A Companion Amid The Silence
Drip… drip… drip…
Tulip Iris shuddered when the sound of water dripping into a puddle reached her ears. It was sharp and rhythmic, but also distant and fuzzy, echoing loudly in her mind as though heard through ears stuffed with cotton in a massive cavern.
Drip… drip… drip…
A lukewarm breeze drifted over her, causing Iris to stir. She groaned in discomfort as every motion firmly notified her of how stiff and sore she was, especially in her head. Her hoof drifted slightly over the cold, hard floor, earning a twitch of curious confusion. For a moment, she could not remember the events of the previous night.
Drip… drip… crunch…
Iris yelped and scurried into a standing position as her hoof rubbed against a cold, sharp substance. Glass. The glass of the shattered clinic window…
It all came back to her; the screams and panicked voices she heard from outside, her own desperate, fruitless search for help and answers, her attacker, who had strangely let her go, and the deafening silence with a background of rainfall to serve as white noise…
Iris stood frozen in place, tears welling up in her otherwise useless eyes as the dark realization dawned on her. Whatever happened last night was not a nightmare. It had actually happened. Iris took a step back, shaking her head and wanting nothing more than to hear her mother enter the room to tell her everything was okay.
Her rear leg collided with the wall, sending a loud ‘thud’ through the area. Iris winced and stood still for several moments, trying to determine if anypony had heard her.
Drip… drip… drip…
Nothing. Iris took a deep breath and felt around for the door with her forelegs, eager to get out of here and see if there was anypony to tell her what was going on. The door stood open, allowing her to slip out into the hallway, where the silence was even more profound.
It was a painfully slow effort. Iris, despite having been in this clinic multiple times in her life, particularly when she was younger, had never taken the time to memorize it’s layout. She only had the lobby and surrounding gift shop and check-in station figured out. As a result, Iris had to put a lot of her attention towards staying calm and listening for any clues that would tell her where she was.
She kept a hoof to the wall, making careful note of it every time she found a door. Each one she found was made of wood, much like the one that had led to her own room, which told her that she hadn’t gotten out of the patients area yet. She inched open each one and asked if anypony was inside. She never got an answer outside of the perpetual silence and one instance where she heard the flatlining of a heart monitor... She didn’t open that particular door.
Iris had all but given up hope when she found her ears perking up by reflex. She heard the faint, mechanical hum of one of the lobby’s old vending machines. Iris almost burst into a fit of giggles as she realized she had managed to get to the lobby. She sped up somewhat, eager to get out of this terrible silence and find somepony.
Her eagerness and increased pace did not agree with her still recovering rear leg. Iris let out a quiet gasp as pain blossomed once more along the fracture line. She stayed still for several moments, letting the pain get back down to more tolerable levels before, more slowly this time, making her way back out into the lobby.
“Please… let somepony be there.” She muttered to herself as she entered into the familiar air of the ponyville clinic lobby. Despite the familiar background sound and the temperature and smell in the air, Iris drew no comfort from it. There were no other ponies here, she could tell. She sighed and continued towards the exit.
* * * * * *
Spike looked with exhausted, bloodshot eyes at the Carousel Boutique. It’s front door stood open, one of the hinges loose, causing it to stand lopsided. Rarity hadn’t even bothered with the handle, simply powering through in her efforts to get Sweetie Belle to safety. It hadn’t worked… as far as Spike was aware, there had not been a single pony that had been able to escape, not even Twilight.
Ponyville was all but silent, now. Leftover moisture from last night’s rain would drip occasionally, giving a very subtle, rhythmic background sound every time it did. Even the birds were quiet… either that or they had simply fled. Either way the result was the same. With a sigh, Spike stepped toward the loosened door to the Boutique. Rarity wouldn’t be inside, but Opal might be.
“Hooo...?” Owlowiscious’ sorrowful, groan-like sound would have made spike jump in surprise, as he hadn’t been expecting it, but he had been through far too much over the last twelve hours to notice enough for that.
“We’re here to get Rarity’s pet cat, Opal.” Spike said tiredly as he stepped into the building, observing the state of the main room with his heart sinking even more than it had already. Several mannequins were knocked over, one of which had housed Rarity’s current big dress project; which now lay in shredded ruins on the floor.
“Opal? You in here?” Spike called out, looking around carefully. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the small feline anywhere in the main room. “Owlowiscious, lemme know if you see her, ‘kay?”
“Hoo.”
Spike nodded and glanced back over the room. There were plenty of spots where a small, fluffy white cat could tuck itself away and hide from anything. Spike lowered himself slightly and began to check under various items scattered around the boutique. “Opal? Here, kitty kitty kitty! It’s alright!” he called out in what he hoped would be a soothing tone of voice.
“HOO!” Owlowiscious suddenly let out a sound that reminded Spike of a cross between his normal hoot and the frantic squeals of a startled piglet.
“Wha-” Spike didn’t get a chance to finish his question as a blur of white fur shot out from under the desk he was about to search under and between his legs. It moved with enough speed and force to throw him terribly off balance. A startled yelp sprang from his lungs as he fell forward and collided nose-first with the floor, the impact punctuated by a sharp thunk. Opal’s aggressive hissing could be heard quite clearly, making the distressed cat’s message unmistakable.
Spike let out a low, irritated groan as he went to pick himself up. “Opal, it’s just me!” He snapped a bit harsher than intended, dusting himself off with his claws. Opal did not seem impressed or soothed by his words. She hissed again before yowling, long and loudly, her back bristling and her tail fur poofing up. Before Spike could try to calm her, Opal turned and sprinted out of the house and into the streets.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious hooted apologetically, to which Spike merely grimaced.
“It’s alright… If she won’t come with us, I’m sure she can take care of herself…” he muttered, looking around the house once more before slamming his eyes shut and slowly trudging his way out the door. “Come on. Let’s go find Winona…”
“Is somepony there?”
Spike instantly stopped when an unfamiliar female voice reached his ears. Quickly, he ducked back into the boutique and listened again. He could hear hoofsteps. Somepony had managed to evade capture? Based on the tempo of the steps, it sounded like a filly. He carefully peeked out of the boutique, scanning the street.
“Anypony? Please, I heard talking! I need help!” the filly called out, her eyes closed and her steps slow. Spike felt his heart fall into the pit of his stomach and his posture fell into one of despondency.
“She’s just a filly…” he whispered to himself before stepping out of the Boutique. “Wait here buddy, okay?” he said to Owlowiscious, who nodded and fluttered up to perch on the edge of the boutique’s roof. Spike nodded and turned back to the filly, who had paused, her ears swiveling on her head.
“Hello?”
“Hi…” Spike finally managed, approaching cautiously. “I’m Spike. Uh, who are you?”
The filly turned to face him as soon as he spoke, though her eyes remained screwed shut. “I’m Tulip Iris. What’s happening? Where is everypony? What was all of that shouting last night? Where are my parents?!” Iris began calmly enough, though her voice quickly became more and more distressed as, at last, she was able to speak to somepony other than herself.
“Woah, hey, easy,” Spike tried soothing her, putting his claws in front of himself in a calming motion. “Calm down, okay? I’ll tell you what I can, but we need to get you somewhere safe first. No telling if anypony who wasn’t so lucky is still lurking around.”
“Lucky…?” Iris replied worriedly, sniffling slightly and shifting uneasily on her hooves, trying to keep the pressure off of her left hind leg.
“Didn’t you see what happened?” Spike asked in confusion, before truly processing that this whole time she had had her eyes closed. “Wait… why are your eyes closed?”
Iris flinched and shrunk down so her belly was almost touching the dirt. “I… I can’t see.” she whispered, clenching her eyelids shut even more.
“Oh… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” Spike apologized softly, mentally slapping himself for his assumption.
“It’s okay...” was the only response Iris offered to Spike’s apology. For several seconds, she remained completely silent before slowly standing back up. “What happened?” she asked in a weak voice.
Spike sighed heavily, scratching the back of his head. “Frankly, I don’t know the half of it. Come on, there’s a bench over here and I think we could both use a rest.”
“Okay.” Iris agreed half heartedly before trotting up to follow Spike’s steps, listening intently and then joining him on the bench. A soft sigh left her as she finally got to take the weight off of her wounded leg.
“Alright… where to start…” Spike mumbled to himself, closing his eyes for a moment to think. “Last night, somepony came knocking on the doors to Twilight’s castle. We didn’t know who it was, and we were all kinda irked for being woken up at such an absurd hour. Starlight wound up getting to it first and, well…” he shuddered at the memory. “It was Twilight’s dad behind the door. Something was wrong. His posture, the way he was talking… the fact his first act upon the door opening was to tackle Starlight to the ground and look her in the eyes…”
Iris’ ears flicked to Spike curiously. “Looked her in the eyes?”
“Yeah. When he did… she screamed. She screamed something horrible. Then she went still and quiet and… oh, Sweet Celestia…” Spike brought his claws to his face and tried to hold back a sob as the memories began to resurface. “Twilight didn’t last long, either… when she pried her dad off of Starlight, they locked eyes and… whatever happened to Starlight happened to Twilight then, too.”
“What happened to them?” Iris asked, a slight tremble in her voice. It was clear that she didn’t really want to know.
“I don’t know for sure, but I do know that it changed them. They started carrying themselves just like Twilight’s dad was and started looking for other ponies. All of my efforts to get them to stop were met with complete indifference… Twilight through me to the side at one point,” Spike opened his eyes and shook his head. “A-anyway, I tried to get anypony I could to get away from them, but... so many ponies changed so fast. It looked like it only took eye contact to… do whatever happened to them.
“It didn’t take long at all. In less than an hour, all of Ponyville was changed… except for you and I, anyway,” Spike finished, slumping his shoulder as he finished recalling the night. “I just wish I knew what was going on…”
“Me, too…” Iris mumbled, curling up slightly into a ball and letting out a tiny, miserable whimper. “I just want my mom and dad back…”
Spike looked at her sympathetically before gently patting her on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything, though. There was nothing he could say to ease the sorrowful filly’s mind.
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Well um... not sure you made the best decision here. Depending on what you want to write, that is. If you're trying to write a story about a filly's despair as she perishes in a hostile environment through no fault of her own just when we thought she could have been saved, first, you need to watch Grave of the Fireflies, and then you can tell the subsequent therapist that you will need, "I can't believe I ever considered writing something like that!" Or... you... could write it and enjoy doing so, but that's just crazy talk. Seriously, if you're going this direction, you've done so successfully in the past, so it should come out fine. Go ahead and do it, and I can downvote this story and be on my way. But please, please please don't publish stories like this without the horror tag.
However, a less... "ripping your thumbnails off" painful story might be harder to write, given this chapter. This seems like the kind of story that would haunt you as you just can't bring yourself to update because you'd have to write about horrible things, forever sitting on the back-burner. If this is the case, please consider rewriting this chapter, after you watch this episode of Captain N: Game Master. In particular, not everyone all got hypnotized at once. That gave it a bit of a thrill, and let the vulnerable characters impart valuable aid to the one kid who had to save them. Additionally, there was hope that they could be saved: a way to break the trance early on, and a race to acquire it. Finally, the heroes held out until the very end, instead of being the first to fall.
Contrast with your story, where it's made clear their minds have been burned away forever, the heroes were conveniently eliminated early on in order to take them out of the picture, everypony was easily defeated without resistence, there are no survivors left to save, and all hope was lost before the story even started. I'm worried you made this thing a bit too much of a monster, so it might be hard to have the foal save the day in any convincing way.
Feel free to ignore this if my worries are unfounded, and you just want to write a story about a blind filly cruelly suffering, before dying of injury, exposure and sadness. I can't criticise your story, since it's not yet clear what kind of story it should be. This is just a warning, in case you're struggling with continuing or trying not to write depressing horror.
8296951?
Depressing and horror basically define my mind. I have no issues with writing that kind of thing as it basically defines me. I've already had a therapist, just so you know and while it didn't make my mind any less of a terrible place, it allowed me to learn how to function effectively with it.
What is your basis on claiming 'forever?' has it been explicitly stated in story or by me or are you just assuming?
She has Spike. Dude's saved the Crystal Empire. Twice. Plus, I have ideas for next chapter that should, if nothing else, start them in the direction of piecing together their next move.
I'm really happy to see that this story updated as I find its premise to be very interesting. Here's hoping the next update won't take as long.
8296964
The therapist thing was a joke. I was implying that "Grave of the Fireflies" is so depressing, it'd manufacture a mental illness in people on the spot! It does sound like your kind of movie though. I can't imagine you haven't seen it yet.
Well, you don't normally scream like that without some sort of massive mental trauma. Anyway it's fine if they're zombies forever if you're writing a horror story.
...I'll just be living in my bomb shelter for the next seven centuries or so.