold chill ran up my spine, and I rather felt it in everyone else's.

"Oh, look, another one," said Rainbow Dash, back from the heights.

"Whaddya MEAN OTHER ONE?" roared the old mare. "I'LL KILL YE!"

"Ah, go bother someone else," said RD.

With a great, gale-force whip, Rainbow kicked mist at the old mare, causing the old mare to screech and curse at us as she was soaked in ice-cold water materialized from nowhere.

"WITCHCRAFT! WITCHCRAFT!" she screeched, all the way home, well out of earshot.

"If you ask me, I think we've met enough of the locals," said RD, clopping her hooves together, job well done.

"Uh... Right. Well, you saw the hotel, so maybe you wanna lead us?" I said.

"Sure, why not?" she said, taking the lead.

Whilst she beat a path to the hotel's door, a little more afraid than RD was, me and the other girls trailed behind her.

"I'm so dirty..." I heard Rarity mumbling. "Dirty... Dirty... Dirty..."

"I tell ya what, Twi... This place gives me da willies," said Applejack, shakily.

"No kidding! And the people are really mean," said Pinkie Pie.

"And... Scary," whimpered Fluttershy.

"They're old," said RD. "Old, grumpy, stupid, slow. Seems to be a thing around here, dontchathink, Twi?"

"I think we should just get to the hotel and rest." I said, avoiding saying anything when I wasn't sure there was anybody listening. "We've been trotting all day and the sun's going down... I get the feeling ponies around here aren't too keen on lighting the streets..."

At the thought, I looked up and down the street we were on: there were no street lights, and I got the feeling there wouldn't be anyone around to light them and keep them lit anyway.

"I'm seriously doubting they're residents, either," said RD. "They look more like squatters to me."

"What kinda cooky critter would wanna live in this creep carnival?" said Applejack.

"Not a matter of wanting to, AJ. Having to. Although... You'd think there would be more hospitable places than this place. I'd rather live in the forest than here," said RD.

"Girls..." I heard someone say. I was still trotting behind RD. I wanted to speak, but AJ beat me to it.

"It ain't just that, RD. This place is more rickety an' unstable than a barn house in a sand storm! Forget not gettin' sick from the rain; what about all the mold and the crumblin' wood? You're more likely to hurt yerself than settle in."

"Girls..." Someone spoke up again, very lightly. But AJ and RD were still talking, loudly.

"Never said squatters were smart, AJ. By the look of them old farts we just ran into, I'm guessing they were less than smart."

"Girls." I finally recognized who it was, and turned around to face the direction. It was Fluttershy, barely speaking above a whisper, the only reason I noticed her this time was because she finally spoke to an audible volume, which was still miniscule in decibel compared to AJ and RD.

"You need something, Flutter... Fluttershy," I said.

I saw the look on her face. It was horror. Pure horror. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, and I could almost hear her hyperventilating. She was looking up, to the side, to where there was nothing but boards and mold.

"Fluttershy... What is it?" I said, loudly and clearly, as I stopped dead in my tracks. AJ and RD stopped yacking, and also seemed to stop.

Fluttershy only continued to stare, as if she hadn't heard me. As if, whatever she had seen, had her under a spell or so terrified that she feared death if she looked away.

I spoke again. I could feel a chill crawl up my shoulder again. I wonder now whether it was realization or the freezing moisture of the ocean. Calling to me. Talking to me.

"They're... They're watching."

My heart sank into my right hoof. Or was it my left?

I was afraid to look up. But fear is a silly thing, isn't it? I knew it. I felt it. I felt them inside of me. I felt their eyes touching me everywhere. Their eyes were there. And so I didn't look up. The girls did, and they were silent. I wanted to run, but my legs were paralyzed. And it would have made me look stupid.

I saw them at the edge of my vision. Their eyes seemed to glow like stars in the middle of the day, in the shadows of Seagift. The townspeople had gone to their windows, most likely hearing all of the racket we'd made getting into the town in the first place. They were in the windows. Looking. They were on their roofs. Staring. They were coming out onto their porches. Glaring. Their glances burned our skin as the sun was doing, aided by our wet bodies. They were all looking at us. Hundreds of them. If not a thousand of them. They were staring at us. I could see their eyes in my mind. White. Squamous. Slitted. Damning. Judging.

It was the damned racket they made I thought.

"Don't," I hissed at Fluttershy. "Don't look at them. Look at the floor, keep going. Keep moving. Move it." I pushed her flank with my head, roughly.

I was angry at her revelation. Furious.

I wanted to hurt her. The more she whimpered and shook, the more I wanted to knock her against the wall. And she would squeal. And I would stomp on her legs until they were dust.

"Twilight, this way." The voice was to my left.

"We made it. It's the hotel," said someone.

Author's Note:

College is the monster under MY bed.