Chapter 1: Dexter Dances
Chapter 1: Dexter Dances
We, as ponies, are social creatures. It’s a trait many creatures share. Talking together. Eating together. We’re evolved to enjoy one another’s company. Ponies that lived in harmony with others survived and lived on. And yet, beyond that simple instinct, there lies something else. A sense that the bonds we form mean more. At least, that’s what I’m told. I’d have more luck counting every star in the sky than I would of comprehending love and affection for a pony.
As a young buck I was often forced to endure the trials of romance. Foster said that it was important for me to learn. He was right, but that didn’t make it any less of a chore. One of my first dates was with a unicorn called Stringy. The cyan blue unicorn had asked me to the ‘Bucking Ball’. Hardly a ball really. Just a few disco lights in the school hall, a table with a few stacks of plastic cups next to a punch bowl. Initially I turned her down. Why would I want to go? And why with her? But when I told Foster about it, he insisted I chase her down and apologise. That was fun. I especially liked the part when she burst into tears and I couldn’t understand a damn word she was saying. Eventually I was able to patch things up, and I was set to meet her that night.
Foster was adjusting my bowtie, and diligently checking my mane for knots and tangles. I felt stupid. All this trouble just to impress some filly. We hardly even knew each other. Then again, if she knew the first thing about me I doubt she’d even want to be near me, let alone ask me to a dance.
Foster hoofed me a bunch of flowers. “You ready?”
“No!” I answered truthfully.
“Come on now Dex.”
“I can’t stand social gatherings” I whined, discarding the flowers to the floor. “Trying to act naturally. Being surrounded by that many ponies. Question my every move I make” I hung my head “It’s exhausting.”
“That’s why you need to start learning now” he asserted, placing the bouquet back in my hoof. “Buck up. You’ll be fine. Just smile, and try to be nice. Act like you enjoy her company.”
“But how? Talking to her is just frustrating. She’s so indirect, and I can never work out what’s going on in her head.”
“Welcome to the world of dating Dexter” my dear father chuckled. I didn’t appreciate how lightly he was taking this. Seeing my disgruntled reaction, he added “Look, it doesn’t matter if you mess up and things get awkward. It’s perfectly normal for a young colt to be nervous on his first date. But remember, she’s just as eager to gain your approval too, so don’t just give up right off the bat if you say or do something wrong. Learn from it, and try to do better.”
I took a few seconds to collect my thoughts. This was all a very hard pill to swallow, but my father was right. I needed to do this. “OK… I’ll try as hard as I can.”
Foster swung a hoof around me, nearly messing up my mane he had so thoroughly attended to. “Good” he said, leading me out the door, “And who knows, maybe you’ll have some fun.”
*** *** ***
“I’m in Hell.”
“What?” came a barely audible voice. But I wasn’t listening.
They were all lies. There were no bottomless pits of fire or benevolent horde. There weren’t even any splayed open corpses hanging from chains to spruce the place up a bit. Hell, was just being sat in a dark room with disco lights swirling past your eyes, next to a pony you were morally obligated to talk to. And I had ‘nothing’ to say at all. It was like I had bought a nuclear reactor with no instruction manual, and all I could do was sweat as I guessed at button presses and waited for the whole thing to melt down and explode.
“Um, Dexter… are you OK?”
“What?... oh yeah… great...”
“…”
“… Do you… want some more punch?”
“…no thanks. I’ve got plenty from the last three times you went to get me some.”
Damn it. Think Dexter, think! I looked around. All the other couples were either dancing, or talking and making each other laugh. I couldn’t dance, so I had to start talking. But about what? Nothing was springing to mind. I wasn’t the best conversationalist at the best of times, and this damn music wasn’t… wait. “So, what do you think to this music?”
“It’s OK I guess” she answered eagerly. She was starting to move more. Had I struck a gold mine? “I’m not really into this techno stuff though.”
There was a pause. I could feel another silence coming on. “… um, no?”
“No, I’m… I actually kind of like the classical stuff” this was good, keep going “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like modern stuff too, but I was dragged to this string quartet concert once and it really struck a chord with me and… oh…hehehe.”
What? Laughing? I tried to join in. Thank goodness the music was so loud, because I doubt my laughter actually sound remotely gleeful. But she was talking. A lot. This made things so much easier. All I have to do now is listen. Or, not even that. Just smile and nod. Smile and-
“and so that’s how I got my nickname. So? Dexy. What kind of music do you like?”
...Hayseeds. It was my turn now. I cycled through the recesses of my mind. I didn’t hate music, but I wasn’t very knowledgeable about it. Should I just say that? Or would that just lead to more awkward silence? But if I didn’t say something soon then-
The music stopped. The DJ got on mike, “And here’s one from that pop/rock sensation sweeping Equestria, Hay Ocean!” A song started to play.
“Well… what are the odds? I love Hay Ocean” I proclaimed, bearing a perhaps ‘too’ teethy smile.
“Really?”
“Yes…” Keep. Talking. “I, love them… I’ve heard all of their albums.”
Stringy looked confused. “But, they only have one?”
I grit my teeth. “Yes… I’ve just… listened to it so many times it feels like there’s been more…”
“I see. And what’s your favourite song?”
“…This one?..”
“Oh…”
“…”
“…”
No!
“…”
Not! Again!
Stringy heartily guzzled down one of her cups of punch. I sprung to my hooves, much to my acquaintance’s shock.
“In fact… I love this song so much, that… I have, to just… shake my haunches right now” I grabbed her by the fore-hooves “Come on!”
We were up on the dance floor fast. She was smiling, but even I could tell it was a nervous one. Still, she was starting to dance. Now all I had to do was figure it out myself. It couldn’t be harder than talking right? It was just moving… so… why wasn’t I just moving? I started to bob. Up and down. Up and down. And I continued to bob for the duration of the song.
I wasn’t sure what was more gruelling. The deathly silence from before or this semi-rhythmic progression of height shifts. My, ‘moves’, were pathetic enough that I could practically see a mild case of depression creep over my dance partner.
Then, inspiration struck. Moves? Moves! I might not be able to dance, but I was learning martial arts. And that was kind of like dancing right? I lifted myself to hind legs and struck a defensive stance. I then proceeded to punch the air.
Punch.
Kick.
Strike.
“Um Dexter?..”
Yes this was working. I just had to keep going. I continued to vigorously strike and kick the air in front of me.
Punch.
Swipe.
Uppercut.
Kick.
Swing.
Spear.
Kick.
Swipe. Pun-
I felt a thud. I had made contact with something. Or someone. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Stringy was in front of me. And her muzzle. It was all… Red.
Crimson rivers ran from her nostrils to her mouth.
It shimmered and shone in the gentle glow of disco lights.
This was the first time I had ever made another pony bleed.
And it was… just…
~Glorious.~
A large smile crawled its way onto our face.
~The colour. The consistency. The oh so many wonders of blood.~
A loud record scratch broke my trance. Refocusing, I could see tears streaming down Stringy’s face. She whimpered meekly, and galloped as fast as she could to the exit. It was at this point I also noticed that the music had stopped, and everyone else in the room was looking at me.
I left too.
Well, Foster was right. This had certainly been a learning experience.
Today I learned that you should never tell a lie you can’t follow up. Keep it simple, and as truthful as possible, or it may just come back to bite you in the worst way possible.
Also.
DEXTER. DOESN’T. DANCE.
*** *** ***
Morning was settling in and more ponies were starting to fill the streets. I was about to pick another pony to approach, when a vivid magenta mare caught my attention. She had tripped on a rock and planted face first into the dirt, leaving her dazed and bewildered, and the contents of her grocery bags spilling out across the floor. Well, I knew an ice-breaker when I saw one. And hopefully this pony wasn’t as airborne as the last.
“Excuse me miss” I called over to her as she rampantly scrambled to recompose herself “You look like you could use some help.”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it” she assured me, still sporting an unrelentingly cheerful smile “I just had a little tumble.”
Unbuckling myself, I trotted over to her, knelt down and started to pick things up. “You sure that was a little tumble? I can almost see the imprint of your face in the ground.” She let out a coy giggle. “Why on earth were you carrying so much in the first place anyway?”
The mare refilled one of her grocery bags before bashfully straightening her ruffled pink mane, “I was just trying to get all my errands done in one go I suppose. I was low on food, but I’ve got a school project planned for my little... I’m sorry, we haven’t even been introduced.”
“Oh... of course” I said extending out a hoof. “Dexter.”
“Cheerilee” she replied, returning my shake. “So, what brings you to Ponyville?”
A murderous darkness inside my head guided me here with the sole purpose of hunting down another monster like me, strapping them to a table, and cutting them up into pieces...
“Just passing through” I shrugged. “I was actually hoping you could give me some directions. I’m looking for somewhere to stay.”
“Oh, well, I know just the place. A cosy bed and breakfast just a few streets away. It’s actually on my way. I’d be happy to show you there.”
“Well, if you insist. But you’ll have to let me take those bags for you. I wouldn’t want to see a lovely filly like you land flat on your face again.”
“Making more face imprints in the ground” she laughed.
“Elegant as the imprints may be” I added. Cheerilee let out a burst of giggles and flirtatiously waved a hoof at me. The mare was easily flattered. Or maybe I really was just that charming. In either case, I had certainly come a long way from punching ponies in the face.
I strapped myself into my cart and gestured down the street. “Lead the way.”
*** *** ***
The cheerful filly strode forward, just a few hoofs ahead of me.
“So Dexter, where are you from?”
Oh goodie. Question time. Just remember the rule of thumb. Keep it simple. “Everywhere really. I’m always travelling. Can’t stay still really.”
“Is that so? Are you a performer of sorts?”
“Yes. You should come see my show some time. There’s this great part where I juggle a pack of flaming lions” I chortled.
“Juggling Lions? Really?.” Cheerilee grinned. “ Wouldn’t their manes tickle your muzzle? You’d sneeze and drop them all over the place.”
“Years of practice, and a muzzle of steel. The trickiest part was supplying the lions. I had to buy them in bulk y’know.”
We both shared a short laugh, before silence eventually set in. The magenta mare turned her head and shot me a gentle smirk, as if to say ‘but seriously’.
“I’m a jack of all trades if I’m being entirely honest. I’ve never been able to stay in one place, or hold onto a single job for too long. Still looking for that special calling I guess.”
“Then how do you explain that?” Cheerilee asked pointing a hoof directly at my flank.
“Oh” I said, “so you noticed. I work out.”
She smiled widely and face-hoofed, shaking her head from side. “You know what I mean,” she laughed “The medical syringe. With a cutie mark like that, I’d have expected you to be a doctor of some kind.”
“That’s a little misleading. For a while I was training to be a doctor, but, I never quite followed through with it. And I guess no one told my flank.”
“That’s too bad” my magenta mare sighed. “What exactly made you stop?” I whinnied. The filly was so friendly, and she certainly didn’t mind getting personal. “If you don’t mind me asking” she added.
“To be honest, I don’t think it was ever my true calling” I spoke, slowly and softly. “It’s just… my father was a doctor and, he died when I was quite young. He was a good pony. Always trying to help anypony in need. But after he was gone… I thought becoming a doctor could help me stay close to him. Maybe it could help make me a better pony like he was.”
That wasn’t a lie. Foster was gone, and with him, my moral tether. I was a beast that he tried to make a pony. And all he could manage to do was break even, and make me a tidy monster. I strived to be more, but, it was a frivolous pursuit. I am what I am. And studying pony anatomy and injury was perhaps the stupidest way to try and remedy that ailment.
“I didn’t mean to pry.” I refocused and saw that Cheerilee now had a very grim look on her face. “I… I’m sorry if I brought up a touchy subject.
Well done Dexter. Looks like you’re still a connoisseur of bestowing depression upon happy fillies. You have actually made a pony called ‘Cheerilee’ sad. “It’s fine, really” I reassured her. “Tell me what it is exactly you do. Are you a flower shop owner or something?”
~Because I really love those~
“I’m actually a school teacher.” I raised an eyebrow, failing to see the connection. “It’s a metaphor. They represents the my desire to see my students grow and blossom” she smiled. “I suppose a travelling man like you wouldn’t really be up for a job working with foals.”
“You’d be surprised” I replied sincerely “I love kids. So full of hope and potential.” So innocent and pure… unsullied by the darkness of the world… something I never had. “And I bet they’re lucky to have such a caring mare as their teacher.”
Cheerilee beamed. But that smile hastily transformed into the grim looks from earlier. “I try my hardest, but… things have been difficult recently. With all the… well…”
“What?” I asked.
“Oh… never mind… Ah, here we are” she said pointing a hoof.
The Bed and Breakfast was a modest setup. A small patio with about half-a-dozen tables, in front of a serving window and entrance to the check-in desk. Around the side, a staircase led up the second floor. A balcony stretched across both sides of the upper section. The building had about 6 rooms in total, 3 along each side. Hopefully I could get a room along the side facing the alleyway. If I ever needed to sneak in or out, the fire exit would make it extremely convenient for me to... wait... what was I thinking? It’s not like I was actually staying here for long...
“Um, Dexter” Cheerilee called “If you could just pass my bags please.”
I shook my head and recomposed myself. “Sorry” I said, trotting over to my wagon and pulling out her groceries with my teeth. I planted them in front of her, and went back to get her saddlebags. I couldn’t help but notice how stuffed they were. Huge lumps stuck out of them for every angle. It actually felt strangely similar to… no. That was absurd.
“He-arh”
“Thank you Dexter” she said, taking her bags from my muzzle, and throwing them over her haunches. “It was lovely meeting you. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“I won’t be staying for long” I sighed shaking my head “but thank you Cheerilee.”
We exchanged hoof waves, and I watched her trot away, until she disappeared around the corner.
I turned and set my gaze on the cozy-looking Inn. The routine. Just stick to the routine.
I won’t be staying for long…
*** *** ***
I sat at the café table, sipping at my coffee and reading the paper, skimming the pages. The front page had Economic Expansion right across the top, featuring articles on the growing businesses, from construction work, to the fashion industry. Little Ponyville was on the threshold of becoming quite the boomtown.
The waitress brought me my meal. I didn’t look, up trying to ignore the incessant rattling of the dinner tray.
“Thank you” I whinnied half-heartedly, turning the page.
Have you seen any of these ponies? An entire page of reported disappearances, with no noticeable connection. Old and young. Bucks and mares. It appears my little dark companion was right. This town might look harmless, but it held some secrets. In that respect, it’s not dissimilar to me.
The waitress brought someone else their coffee, the rattling becoming increasingly more persistent. I grit my teeth and continued reading, trying my best to stifle my shaking hoof.
Muleami Metro investigate Baltimare Bludgeoning. The greatest detective agency in all of Equestria. So brilliant they were often out-sourced to other cities all over the land to assist in the most explicit of cases. Their success rate, 96%. A serial killer’s worst nightmare. Or greatest thrill if you’re into that kind of thing.
Rattle. Rattle. Rattle.
I slammed down my paper. “For Cekestia’s sake!”
The waitress immediately shot me a glance. In an instance, my anger petered out completely, and was replaced by a somewhat dumbfounded confusion. I had assumed from her chronic shaking that the mare had been well into her twilight years. But the waitress filly looked young. She donned a fresh and full sunshine coat, and a curly locked salmon mane to boot. But her face looked like it had been trampled beneath a herd of stampeding buffalo. Charcoal bags hung low from her eyes and she just couldn’t seem to stay in one spot. Jittering and shaking, barley managing to keep the contents of the tray steady. She looked just so very… ill.
It was at this point I noticed the waitress wasn’t the only one that had noticed my outburst, with half the tables now aiming their sights right at me.
“… for, Celestia’s sake… why can’t the Fillydelphia Diamond Dogs keep it together. This is their 3rd loss this season...” Everyone continued about their business. I slumped back into my chair and hid behind my paper, wondering how that pitiful excuse for a redirect actually passed the social fluidity exam.
*** *** ***
“Well howdy there. Nightingale’s the name. Welcome to Snoozy Chewzy. Finest bed and breakfast in all of Ponyville. Y’lookin to shack up?”
I probably should have made some small talk, but I was much too distracted and tired to converse with such an energetically friendly pony.
“Just, one night please.”
“That’ll 42 bits. If you could just sign here.”
Signing in was always fun. I get to pick a new name each time. The sensible thing to do is to choose something normal, but, since I didn’t plan on staying long, I figured anything would do. Quill between my teeth I began to scribble.
“There we go. Welcome to our establishment Mister… Bob..?” she raised a suspecting eye brow at me, then added a grin. She knew it was fake, but she found it… endearing? “Enjoy your stay. You can park your cart in the alleyway” she proclaimed, adding a hearty cough.
Trotting up the stairs, I just couldn’t seem to shake the waitress from my mind. What was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be having these thoughts and urges so soon. Perhaps staying here was a mistake, but it was a little too late to be having second thoughts now.
Room number 4. I lunged my key into the door and twisted it, tearing the door open, and warm noon day light spilled into way into the room. Practically the size of my last apartment, but considerably less empty. Rugs, wardrobes and draws. Back in Manehattan I owned a single solitary mattress that lay in the centre of my floor. Simple and tidy. I liked it. This room was… homely.
I dumped my chest into the drawer bellow it, slung my bags under the bed and threw myself onto the frilly pink mattress. Lying on my back, I gazed at the perfectly white ceiling, and tried to drift. But my little friend wouldn’t seem to stop pestering me.
A young waitress, with a shaky tray. So what? She was probably new, and was just having a nervous first day.
Nothing she couldn’t solve with a good… night’s… sleep…
*** *** ***
Ponies.
Ponies all around me.
The void is white.
They’re white.
Almost too hard to see.
But I need to see them. I need to…
I lunge at one, and try to grab it, but as soon as I touch it, I tear it open, and it falls. From its gash pours a river of red petals. The others stop and stare in shock with their smooth faceless heads. They look at the dead pony, then at me. The pitch black pony. They fear me, and flee. I pursue them; forelegs spread wide open, screaming at the top off my lungs.
I grab another. Down. Reach for another. Down.
Now they’re not running. They’ve turned on me, and there are more of them. A vast sea of them swarm me from all directions. And as they grab me, I start to bleed jet black petals. As more of them grab me, brush against me, look at me, I grow weaker. But somewhere, among the wall of white, I catch a glimpse of something. Just a little speck behind the flailing hoofs and tails… I see…
Another. Another black pony.
Like me.
But it’s too late. I fade before I can even cry out. And all of me spills onto the floor…
*** *** ***
Awake.
And… outside apparently. Upright even, and leaning forward on the front balcony overlooking the street.
This… was new. I started to wonder what this place was doing to me, but my line thought came to a halt when I caught glimpse of some-pony who looked to be taking an evening stroll. And who else but my vibrating friend from earlier. She happened to live right across the road from the Inn. And right now, she wasn’t inside her house.
~Go~
It didn’t take long for me to realize this was a bad idea, as I was unprepared, on unfamiliar terrain, and I had taken up sleep walking so I was clearly not in a very sound mental state, but apparently it took even less time for me to slither down the stairs, across the street, and up to the front door. Just a simple twist. Click. And open.
I stood there in the doorway, considering my options. I probably should have left, but whatever force, dark passenger or otherwise that had overcome me, would not permit me to leave.
The living room was messy. Really messy. Both the sofa and chair were filthy with black muck. Dirt and hoof prints riddled the carpet, and there was a bowl of old food with flies buzzing around it on a small dining table along with a wrench and a few discarded cans of germ spray and air freshener. That probably explained why the house smelt like a cross between a dead body and a bouquet of roses.
I turned to the kitchen. Somehow it was worse. There was old rotting food all along the counter, and the floor boarding gave a tortured creak with every hoof I planted. And I had dealt with dead bodies, but I wouldn’t touch the scummy rug in the centre with my back leg. I went around it.
And that’s when I saw it. The back door hidden in the shadows. I had no time to waste. Whatever was behind there I had to find it fast. She could be back any second. Reaching out, I grabbed it by the door knob and threw it wide open. It was a broom closet. And it was the cleanest room in the house.
So there was nothing sinister about this filly. She was just an immeasurable slob. I shut the door and turned to make my way out. I was halfway through the kitchen, feeling foolish and somewhat disappointed, but without thinking I had trodden right on the scummy rug, and I just froze up. Not out of disgust, although I was certainly feeling that from the sheer texture of the unsanitary carpentry beneath my hoof.
But it was what I heard that caught my attention. Not a creak. But a thud…
I pulled the rug from the floor, and set my sights on the wooden door beneath me. I grabbed the handle and a chill went down my spine. Slowly, I pulled the door open, and in doing so, released a gust of frosty air that burst right out at me, tickling my face.
A pony, was staring at me. At least, a pony’s head was. It just stared right off into space with its frosty eyes. Behind it were stacks of hooves and haunches. Barrels and organs. I should have galloped off at that moment. But in all honesty, I was enjoying it too much. The frozen flesh glistened like diamond stars against a night sky. The limbs were hacked off jaggedly, not nice clean cuts like mine, but still. How cathartic it was to just take them in. The last thing I felt before I passed out, was immense elation, another shiver down my spine and what I what I can only assume was a wrench slamming against the back of my head.
*** *** ***
I tried to open my eyes. They flittered open and shut as the surrounding light pierced my skull and the blurry world that surrounded me gradually came into focus. As my other senses came out of remission, it became apparent to me that I had been bound. My eyes sharpened, and I could see I was on the living room floor, with both of my fore-hooves shackled together by a pair of cuffs connecting to the ground by a lengthy chain. Then I saw ‘her’. Ahead of me. Perched on the edge a chair. The sunshine coated filly from earlier, staring me down through the fringe of her hair, with a gleamingly sharp kitchen knife in the clasp of her hoof.
She was static. Frozen so perfectly still I could have sworn she was a mere mannequin. The illusion was only broken as the most insidious of grins crawled it’s way around her jaw, followed by a contemplative rolling of her tongue. Her eyes, narrow and bleeding with anticipation, remained fixated on me, as she slowly lowered herself from the chair and began approaching me. The giddy filly stabbed the floor right in front of my head, crossed her arms and leant forward on the hilt, looming over me like an owl waiting to swoop down over a field mouse.
It was all too clear to me that I was going to have to be extremely careful if I wanted to get out of here in one piece. I may not have a great sense of peril, but it didn’t take a genius to tell me I was neck deep in it.
“Funny” the waitress pondered aloud “usually by this point there’s a little more panicking.” She lowered herself closer to me, “What’s wrong? Too scared to scream?”
~She wants to think she’s in control. That she has power over you~
~Show her she doesn’t~
“You want me to beg?” She flinched, somewhat taken aback. “For me to scream and plead, and say I’ll give you anything you want if you let me go?... sorry but I’m not in the mood.” She looked down on me, confused and frustrated. Her grin had flopped into a gritted frown. Perfect.
“You’re not really in a position to making jokes like that!” she spat, pressing her knife up against my cheek.
~She wants you to cower. As long as you don’t, she won’t make a single cut~
“You think that’s threatening? I’ve seen foals playing dress up that were more intimidating than you. Hell, get that head out of the freezer and prop it up next to me. At least the some of the frost might make me shiver a little.”
The peach haired pony scrunched up her muzzle and stood her full height, scowling down at me.
I smiled back at her, and she scowled even harder. This was almost too easy. Playing her was “Wait…”
I blinked.
She tilted her head gently to the side, and examined me carefully. Something in her head seemed to click, and he blood thirsty beam hastily returned. “You were at the café, weren’t you?” I tried to keep a fixed gaze, but I couldn’t hold back and eye twitch. Her smile grew even wider. “You knew didn’t you. You knew about me… and you just walked in here?” she threw her head back released a floodgate of cackles. “I’ve had to do some pretty sneaky things to get people here, but none of them have been dumb enough to just come in on their own.” She knelt down, and giggled relentlessly. “You’re my little lemming pony.”
I grit my teeth and supressed a growl.
“But how did you know? I may get the shakes now and again, but no one has ever suspected me before.” She gave me another look over. In an instance she sprung back up, laughing even harder “You. You’re like me aren’t you.”
“What?! No!”
“Don’t lie. I can see it in your face. You want to rip me open don’t you.”
I was desperate now. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Oh really… tell me… what sport do the Fillydelphia Diamond Dogs even play?”
“…”
“Don’t know… oh well, it was a nice try. For a moronic lemming like you at least.”
I thrust myself at her, but my chains stopped me as I was inches short of reaching her, and I hit the floor hard.
~KILL HER~
The filly gave a victorious chortle.
~Make her regret taunting you~
“You said you weren’t in the mood for screaming” she sneered raising her knife up above her head “lets see if we can change that.” My chest set aflame as the blade entered my side, and I let out a tortured grunt. “Don’t worry, I won’t hit anything important” she spoke smoothly, bringing her face up to mine. “I want you alive after all. It’s so much more fun to peal the flesh from your bones when it’s nice, and, fresh!”
~CUT HER UP!!!~
I thrust the front of my face into her muzzle. She flew back and stumbled, blood gushing from her nostrils. She dabbed her face with one hoof and looked at her own blood, with enraged contempt. In a heartbeat she refocused on me, and screamed as she lunged at me with the knife once more. But I was too quick for her. I moved to one side and stretched out my. In an instance, she tumbled right over them, and hurtled forward onto the floor. The murderous filly recovered quickly and spun around for a second strike, but I was ready. As she turned, I caught her in my shackles. Around her neck. Right between my hooves.
And I began to squeeze.
~Harder~
The filly gasped out in terror, clutching the chains around her throat with one hoof and randomly flailing a knife behind her with the other.
~Keep going. Rid the world of her consciousness!~
She had managed to knick me a couple of times in the side, but she was starting to lose her strength now.
~That’s it, just a little more~
“…please… stop…”
“… ~No~…”
We squeezed a little tighter… and within seconds… she was gone.
This wasn’t the end though. This whole incident had been messy. Spontaneous.
And we needed some closure.
*** *** ***
After scoping out the street for passers-by, I swiftly carried the body across to the Inn. I stumbled half way, succumbing to the burning pain of my gash. I had thrown on a winter saddle to help keep it shut, but the adrenaline in my blood must have been thinning out, because the burning was only getting more intense. But I pushed through the pain, and carried on to my cart. Pulling back a sheet, I tossed my corpse into the back and covered it back up.
I didn’t want to risk cutting up the body in my room. If I didn’t get caught going up the stairs, the fumbling in the night could attract attention. Instead I would have to do the deed out of town, and bury her out in the countryside. I’d need a lamp if I was going to work in the darkness. And I still had to get my tool chest. I briskly made my way up the steps and up to my door.
I threw it open and flicked on the light. Maybe if I hurried “SURPRISE!!!!” I could… “Hey there mister”… wait… what was… who are all these… “Oh look, he can’t even express himself he’s so surprised by his super-fantabulous-most-extravagangious-absolutey-fun-grandious welcome-to-Ponyville-Pinkie-PARTY!!!”
I… I didn’t…
“It’s nice to see you again. My name’s Pinkie Pie. What’s yours?” asked a confusing pink blur.
“I…Wahhh…?”
“Iwah… that’s a funny name.”
This. Was not. Good…
------
Author Notes: This took me longer to write than it should.
I’m gonna try and do the next one quicker.
Again, I’m new at writing, so feedback is appreciated.
Stats
Page generated in 0.019 seconds
Total duration
641 users online
1,366,311 hits today, 2,139,894 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Awwww shit.
It's been, what, 8 months?
Whatevs, still a good chapter.
so wait the waitress was the murder and cherllie wasernt i bet this is guna go somewhere cupcake wise am i right?
Thank you, I needed that. You write well, albeit a bit too rushed. Still, I can't wait to see where this is heading.
Dexter is best pony.
That is all.
721861
Thanks :)
When you say rushed,do you mean some parts are hastily written and don't read that well, or that I don't give certain elements or plot progressions enough attention.
And which bits in particular?
727878
The latter one. The fact that one of the first ponies Dexter bumps into happens to be a killer and that he finds it out in such a short time is a bit unrealistic. I understand that you wanted to put some action early on. You could have given her more noticeable characteristics that would have made Dexter's interest more justified.
Of course, this will be more dificult unless Dexter finds his way into the police or something. It seems in every story, the protagonist has something, either a convinient job or skill, that allows him/her to find killers (or even kill others) without being caught. If you wish, you can also NOT do this in order to give a completely different vibe to the story, even if it makes you relinquish longer mysteries or hunts.
I will be patiently waiting for the next update.
Shit just got real
you said that he studies HUMAN anatomy. shouldnt he study pony anatomy?
Oh, and by the way, if you need a prereader (and no offense, I think you do) I would be willing to preread for you, and tell you about any grammer and spelling errors you have.
741339
That sounds cool
And thx for the point out.
That was a real derp on my part.
741413If your interested in some help, feel free to e-mail me. ajmorris2012irc@gmail.com. Ever since graduation, I have been SOOOOOOOOOOOOO bored. I have nothing but free time, and I would love to help. And dont worry about derping a little bit, your only (puts on sunglasses) HUMAN!
YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.
Oh boy! I hope Cheerilee's the love intrest in this. I love Cheerilee!
So is this good... and WILL YOU EVER UPDATE IT?! WHERE DID YOU GO?